Meant To Be (16 page)

"She looked scared as hell,” Jack commented, still watching the house.

"Trust me, she'll be fine."

Jack shot Garrett a look of contempt before returning his attention to the house. Garrett stared at his profile, convinced he knew the guy from somewhere, but damned if he could place him. “Do I know you?” he finally asked.

Jack didn't respond for almost a full minute. Then he met Garrett's gaze and said, “Check your guilty conscience. I'm sure you'll figure it out.” Before Garrett could find his tongue, Jack hopped in his car and took off.

Garrett memorized Jack's plates as he drove away.
Yep
, Garrett thought,
I've definitely entered the Twilight Zone.

Garrett just hung up from ordering Chinese food when the phone rang.

"The tags belong to a Jack Sutton,” Mike said. “Released from Green Bay Correctional about a week ago after serving seven years for murder. And if that doesn't jog your memory, you were a key witness to the case."

Garrett leaned back against the kitchen counter and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I remember. I found him unconscious next to one of my old partner's informants, Eddie Morales. Morales had been shot between the eyes, and Sutton was holding the murder weapon."

Garrett also remembered he'd thought the crime scene looked like a set-up, but he'd been a rookie, and frankly, scared to death of his ex-partner, Marty Driscoll. Garrett had seen and heard enough suspicious activity to know Officer Driscoll was a less than honorable cop. But he'd been well-respected by his peers, and the one time Garrett had voiced his opinion, Driscoll had quickly put him in his place. Two years later, he'd transferred out to New York City, and Garrett couldn't have been happier.

"Think he's out for revenge?” Mike asked.

"That'd be my guess. Both mine and Jessica's tires were slashed within twenty-four hours of each other. And Jack just happens to be there to offer her a ride home? No, he's definitely got an agenda.” Garrett refilled his coffee cup. “There's just one thing that bothers me. He seemed genuinely concerned for her safety. I think she may have told him something about those two morons who've taken over her house."

"But she just met him,” Mike pointed out. “Why would she confide in a complete stranger instead of you?"

Garrett carried his coffee to the table, sat down, and propped his feet on the chair across from him. “Let's just say it's complicated.” He blew out a weary breath. “Listen, thanks for your help. Last night as well."

"No problem. Give me a call if you need anything else."

Garrett disconnected the call and set the cordless on the table. As he sipped his coffee he thought back to Jack Sutton's trial. He'd been maybe twenty years old when he'd gone on trial for murder. Garrett recalled how scared he'd looked sitting at that table next to his incompetent public defender, and not one single family member in the courtroom to support him. He'd sworn he was innocent, had sworn he'd been set up. And though there'd been no way to prove it, Garrett had suspected the kid was right. Unfortunately he wasn't allowed to testify on his gut instinct, only the cold hard facts.

Now that kid was a grown man with a hate-on for Garrett the size of Texas. And he couldn't really blame him. It had been Garrett's testimony that had sealed Jack's fate.

It finally struck Garrett why Sutton's car looked familiar. It was the same one that almost mowed him down in front of the restaurant. Jack'd had seven years of vengeance driving him, only at the last second he hadn't been able to do it and had swerved. But why had he decided to go after Jessica?

Garrett's gut instinct told him Sutton wouldn't hurt her, but he'd learned the hard way his gut instinct was less than reliable. He'd seemed truly worried about her, though. So why the slashed tires?

Only one way to find out. Garrett needed to find out where Jack was staying and pay him a little visit. With grim determination, he redialed Mike's number.

Jessica's truck was delivered within the hour. She'd had to pay extra, but there was no help for it. She only had one vehicle, and it would've cost just as much to take a cab back and forth to work the next day, plus tip.

Lyle had ordered a pizza as soon as they'd entered the house. She waited until after the food had been delivered before locking herself in her bedroom and jumping in the shower. She knew Lyle was less likely to launch an assault on her if he had an extra large pepperoni and cheese pizza to keep him occupied. Plus, he and Wade were both a little buzzed after having drunk her special-occasion bottle of wine. Cripes, was nothing sacred?

As she stood under the steaming hot spray, she racked her brain thinking up ways to get Wade and Lyle out of her house—and soon. She couldn't even imagine what the neighbors must think of her. She'd traveled halfway across the country to escape the public hell her life had become. People pointing and staring, the pity in their eyes more than she could take. And now here she was, on the verge of becoming the talk of the neighborhood.

Jessica dressed in baby blue sweats and a T-shirt, pulled her hair up into a ponytail and didn't bother with any make-up. Not surprisingly, they'd devoured the entire pizza, leaving her not even a single sliver of crust. Biting the inside of her cheek, Jessica strode past them into the kitchen.

She dug a can of tomato soup out of the pantry and made herself a grilled cheese sandwich to go with it. Only the grilled cheese reminded her of Garrett, and she was struck by an overwhelming urge to cry. She'd give anything to be able to turn back the clock and not pick Wade up from the hospital.

Then the memory of that woman sitting on Garrett's lap while they sucked face caused her tear ducts to pucker shut as a spark of anger fanned slowly to life. The unfaithful jerk had waited all of a few hours before finding comfort in the arms of another.

Shaking off all negative thoughts, Jessica decided to get a load of laundry going. She headed downstairs, but switched directions when she realized one of her work uniforms was out in the truck.

Someone shouted her name just as she reached the curb. She looked up and saw Sara jogging toward her, Ethan right on her heels. Jessica stopped and blew out a hard breath. She liked Sara. Very much, in fact. But she just wasn't in the mood to have this particular conversation. Sara adored Garrett and no doubt intended to rip Jessica a new one for daring to hurt her precious brother.

"Hey, I was hoping we could talk for a minute,” Sara said when she'd reached her.

"Listen, I know what you're going to say, but—"

Sara held up her hand and shook her head. She glanced down at Ethan. “Sweetie, why don't you go on in. I'll be there in a few minutes."

Ethan scowled his displeasure, as usual, but did as he was told.

"I just wanted to make sure you're all right. I know you and Garrett had a falling out, but that's all I know. Garrett won't tell any of us what happened."

Jessica didn't know what to say. She'd been sure Sara meant to chastise her for the whole Wade incident. “I'm fine, really. And I appreciate your concern.” Jessica glanced over in time to watch Garrett open the door for Ethan. Garrett cast them a curious look before disappearing back inside the house. She felt the familiar sting of tears and quickly returned her attention to Sara lest she embarrass herself by falling to pieces right there for all to see.

"But you're not going to tell me what happened either,” Sara guessed with a rueful smile.

"I'm sorry, I just don't see the point. Garrett made his choice, and so did I.” Jessica smiled in an attempt to lighten the mood. “I hope you and I can remain friends. I mean, if you'd still like to."

Sara threw her arms around Jessica and gave her a surprisingly hard squeeze. Jessica hugged her back with just as much fervor. She really liked Sara and was grateful her new friend wasn't holding a grudge. Then, remembering what Garrett had confided to her at the restaurant, Jessica pulled back and looked down at Sara's stomach. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you.” Crap, that's right, she wasn't supposed to know. Oh, well, it wasn't as if Garrett could get any more mad at her than he already was.

Her distress must have shown on her face. Sara grinned and assured her, “It's fine. I kind of figured he'd tell you."

"I'm so happy for you. Mike and Ethan, too. They must be pretty excited."

Sara made a face. “Mike was thrilled once he got past his initial shock. Ethan, not so much. He's not exactly happy about having to share his father."

"Don't worry, he'll get over it."

"I know."

An awkward silence settled over them. Jessica thought about the little keepsake she kept in the glove box of her truck. Marky's very first toy, which she'd bought when she was six months pregnant. She'd stuffed it in there the day she'd hit the road for Green Bay and hadn't been able to bring herself to look at it since.

"Hang on a sec.” Jessica stepped over to her truck and opened the passenger-side door. She pursed her lips in contemplation as she eyed the glove box. It was a big step. Sort of like giving away her emotional crutch. And while she wasn't exactly sure why, she wanted Sara to have it. She had a feeling it would be a step in the right direction for herself as well.

Jessica opened the glove box and pulled out the precious brown teddy bear. Turning to Sara, she held it out and said, “I'd like you to have this. It belonged to my son."

A frown creased Sara's brow. She accepted the bear and lovingly stroked its little ears. “I don't know what to say. I had no idea you even had a child."

Jessica grabbed her uniform out of the truck and shut the door. None of them knew, not even Garrett. Somehow, she knew it was time. “My son, Marky, died more than two years ago. This was the first toy I ever bought him.” Tears stung her eyes. “He slept with it every night. Couldn't sleep unless it was clutched in his little fist."

"Jessica, I can't accept this. I'm honored, truly, but it obviously means too much for you to let it go."

"No, I want you to have it. I know you don't understand ... neither do I, really. I just know I want you to have it. Please."

Sara gazed down at the little brown bear for a moment, then looked up, a tremulous smile curving her lips. “Thank you so much."

After a quick, watery hug, Sara disappeared into the Jamison house, and Jessica into her own to get that laundry going and face the devils.

[Back to Table of Contents]

The moment Jack opened the door, Garrett threw an uppercut that would have felled an ox. Jack flew backward onto the bed, rolled off, and landed against the far wall with a thud.

"What the fuck was that for?” Jack demanded as he climbed to his knees. “Shit, I think you broke my jaw—"

"You tried to run me over, you slashed my tires. Jessica's, too. Take your pick. You should be grateful I'm such a forgiving guy.” Garrett slammed the door shut behind him.

Jack snorted. He stood up and tested to make sure his jaw still worked. “You stole seven years of my life. I should've run your ass over and never looked back.” He walked over to the sink and checked his face in the mirror.

Garrett glanced around with disgust. A twinge of guilt that he was at least partly responsible for Sutton's present situation gnawed at him. Not purposely responsible, of course, but if he hadn't been so afraid for his family, he would have followed his instincts.

"You were found unconscious next to a corpse with the murder weapon in your hand."

"Yeah, your buddy, Driscoll, did a great job of setting me up. And you had the easiest job of all. Accidentally stumble onto the crime scene."

What could he say? Driscoll
had
sent Garrett to check out the abandoned warehouse he'd found Jack and Eddie Morales in. Garrett distinctly remembered a chill had run up his spine. He'd only been a rookie at the time, but he'd still thought the crime scene looked suspiciously like a set-up. And it hadn't helped that Garrett already suspected Driscoll of being involved in shady dealings.

"You weren't the only one who was set up,” Garrett finally muttered.

Jack strode over and gaped at him. “What the hell are you saying? Are you admitting—"

"I'm not saying anything. Look, you were convicted of murder by a jury of your peers. You were found unconscious with the murder weapon in your hand."

"Yeah,” Jack said, “I must have fainted right after I plugged Morales."

Smartass.
“I admit, it seemed a little strange, but I'm a cop, and I deal with facts. And the facts were, I found you lying next to the victim with the murder weapon in your hand."

"Tell me, did they check for gun residue on my hands?"

"I'm sure your lawyer explained to you those tests are inadmissible in court."

"Exactly as I figured. No test was done, and my good-for-nothing lawyer was no doubt paid off by Driscoll, that rat bastard."

Garrett blew out a hard breath. “Look, I don't know whether you were set up or not. But either way, I had nothing to do with it."

Jack stared at him, obviously struggling to believe Garrett's claim. “Your testimony put me behind bars."

"I told the truth, plain and simple."

Jack let loose with a derogatory laugh as he dropped down into the dark-green, padded armchair. “You said exactly what Driscoll wanted you to say, whether you knew it or not. Everybody did what Driscoll said or they ended up like Morales."

Garrett propped his hands on his hips. Sutton was right and Garrett knew it. And the bitch of it was, there wasn't a damn thing they could do about it. Driscoll was long gone, and certainly he was too smart to have left behind any evidence linking him to the murder.

"Driscoll transferred to New York City years ago, so I doubt you have anything to worry about. Maybe you should just be thankful you didn't end up like Morales and get on with your life. You're a young guy—"

"Don't you fucking patronize me.” Jack shot to his feet and swiped his fingers through his hair. “I'm supposed to be
thankful
that prick stole seven years of my life? I'm supposed to just let him get away with it?"