CHAPTER 1
This isn’t happening. I’ve woken up in someone else’s life again and this time, it feels like a fairytale. We should be on our way to the Hamptons right now. And surely they’ll let us go once they understand that Rachel was lying… why the hell did I get in the truck?
The hours after our arrests crawled by in a blur of procedures and disbelief. Before shoving Asher and me into the back of separate police cars, one of the cops stuffed our cuffed hands into thick plastic bags to preserve any gunshot residue. Upon arrival at the San Luis Obispo Sheriff’s station, the bags were removed and my hands were covered in carbon tape; the female officer in charge of my intake cringed and apologized as she removed the tape with quick, stinging pulls.
Officer Masters handed me a white jumpsuit and turned her head as I stripped out of my clothes. Once I was dressed, she stuffed my things into an evidence bag and took me to be photographed and printed. The department’s fingerprint scanner had crashed earlier that morning, so I got to do things the old fashioned way. I stared down at the black ink on my hands and knew that regardless of what happened next, my life would never be the same.
When it was time to make my phone call, I dialed Kennedy’s number from memory. When her line went straight to voicemail, I was allowed a second call. Parker answered on the first ring and assured me she was minutes from the sheriff’s station. She also explained that she’d alerted Kennedy the moment she’d woken up and found us gone that morning. She and Jackson had hopped on the fastest family jet and would be landing in San Luis Obispo within the hour. Parker advised me to sit tight and keep my mouth shut until she got to the station. I promised not to speak and insisted that she see Asher before me. I ended the call and Officer Masters led me to an interrogation room.
It makes sense that they arrested us. It was our word against Rachel’s and Asher and I were the ones with the guns in our hands. But Kennedy and Parker will be able to straighten everything out. They’ll explain Rachel’s history. Detective Austin can bring them up to speed on the case. This is just an unexpected bump in the road. It will be settled before dinner time.
I shifted my weight on the unforgiving plastic chair and stared down at my stained hands. The pungent smell of hot gunpowder lingered in my nostrils and the image of Luis Chavez bleeding out on the rustic wood floor flashed through my mind. But most unsettling was Asher’s voice echoing through my head, addressing Chavez as “Uncle.” I had no doubt about it: the moment Luis stepped out of the cabin, Asher Reynolds had morphed back into Billy Murphy. And once again, he’d taken a life to protect someone he loved.
My jumpsuit had short sleeves and the interrogation room was freezing. I pulled my arms close to my chest, rubbing my bare skin in an attempt to warm myself with the friction. Someone on the other side of the one-way glass must have noticed; a few moments later, two new officers entered the room with three steaming coffees. They took seats on the other side of the table, placing the spare Styrofoam mug between them.
“Ms. Matthews, I’m Detective Logan,” the rounder officer announced. He emptied a manila folder and stared down at the paperwork, his green eyes full of sympathy. It was clear that the red headed detective was playing the role of good cop.
“This is my partner, Detective Stanley—”
Aka bad cop.
Detective Stanley was tall and thin, with broad shoulders and an unforgiving glare across his pale face. He sneered at me and Logan continued.
“It looks like you got yourself mixed up in quite the mess, Ms. Matthews. Let me assure you that I understand how you wound up here. Mr. Reynolds is a very wealthy man. I’m sure you got wrapped up in the fantasy aspects of his life. Anyone would. You don’t seem the type to get involved in vigilante justice. I assume you had no idea what you were in for when you set out with Asher this morning. I know you don’t have a record and you must feel pretty overwhelmed right now. If you’ll just explain to us what happened after you left Mr. Reynold’s estate, we’ll get you out of here asap.”
Chilly air blew from the vent above my head and the hair on the back of my neck stood up straight. I was miserable and terrified, but I refused to play their game. I relaxed my arms to my sides, held my head high, and stared defiantly across the table.
“I’m not answering any questions until my lawyer is here,” I insisted.
Detective Stanley let out a snort and took a drink of his coffee. He turned to his partner with a frown.
“I told you she wouldn’t talk. Because she was as much a part of this as her boyfriend. Isn’t that right, Lauren?” he pressed.
He’s trying to force a reaction. He wants me to defend myself or lash out so he can prove I have a temper. I cannot lose my cool.
“I’m not answering anything without my lawyer,” I repeated, this time a little less aggressively.
“You can wait for your lawyer, but she isn’t going to be much help to you,” Stanley retorted. “According to the responding officers, Mr. Reynolds was holding a pistol when they broke through the door. But you had the real fire power, didn’t you? And you gave Ms. Goins quite the beating with it. According to the ER doctor, you broke three bones in her face.”
She broke her own fucking face. For the love of God, Kennedy, where are you?
I wasn’t sure how much longer I could sit there holding my tongue while Detective Stanley taunted me. Fortunately for me, I didn’t have to wait long. Kennedy stormed into the room just as Stanley pushed a photograph of Rachel’s face across the table.
“My name is Kennedy Montgomery. I’m Ms. Matthew’s attorney and I demand a moment to speak privately with my client,” she insisted, tossing her briefcase onto the table.
“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Montgomery. I’m Detective Logan and this is my partner Detective Stanley. We’ll clear the room and give you a few minutes to confer with your client. When you’re ready to begin, we’ll be in the break room across the hall.”
Kennedy gripped my hand under the table while the detectives gathered their things. Stanley gave us a final sneer before the two of them left us alone.
“What are the chances there’s someone watching on the other side of that glass?” I whispered, my eyes fixed to the mirror.
“None,” she assured me. “I’m your attorney. Our privacy is protected by law. And I planted an intern outside the door to the viewing room, just in case.”
She folded her arms over her chest and gave me a stern look. “Parker called when she woke up and realized the two of you had taken off in Asher’s truck. I tried to tell myself that you’d just gone off for some private time before the press conference. But when you didn’t answer your phone, Jackson and I set off for the airport. By the time we got there, Detective Austin had checked in and told us about Asher’s call. What the hell happened, Lauren? And what the fuck were you thinking, going after Rachel all on your own without so much as your cell phone?”
My heart squeezed as I looked into my friend’s eye. I could feel her anger seething under the surface. “I’ll explain everything. I promise. I haven’t seen Asher since they loaded us in the police cars. Detective Stanley said Rachel’s at the hospital. Please tell me that you brought her medical records and we’ll be able to prove she’s lying.”
Kennedy raised one eyebrow; the rest of her expression remained unfazed. “Is she lying?”
“Of course she is!” I insisted, shocked that she’d even asked. “How long have you known me, Kennedy? Do you really think I’d hit someone in the face with the barrel of a shotgun?”
“Yes,” she answered without hesitation. “If you were put in a situation where you had to. We don’t have much time. Tell me the story from the beginning.”
I took a deep breath and started by explaining Asher’s dream. Kennedy listened silently, gasping as I recounted the confrontation at the cabin.
“So she hit herself with the shotgun?”
I nodded and rubbed my temples with my fingers. “It all happened so fast. Before we left the truck, Asher told me to drop if he said the name Livingston. He said it and I hit the ground. When I first heard the shot, I didn’t know who’d fired. For a minute… for a minute I thought Asher was dead.” I hugged myself again, this time more from the memory than the cold. “I told you what happened. Now it’s your turn. Is Parker with Asher? Did you bring Rachel’s medical records?”
“Yes and yes,” she assured me. “Asher’s in the interrogation room down the hall. Parker and Detective Austin got here about half an hour before I did. Parker’s with Asher and Austin is speaking with the Lieutenant in charge of the case. He brought all of your case files from San Jose and the Goins family has faxed over Rachel’s medical history as well as signed affidavits regarding her mental state.”
“So this will all be cleared up soon?” I asked, trying not to hope.
“I’m not sure it will be that easy,” she warned. “We have a whole lot of paperwork, but no solid evidence. Rachel’s parents dragged her to plenty of doctors, but she never received an actual diagnosis. We can’t prove that she’s hiding Asher’s money until we find it. At the moment, it’s her word against yours, and—”
“And when the cops broke down the door, Luis was dead, Rachel was on the ground bleeding, and Asher and I had guns in our hands,” I recounted Detective Stanley’s words with a sigh. “We called the police. Doesn’t that count for something?”
“You called Austin, who has zero jurisdiction in San Luis Obispo,” she reminded me. “And you continued on to the cabin against his warning… with a loaded weapon.”
“I didn’t know about the pistol until we were already on the road,” I promised her.
“I believe you. But the fact remains that Asher took a loaded gun into the cabin and used it to kill Luis Chavez. To anyone unfamiliar with the backstory, this looks like premeditated murder. If Asher’s convicted—”
Panic raced through my body. “We can’t let that happen. What can we do to keep that from happening?”
“We’ll do everything we can, Lauren. We still have people looking for Asher’s money. I have a clerk drafting subpoenas for every doctor who so much as reviewed Rachel’s medical files. There are a dozen people following two dozen different leads in an attempt to keep Asher out of jail.”
Tension rose in Kennedy’s voice and her face flushed red. She was frustrated with me and I deserved it. I squeezed her hand and spoke in a soothing tone. “I’m sorry. I know I must have given you quite a scare.”
“I don’t know what the hell you were thinking. But I know you didn’t understand the kind of danger you were putting yourself in. Asher should have known better. I’ll never forgive him for taking you along.”
“He didn’t force me into the Explorer,” I insisted.
She raised her eyebrow again. “Didn’t he? Your choices were to go along or be left to worry. He should have stayed put and let the law take care of this. Rachel and Luis would both be behind bars right now.”
“I agree that we could have handled things better. But there’s no use dwelling on it. What are we going to do now?”
Kennedy shifted in her seat and looked down at the table. “You’re not going to want to hear this. But as your attorney, I’d be negligent if I didn’t suggest that we file for a separation. I can represent you; Parker will take care of Asher. We both know his GRT is going to come back positive. He has a long, dirty history with Luis and Rachel and plenty of reasons to want both of them dead. If the DA’s office finds a doctor who will declare Rachel sane, Asher could very easily be convicted. If you’re tried separately, you’ll have a good chance of not serving time.”
I shook my head. “I won’t do it. Asher is the man I love, not a sinking ship. I won’t abandon him.”
Kennedy sighed. “I expected you to say that. But I had to at least make the suggestion. Now, I’m going to go get Logan and Stanley. They’re going to ask you a lot of questions and I want you to answer them honestly, but count to four first. That will give me time to make any objections. Make eye contact with them and don’t fidget. If you’re asked something you don’t want to answer, signal me by crossing your legs.”
“Got it.”
I took a series of deep breaths to calm myself while Kennedy went to fetch the detectives.
***
I spent two grueling hours in the frigid interrogation room, desperately trying not to lose my temper. The more aggressive the detective’s questions became, the harder it was to keep my tone in check.
It was clear by their attitudes they believed Rachel’s side of the story. Kennedy pointed out that we had case files from San Jose and Las Angeles to corroborate our stories. Detective Logan countered by reminding her that the moment we had a lead on Rachel and Luis, we’d taken justice into our own hands. Detective Stanley took it a step further and accused Asher and me of manipulating the police from day one. They refused to believe my version of events and I refused to lie and tell them what they wanted to hear.
When it became apparent that the interrogation was going nowhere, Stanley turned off the tape recorder and announced that an officer would be in shortly to escort me to my cell. He took great joy in telling me that there wasn’t room for our arraignment on the afternoon docket, so Asher and I would be spending the night in lockup. Kennedy promised to do what she could to change that and set off for the courthouse.
My cell was tiny, but private. Most importantly, it was at least fifteen degrees warmer than the interrogation room. The cinderblock walls were painted a drab taupe and the metal bed frame was topped with a one-inch cushion. A small metal toilet was mounted in the corner and I prayed I’d never have to use it. I laid down on the mattress and stared up at the stained ceiling tiles.
I wonder where Asher is right now. They’re probably still questioning him. I expected things to get worse before they got better, but this is a nightmare. I can’t imagine the story Rachel’s concocting right now. Let her talk. As soon as her medical records catch up with her, it’ll be game over.
That was the mantra I’d been reciting since I was handcuffed at the cabin. “As soon as they understand what’s really going on, this will all be over.” But the more time I spent on the threadbare jail mattress, the less I believed myself. I had no phone, no clock, no way at all to know how much time had passed. I closed my eyes and resolved myself for a miserable night. At some point, I drifted off to sleep.
The sound of my cell door clanging open startled me awake. I bolted upright, completely disoriented.
“Your lawyer is a miracle worker,” Officer Masters announced, tossing me a garment bag. “She convinced a judge to hold your arraignment before she leaves the courthouse this afternoon. I’ll turn my head while you change and then escort you to the transport van.”
I breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”
The officer nodded and turned her back to me. I unzipped the black bag and found a white silk blouse and a tastefully cut, black Prada pantsuit. I said a silent prayer of thanks for my best friend’s fantastic taste and unlimited clothing budget as I pulled on the designer pieces. Simple black pumps and a single strand of pearls completed my modest, elegant look.
“I’m ready,” I announced, pulling on the jacket.
“I’m sorry, but I have to cuff you,” she explained, a hint of apology in her voice.
Maybe someone here is on our side.
“I understand,” I assured her. I moved my arms behind my back and she shook her head.
“It’s okay. You can keep them in front of you.”
I held my arms out to her and she fastened the cuffs.
“Detective Austin is still here,” she said, her voice hushed. She peered out the cell door, her eyes darting down the empty corridor and then back to me. “He’s been proclaiming your innocence for hours. Logan and Stanley aren’t buying it. Neither’s the Lieutenant. But for what it’s worth, the two of you don’t seem like cold-blooded killers to me.”
Hope swelled in my chest. “You believe us?”
She nodded. “The way Austin described Ms. Goins… it sounded pretty familiar to me. My cousin, Carly, is just like her. It’s like she’s missing the piece of her brain that tells her the difference between right and wrong. And when she gets fixated on something, God help anyone who stands in her way.”
“Yeah, that sounds like Rachel,” I agreed.
“Cynthia,” Officer Masters corrected me.
“That’s right. The doctors said we’re supposed to call her by her real name.”
“She’s asked to be called Cynthia,” she explained.
What? That doesn’t make any sense. She practically crawled out of her skin when Asher called her Cynthia. Now she’s insisting on it? What the hell does she have up her sleeve?
Officer Masters slid the cell door open again and led me through a maze of hallways. We reached the back of the building and she opened the door to a loading dock where a transport van was waiting.
“The press has been camped out by the front door all day long, so we thought it would be best to sneak you out the back,” she explained.
“Shit. I hadn’t even thought about the press. How much do they know?”
The officer shrugged. “I haven’t had time to pay attention. Good luck in court. I hope you get bail. If not, I’ll see you soon.”
She opened the van’s sliding door; Asher was already waiting on the long bench seat. He looked like he’d aged a decade in the hours since I’d last seen him, but his eyes softened slightly when they fell on me. Officer Masters helped me onto the seat and buckled me in before sliding the door closed again. The driver paid us no attention as he pulled the van away from the dock.
“Are you okay?” Asher asked, his voice barely a whisper. I met his eyes and answered with a slight nod. The driver still seemed to be ignoring us, but I wasn’t sure if it was smart to talk in front of him.
Asher seemed to agree that silence was our best option. He slid across the leather seat until our legs touched and then covered my cuffed hands with his. We circled around one side of the building and a stray cluster of reporters spotted the van. The windows were too dark for them to see our faces, but that didn’t change their reaction. They grabbed their phones as they raced to the visitor’s parking area and I knew they’d probably beat us to the courthouse steps.
The whole world is hearing Rachel’s version of the story right now. They’re hearing that Asher is really Billy and that once again, he’s killed a member of the Chavez family. I wonder if stock in the company has skyrocketed or taken a nosedive.
I knew there would be plenty of people who were appalled by what Asher had done. But I suspected that there would be even more who admired him for it. The Chavez family was the embodiment of the immigrant criminal stereotype and no one would be sad to hear there was one less of them in the world.
Oh holy shit. If the story’s broken, Mom and Dad know. They must be going crazy. I’m surprised they didn’t show up at the jail. They’re never going to forgive me for this.
I held tightly to Asher’s hands as we bumped along the narrow city road. The courthouse was only a few blocks away from the sheriff’s department and as I expected, a handful of news vans were already parked outside. And unlike the jail, there wasn’t a secured back entrance for us to take advantage of. The driver pulled up to the curb in front of the courthouse steps and we were immediately swarmed with reporters. Asher took a deep breath and blew it out roughly.
“I’m so sorry, Lauren. Just keep your head down and don’t say anything,” he directed. He unbuckled my seatbelt, then his, and then climbed over me as a team of officers parted the crowd.
“I’ll go out first,” Asher continued. “I’ll block you as best as I can.”
The door slid open and dozens of demanding voices assaulted us from all sides as we stepped out onto the sidewalk.
“Mr. Reynolds, now that your past has been uncovered, will you continue to live under your alias?”
“Asher, is it true that your ties to the Chavez family go back to childhood?”
“There have been reports that the former director of your art department is somehow involved in the case. Can you comment on the state of EnvisionTech at this time?”
“Ms. Matthews, were you aware of your boyfriend’s past?”
“Did you and Asher go to the cabin with the intent to kill Luis Chavez?”
“Would either of you like to comment on Miguel?”
I heard the questions, but I couldn’t see where they were coming from. I kept my head down and gripped the hem of Asher’s suit coat as we shuffled up the steps. Officers flanked us on all sides to protect us from the crowd and their cameras.
When we finally made it through the glass doors, the press was forced to stay outside. Kennedy and Parker were waiting on a nearby bench and rushed over when they spotted us.
“How did you pull this off?” I whispered to my friend as an officer released my cuffs. The moment my hands were free, I reached for Asher. We locked hands and a wave of calm rushed through my body.
“Judge Steinbeck is an old colleague of my mother’s,” Kennedy explained. “She’s also Chairman of the Board for the International Women’s Literacy Council, which Mom and Jack have both contributed to for decades.”
“Couldn’t the prosecutor allege that there’s a conflict of interest?” Asher asked, his voice brimming with concern.
Kennedy shook her head. “We’ve never met, and she and Mom are acquaintances at best. If judges had to recuse themselves from every case involving someone they’re distantly connected to, dockets would be jammed up across the country. Now, let’s get inside and get seated. We don’t want to keep the judge waiting.”
She turned and led us through a set of heavy oak doors into a small courtroom. Small, sturdy tables sat in front of eight rows of worn leather seats. Kennedy led us past the small group of people gathered in the aisles and gestured toward the defense table. Parker took the seat closest to the prosecutor and Kennedy settled in beside her. I took the seat between Kennedy and Asher and scanned the faces in the room.
“Kennedy, have you heard from my parents?” I whispered. Asher heard the question and gave my hand a gentle, reassuring squeeze.
Kennedy swallowed nervously and nodded. “They called about thirty seconds after Channel Two interrupted the Today show and announced the arrest.”
“Are they beside themselves?”
“They’re worried about you. Claire is with them now. She’s explained the truth, but she’s not sure they’re buying it. I thought it would be best if they didn’t know about the hearing. I thought it would be best if you aren’t in cuffs the next time they see you.”
“Agreed.”
Before I could say more, a small grey haired woman in black robes stepped through the chamber door.
“All rise,” the bailiff’s voice bellowed through the room. “Her Honorable Judge Vivian Steinbeck.”
“You may be seated,” the judge directed, settling in behind her bench. She pulled a pair of rimless reading glasses from the top of her head to the tip of her nose and stared down at her desk.
“This court is now in session. We’re here this afternoon to address the matter of the State of California against Asher Reynolds and Lauren Matthews. If the defendants will please stand.”
The four of us rose to our feet and she continued.
“Mr. Reynolds, Ms. Matthews, to the charge of unlawful possession of a firearm, how do you plead?”
Kennedy cleared her throat. “If I may, Your Honor, the defense waives reading of the charges. At this time, I move that all charges be dismissed without prejudice until the court has had an opportunity to have Cynthia Goins evaluated by an independent team of mental health professionals.”
The judge shuffled through paperwork. “Cynthia Goins… the victim?”
The balding prosecutor sprung to his feet. “Objection. Your honor, Ms. Goins has been transported to Cedar Sinai and is currently undergoing facial reconstruction surgery. It will be days if not weeks before she’s in any condition to undergo any type of questioning. This is a blatant attempt by the defense to stall the case long enough for the defendants to disappear.”
“My clients have no intention of disappearing,” Kennedy insisted. “Their only desire is to clear their names and see that Ms. Goins gets the care and help she so desperately needs.”
Judge Steinbeck studied the paperwork for a few silent moments and then peered up at Kennedy over the top of her lenses.
“Motion denied, counselor. These medical reports describe Ms. Goins’ mental state during childhood. Decades old medical records are not ample grounds to delay this case. How do your clients plead?”
“Not guilty on all charges,” Asher replied, his voice firm.
The judge looked to him, then to me. Somehow, I managed to spit the words out of my dry mouth. “Not guilty.”
“By reason of self-defense, in regards to the murder charges,” Kennedy added. “I’d like to move that bail—”
“I object,” the prosecutor interrupted with a snort. “Your Honor, Mr. Reynolds is a proven flight risk. Ten years ago, when he was William Murphy, he killed Miguel Chavez and then fled the state. This morning, he killed another member of the Chavez family. Let’s not give him a chance to carry out the rest of his pattern.”
“Ten years ago, my client was a scared teenager who felt that disappearing was the only way to save his life,” Kennedy corrected him. “Today, he’s an established, respected member of society. And he has nothing to hide. Ms. Matthews has no criminal history. She was nothing more than an innocent bystander whose life was saved thanks to Mr. Reynolds’ actions. I’m confident that once the facts are presented, everyone in this room will agree with me.”
She threw a sideways glance to the annoyed prosecutor and then turned back to the bench.
“In the meantime, my clients are in danger. Mr. Reynolds has lived most of his life in fear of the Chavez family. Their actions justified that fear when he was a child and they justified it again this morning. I’m sure Your Honor is aware that the family is fond of revenge and has deep criminal ties within the prison system. Undercover operatives within the family have reported that there is now a price on Mr. Reynolds’ head. I move that bail be set at whatever Your Honor sees fit and my clients be released under condition of house arrest.”
“The State is more than capable of housing Mr. Reynolds and Ms. Matthews safely,” the prosecutor insisted.
“The State has failed my clients time and time again. If released, both would reside at Mr. Reynolds’ San Jose estate. They have ample resources to ensure their safety. Mr. Reynolds is also willing to allow the court real time access to his home security cameras, so there is never any question as to my clients’ whereabouts.”
The judge raised an eyebrow and turned to Asher. “That’s an unconventional offer.”
“I’m willing to do whatever it takes to keep Ms. Matthews safe. And I have nothing to hide.”
Judge Steinbeck pulled off her glasses and laid them upside down on the desk. “This case is unique, to say the least. I don’t see the need to access your home security at this time. Quite frankly, I don’t feel the case warrants the mountain of paperwork legal access would require. Bail is set at one million dollars apiece. The defendants will be released on the conditions they surrender their passports and are outfitted with personal monitoring devices. While Ms. Goins’ childhood medical records were not grounds for dismissal, the court does recognize the need to have her mental state evaluated.”
“Your Honor,” the prosecutor interrupted.
The judge held up a hand to silence him. “Mr. Donaldson, she is the only witness in this case. And though her records are dated, they are concerning. Need I remind you that as a prosecutor, it’s in your best interest that your star witness be a sound one?”
“No, Your Honor,” he conceded.
“That settles it. Ms. Goins will be evaluated by each of your experts. I’m scheduling jury selection for October first. This court is adjourned.”
When Judge Steinbeck slammed her gavel against the bench, I didn’t know whether to hug Asher or Kennedy first.