Chapter Nineteen
Jack cooperates while he’s stripped searched, fingerprinted, and posed for his mugshot. The police officers are grumpy during the whole process. It probably has to do with the hordes of media gathered outside, their cameras flashing incessantly as they try to get Jack’s picture. It’s not Jack’s fault, but the officers take it out on him, jerking his arm to roll his finger in the ink, and insulting him for being a spoiled brat beneath their breath.
Still, Jack cooperates. He even flashes a smile to the pariahs outside when he passes by a window, causing a barrage of camera clicks and flashes, and people shoving each other to get closer. One of the cops outside controlling the crowd flips Jack off.
The guard at Jack’s side, a burly man with gray hair, grips his arm more tightly. “Enjoying the spotlight, you rich fuck? Everyone out there wants to watch you burn. And you will.” He laughs thickly with blood lust.
Jack is surprised that he doesn’t have the immediate urge to punch this man. The old Jack, who allowed anger to consume him, and didn’t give a fuck about the consequences, would’ve done just that. Instead, he shuffles forward without a response. He knows the truth now, at least, most of it. He’s focused on getting out of here, and getting back to Amber.
The guard shoves him into a small cell. “Here’s your penthouse. Not much of a view, unfortunately.”
Jack steps inside. “Phone call.”
The guard taps his baton against the bars, making a clanging sound. “You’ll get your fucking phone call when we say you can.”
Jack turns around slowly, his eyes burning with determination. “Give me my phone call, now. Don’t fuck with my rights, or my lawyer will be all over it. You don’t want to set me loose on a technicality, do you?”
The guard sneers, then slams the cell closed. Jack watches out of the bars as the guard speaks with another man, then comes back.
“You rich pricks are all the same,” the guard says, jiggling his keys in the locks. He slides open the bars, then roughly grabs Jack’s arm. “You’re not getting out of this one, Larsen.”
The guard stays close by, his arms crossed, his gaze leveled at Jack, as Jack dials Joel’s number.
“Golding, Holderman, and Associates. This is Joel Golding.”
“It’s Jack.”
Joel is quiet for a moment. Jack hears him closing a door through the phone.
“Where are you?” Joel asks.
“In jail. They got me.”
Joel sucks in a sharp breath. “I suppose you want me to come down there and help you?”
“I need you, Joel,” Jack says. “I know the truth now. I know everything.”
“Then you know my law firm had nothing to do with your father’s death.”
“Yes,” Jack hisses.
Jack thinks he hears a sigh of relief coming from Joel’s end.
“Do you know where Amber is?” Jack asks.
“No, I don’t know where Amber is,” Joel says, sarcastically. “After the last time we spoke, you know, when you accused me of killing your father and tried to choke me, I haven’t wanted to see either one of you.”
Jack shoots a quick glance at the guard behind him, then leans his forehead against the wall, talking quietly. “I didn’t know if I could trust you.”
“You trust me now?”
The guard begins to tap his watch, telling Jack his time is almost up.
“Joel, do you remember that night in the ballroom?” Jack asks quickly. “With the woman in the mask?”
Joel pauses for a moment. “Yes,” he says, darkly. “Do you?”
“I only see flashes,” Jack says. “You know how my memory is. Do you know what happened?”
Joel sighs. “I’m pretty sure we watched Henry rape that woman, though he insisted she was consenting.”
“I didn’t touch her?”
“No, and neither did I.”
Anger bubbles up from Jack’s core, bringing heat to the surface of his skin. “It’s fucking Henry,” Jack whispers harshly. “Get down here and help me get that fucker.”
There’s a few moments of silence. The guard approaches Jack, telling him his time is up. As the guard takes the phone from Jack and puts it back on the receiver, Jack hears Joel saying he’ll be right there.
*
Henry drives Amber to a hotel downtown. The building is posh, but deserted. Henry unlocks a side door with a key from his pocket, and gestures for her to go inside.
“What is this place?” Amber asks.
“I own this property,” Henry explains. “Jack’s hiding here.”
Jack. Amber has such a need to fall into Jack’s arms, her eyes flit hopefully into the darkness inside. She still can’t believe she allowed herself to be deceived into thinking Jack was a villain. He’s not. He’s the strong, protective, deeply troubled man she fell in love with. She steps inside, practically feeling Jack’s lips against hers.
“Do the lights work?” She holds her hands out, feeling her way through the darkness.
“We don’t want to turn them on. Someone might see. Hold on to my arm. I know this place like the back of my hand.”
Amber clutches at the fine material of Henry’s suit, and follows him deeper into the darkness.
“How does Jack know it’s Joel?” Amber asks. “Did he find something?”
“That white-haired detective did,” Henry explains. “I’m a little fuzzy on the details. I’m sure Jack will explain everything to you.”
Amber’s steps slow, causing Henry to stumble a little. “You know about the detective?”
“Yep,” Henry says, hurrying her along.
Amber keeps walking, her brow furrowed pensively. “Someone tipped Detective Simon off, a woman, she knew where Jack was.”
“That would probably be Eva. Joel hired her, remember? Then you and Jack foiled his plans by bribing the detective.”
Amber’s train of thought snags on an inconsistency. She stops walking completely, making Henry huff in frustration. “How do you know she’s using the name Eva?”
Henry stops, turning towards her. “She uses all kinds of different aliases. Who knows what her real name is?” He tugs at her arm. “Come on. Let’s go.”
Amber remains still. “Eva rents an apartment in the building you own.” The words float dully out of her mouth and hang in the air between them. When Amber processes the realization, she looks up at Henry’s dark outline, then towards the exit. She can’t see the door. They’re too far into the darkness.
Amber’s throat tightens with panic. She acts fast, hurling her body towards the direction of the door. But Henry’s faster, stronger. He holds tight to her arm, then pulls her against his chest, his forearm squeezing against her neck. She struggles against him, but she can’t break free. She feels something, cold and metallic against, her cheek. Her eyes quickly adjust in the darkness, and she sees it’s a knife.
“Don’t make a sound,” Henry whispers against her ear.
*
Detective Simon has been hiding out in his office while Jack was processed. He sits behind his desk, hunched over, staring at nothing at all. This is it, Simon. Time’s up. Time to answer for your crimes.
It’s over. His life is over. Instead of a comfortable retirement, he’ll be spending his golden years in a prison cell. Maybe they’ll let him hang on to his pension, and he’ll be able to afford one of those cushy, private prisons for white collar crimes. It’s not a lot, but it’s all he has left to hope for.
There’s a quick knock on the door before it opens. A uniformed cop wearing a smug expression stands in the doorway.
“Bet you’ve been waiting for this day,” the cop says.
Simon nods quickly, gulping. “Yep. You bet.”
The cop gestures towards the interrogation room with a cocky grin. “He’s all yours.”
Simon takes a deep breath, then walks stoically out of his office. Through the one-sided window, he can see Jack sitting at the table with Joel Golding at his side.
Look at that. The friends made up, Simon thinks. What’s the story on this?
Before going inside, Simon slips into the AV room where the technician is setting up to record the interrogation.
“Hey, Steve,” Simon says. “Don’t start recording just yet. I want a minute alone with him.”
Steve swirls around in his chair, wearing a garish grin. “I get it. A little street justice.” He punches his fist into his palm. “Go get him, Detective.”
When Detective Simon walks into the interrogation room, he’s greeted by slow, sarcastic clapping from Jack.
“Will you cut the shit,” Simon scolds him.
Jack smiles deeply, and chuckles under his breath. “Good to see you, Simon. I assume you told them not to record us.”
“I did,” Simon says gruffly, sitting across from him. “Unfortunately, my fate is tied in with yours.” His gaze settles on the handcuffs around Jack’s wrist. “And it’s not looking good for either of us.” He points at Joel. “What’s he doing here? I thought you two were having a fight.”
“I know the truth now,” Jack says. “You can thank me for doing your job.”
“What’s the truth?”
“Henry, my cousin, was behind the whole thing.”
Simon’s chest lifts slightly. For a brief moment, he sees a slim chance of getting out of this. “What evidence do you have?”
“Nothing concrete yet,” Joel says. “We just need a little time.”
Simon grasps his hair, shaking his head. “No, no, no. You don’t have time. The chief wants to prosecute as soon as possible to save face. You’re going to trial, Jack.”
“Not if you help me get out of here,” Jack says.
Simon laughs. “I’ll do no such thing. I’ve already been burned trying to help you.”
Joel clasps his hands in front of him, leaning forward, a glimmer in his eyes. “You don’t want my client to go to trial. I’m well aware of the amount you were paid, sir. Any judge will throw Jack’s case out of court. How will that save face for the department? Unfortunately for you, you’ll be penalized for accepting bribes.”
Simon points at him. “Aren’t you the one who moved the money into my account?”
Joel shrugs. “That’s not what the documents show.”
Simon drums his fingertips against the table, looking between the two of them. They have him over a barrel and they know it.
“Then why not let it go to trial, huh?” Simon says. “If it’ll get thrown out anyway. Are you just trying to get me off the hook?”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” Jack says. “I can’t stay locked up in here. Amber is out there. So is Henry. He’ll try to get to her, if he hasn’t already.”
“How do you expect me to get you out of here?” Simon asks. “In case you haven’t noticed, the place is crawling with cops. And you’re enemy number one.”
Jack smiles darkly. “You’re pretty good at saving your own ass. I’m sure you’ll find a way.”
Simon pauses, considering his options. He’s spent most of his life in this police station, and he knows it inside and out.
“If I help you, you don’t breathe a word about the money?” Simon asks.
Jack holds his hands up, showing his palms. “I promise.”
Simon looks at Joel, who nods in compliance. “This better fucking work,” Simon says to both of them.
“Bathroom break,” Simon shouts to Steve in the AV room, as he leads Jack down the hallway.
“Want me to call a guard?” Steve asks.
“No need. I’ve got him.”
Steve pumps his fist in the air. “Need a little more alone time. I get it. I’ll just look the other way.” Whistling, he turns back to his control panel.
The other cops don’t pay much attention to Simon as he leads Jack in handcuffs through the hallways, with Joel by his side. Most of the cops are outside, trying to control the crowd that keeps accumulating, clogging up the street. But Simon knows of a place where no one will be. They walk quickly down the back staircase that no one uses, and down to the abyss of the subbasement.
“What’s all this stuff,” Joel asks, as they pass the mountain of boxes.
Simon chuckles. “Just all the elicit activities performed by Golding, Holderman, and Associates. Lucky for you, it’ll never see the light of day.”
Simon wishes he could punch that smile off of Joel’s face. The lawyer must sense Simon’s disdain. Joel laughs, patting Simon heartily on the back.
“If you can’t beat them, join them,” Joel says. “You’ll be glad to have us on your side. After all this plays out, you’ll have a lot of cleaning up to do.”
Fucker, Simon thinks, knowing Joel’s right.