“Then why are you here?” He didn’t stand, and his question sounded unpremeditated, like he really had no idea, like he really wanted to know why I was there.
“You . . . are a bastard,” I said, the words barely above a whisper and—to my shame—ripe with tears. “And I wish you well with your brotherhood of bastards. Goodbye, Isaac.”
I turned away from him before he could see the tears fall. Not waiting for Cletus or Billy or anyone else, I strolled right out of the conference room and into the hallway, my chin held high. I might be sad, but I was also mad. Anger would see me through until I made it to the car. Once there, I’d have myself a good cry. When we made it home, there would be wine. But for now, I floated on a cloud of fury.
At least that had been my hastily constructed plan before I came face-to-face with Deputies Boone and Williams, standing next to the reception desk and the gaping receptionist. Behind them were other folks in uniform and a smattering of two or three others in suits.
“Jennifer Sylvester,” Boone’s remorseful gaze betrayed what his steady, deep tenor did not as he said, “You’re under arrest for the murder of Kipling Sylvester.”
Chapter Fourteen
*Cletus*
“I loved Ophelia. Forty thousand brothers could not, with all their quantity of love, make up my sum.”
William Shakespeare, Hamlet
“Why haven’t they scheduled her arraignment yet?” I couldn’t stop pacing.
Pacing. Pacing. Pacing.
I’d been pacing nonstop for twenty-four hours. If I’d been in a different frame of mind, the frame of mind that entertained worries for anyone or anything else other than Jennifer, I might’ve been concerned for my mental health.
As it was, I was not, and did not, and I couldn’t stop pacing.
“The prosecutor gets three days to decide whether or not to press charges, Cletus.”
“I know, Jethro.”
He held his hands up and watched me like he was concerned for my mental health. “I’m not going to tell you to calm down, but wearing a hole in the pavement outside the station isn’t going to help. You need to come home. Let the lawyers—”
“Don’t.” I sliced a hand through the air. “Don’t say, ‘Let the lawyers handle it.’”
Boone wouldn’t let me ride with them in the elevator, so I’d taken the stairs. I’d followed their car all the way to the station. Beau and Shelly had gone out and rented an RV so we could spend the night in the parking lot. Jethro had arrived at 6:34 AM with coffee and breakfast. He’d even achieved the correct ratios of apple cider vinegar, coffee, and molasses. If I hadn’t been so busy pacing and going out of my mind with worry, I would’ve been impressed.
Jethro leaned back against his car where Beau and Shelly were also leaning, watching me pace. Drew and Billy were inside the station, trying to strong-arm the sheriff into allowing me a visit. All attempts thus far yesterday and this morning had been denied, as I suspected they would be.
Flo had explained several times that, since I wasn’t her husband, I had no rights to her. And she had none to me. Never before had I wished as fervently that we’d already eloped. But Billy, her congressman, had been allowed to see her. He’d said she was in good spirits. I wanted to strangle someone.
Sienna, currently at the homestead watching Benjamin, had called her legal teams from LA and New York. A swarm of lawyers would be converging on our present location any minute. Diane had sent her legal team, and they were inside already, but Sienna assured me that her people were the most ridiculously expensive, poised to argue lawyers she could find. God bless her.
My dear sister, trying a different approach, was right this minute bringing Jackson James a baked good of some sort. Never before had I been so thankful for her influence over blond law enforcement. Hopefully, it worked.
Since I could do nothing but think and pace, I decided I’d figure a way to break her out of jail, should the need arise. I knew I could count on Evans to help. Now I just needed to figure out a way to ensure he had transport duty to the courthouse—
“Your phone is ringing, Cletus.” Shelly’s flat as paper voice pulled me from my machinations.
“Pardon?”
“Your cell phone.” The tall mechanic walked over to me, reached in my back pocket, and handed me my phone. “Answer.”
“Thanks.” Shaking myself into the present, I glanced at the number. When I recognized it, I cursed. “What do you think you're doing?”
“It’s an emergency.”
Fucking Burro.
I paced away from my family toward the RV. “Don’t ever call me on this number.”
“Cletus—”
“Today is not the day.” I reached for the handle to the recreational vehicle, climbing the stairs, prepared to deliver a scathing censure. He knew better.
“Don’t hang up! This is an emergency. Isaac is here. He needs to meet with you.”
I curled my lip in disgust, shutting the door to the trailer behind me. “I don’t care what Isaac needs.”
“It’s about Jenn.”
“Tell him to fuck off.”
“No, you're gonna want to hear what he has to say.”
“I’m gonna want him to eat shit and die.” I began to pace the short length of the vehicle.
“Trust me, stop being so ornery.”
“You know I don't trust you.”
“Okay, fine. Then I guess your fiancée is going to jail for the rest of her life. Is that what you want?”
I stopped pacing, deciding that Burro would be the person I strangled.
“What’s the harm? Give him ten minutes. I promise—I swear—you will not regret it.”
Growling, I spun in a circle, looking for a pen. “Fine. Give me the address.”
“I’ll text it to you.”
“Whatever.” I marched back to the door, pulling my car keys from my pocket.
“And bring Jethro.”
“What? Why?”
“Just bring Jethro.”
“Fine, whatever. Goodbye.” Pushing open the door and slamming it behind me, I pointed at Jet.
“Who was that?” He straightened from his car.
“Jet, you’re with me.” I tossed him my keys. I was too discombobulated to drive. “And leave your phone here.”
He caught them easily and withdrew his cell, handing it to Beau. “Where are we going?”
I stopped in front of Beau and Shelly, glancing at the address Burro had just sent, recognizing it as a convenience store up in Hill country, and gave Beau my phone as well. “You two, can you stay here?”
“Absolutely.” Beau answered for them both. “Shop is closed, we’re here for you.”
“Good. Thanks.” I turned to leave.
Beau called after me, “Don’t worry. Jennifer will be fine.”
I lifted my hands in the air and yelled, “You don’t know that, don’t say that. You don't know that. Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” without turning around.
“I wasn't making a promise,” Beau ground out. “I was—never mind. Just, we’ll let you know if anything changes.”