When Noonday Ends: A Southern Romantic-Suspense Novel - Nantahala - Book Two Page 4

  “Yes, yes,” he demanded. “Ms. Castle? Is that you?”

  “Carlin’s dead…he’s dead. I found him—” Whimpers filled the other end of the line. “They think—”

  “Stop talking!” Tom bounded out of bed, stumbling toward his closet. “Yes or no answers only, Shelby. Your husband’s dead and you’re in jail again?”

  “Y…yes.” Her voice shook on the one-word answer.

  “Okay, Shelby, don’t say another word or talk to anyone. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Do you understand?”

  “K…yes…” she blubbered.

  He pushed ‘end’ as he reached for his clothes. That wasn’t the strong woman he’d spoken with on Friday and yesterday. This was a woman torn apart. Carlin was dead? Had she killed him? Would he be able to detect the truth from a lie?

  He stepped into the pants he’d worn yesterday for all of two hours, then yanked a fresh shirt and tie from a hanger. He stumbled into the bathroom as he tugged on a pair of socks. Shave, he definitely needed one. He hadn’t shaved yesterday, and now going into day two, he had a pronounced beard trailing up his jawline. Well, it was light anyway. He hoped that no one from the firm saw him.

  But he couldn’t be the first attorney jolted out of bed. He brushed his teeth while finger combing his hair, and then stepped into his shoes while he pulled the tie around his neck. Stuffing his phone in his front pocket, he ran out of the bedroom, scooped up his briefcase and keys by the front door, and sprinted to his BMW.

  He checked his scraggly appearance in the mirror as he backed out of his parking spot. For a brief second, he wondered what Shelby would think, then mentally slapped himself. How could he be thinking that way about a woman who may have killed her ex-husband?

  Even if he was abusive, he didn’t know how he felt about that, unless of course if she’d done it in self-defense. He shook the thoughts out of his head. Innocent until proven guilty, he reminded himself. His job was to question her, and if he felt comfortable, take the case and offer her the best representation.

  Tom parked the car, then jogged across the parking lot, but stopped before he approached the entrance. He smoothed his tie and inhaled a deep, calming breath. This was an important case, regardless of everything. He needed to do his best.

  After signing in, he sat and waited for a guard along with a few other people. The door opened and another attorney—who Tom recognized as Randall Belcher—walked in, looking as if he’d stepped out of GQ. Tom sunk a few inches lower in his chair. He’d always felt confident, but dressed as he was in front of Belcher, he suddenly felt like a slob.

  Belcher strolled up to an older gentleman who’d been sitting quietly in the corner. He’d made eye contact with Tom when he walked in, but then he’d resumed his perfect posture and simply stared at the door.

  Belcher stood in front of the man. “Didn’t expect to talk to you again so soon.” He sat next to the older gentleman, and they started talking in hushed tones that Tom couldn’t understand. Not that he should be listening, but what else was there to do?

  A guard stepped into the room. “Castle representative?”

  Tom jumped up, but then so did Belcher and the gentleman beside him. Both of their eyes connected with his, and then a look of understanding washed over their features.

  Belcher approached Tom first. “Turner, I presume? Shelby said she called you.”

  “Yes. Thomas Turner. Nice to meet you, Mr. Belcher.”

  The older attorney cocked his head. “I’m sorry. Have we met?”

  Tom shook his head. “No, sir. But I’ve watched you in court.”

  The seasoned attorney smiled, but shrugged it off as if he knew he was good and didn’t need confirmation from a newbie. “Well, Tom. It seems there has been a misunderstanding. I will be representing Mrs. Castle.” He turned and motioned to the gentleman behind him. “Clayton Castle has secured my services for the young lady.”

  Tom narrowed his eyes, but tried to remain cool and respectful. “Clayton Castle? Would that be Carlin Castle’s father? The accused’s ex-husband’s father? Wouldn’t that be a conflict of interest?” Well, he’d tried not to be rude, but he didn’t think he accomplished his goal.

  Mr. Castle stepped forward. “Mr. Turner, Shelby is the mother of my grandson. And I know she didn’t kill Carlin.”

  Tom nodded, watching the man’s eyes closely as he spoke.

  The guard cleared his throat, and all three men turned in his direction. “So, who’s talking to the inmate? I don’t have all day.”

  Tom glanced at the two gentlemen, then back at the guard. “I guess we’ll let Ms. Castle make that decision.”

  The guard gestured that they should be moving along.

  Shelby sat at the end of the table, her head resting on her folded arms, her distraught pose reminded him of the day he’d seen Chad at the police station.

  One day out of jail and she was already back. He wondered if she’d really killed her husband. At the moment, he didn’t even know how Carlin had died.

  “Your visitors are here, Ms. Castle,” the guard said, causing her to jump. She bounded to her feet, but her wrists were in cuffs.

  “Do you mind un-cuffing my client, sir?” Tom asked, taking a seat in the chair closest to Shelby.

  The other two men shuffled in behind him and pulled out the chairs on the opposite side of the table, taking a seat.

  Randall placed his briefcase on the table and flipped open the locks with an audible click. “You’re not her attorney yet, Mr. Turner, so I suppose we should settle that matter first.”

  Shelby’s eyes darted back and forth from one side of the table to the other, like a cornered mouse with no escape.

  The older attorney set a stack of papers in front of Shelby. “Mrs. Castle, I’ve already spoken with the magistrate and we will have you out of here in no time. Your father-in-law agreed to post the bond, if there is one, which I’m sure there will be based on the circumstances.”

  Shelby swallowed hard enough that Tom could hear her. She was scared to death.

  “Shelby,” Tom rested his hand on hers to get her focus on him, “I’m still willing to take your case—”

  Randall Belcher interrupted him with a harrumph. “Do you have experience defending a suspect accused of murder, Mr. Turner?”

  “Well, no, but I certainly think that I can remain more objective than an attorney hired by the deceased’s father.”

  Clayton Castle jolted up in his seat. “Now wait one second, Mr. Turner… You don’t know anything about my family—”

  “It’s okay, Clayton,” Shelby interrupted this time. Her eyes were bloodshot, but she appeared to be cognizant enough to talk. “Tom, thank you for coming here. But if my father-in-law is willing to hire an attorney for me,” she turned her gaze to Clayton, and he nodded his affirmation, “then, that would be better. I don’t have enough money to pay you.”

  “I already explained this on Friday, Shelby. You don’t have to pay me—”

  “Mr. Turner,” Belcher interrupted again. “The girl’s life could be at stake here. Certainly you aren’t willing to cut your teeth on a murder case, which could result in an execution or life sentence.” Shelby gasped, causing all heads to turn to her. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Castle. But facts are facts. You can’t afford to gamble your freedom with a lawyer who’s still green behind the ears.”

  Tears flowed down Shelby’s cheeks.

  “Shelby.” Clayton waited until she turned her attention to him. “I know you didn’t do it, honey. And I’m willing to hire Mr. Belcher to make sure the magistrate releases you as soon as possible. The only thing you have to decide is if you want my help or not.”

  She nodded, and Tom folded up his notebook. Belcher was right; he shouldn’t take the case. Though, he still wasn’t happy about Belcher taking it either. “Shelby, you still have my number…”

  She pulled in a ragged breath, nodding. “Mm-hm.”

  He smiled to give her some comfort he hoped. “Call me i
f you need me, okay?” She gulped again, as if trying to clear her throat to talk, so he patted her hand. “It’s okay. Just call me if you need anything.” Her mouth curved up a fraction, attempting a smile, but instead, she pulled in her bottom lip, holding back more tears, it seemed.

  Tom stood and packed his few items into his briefcase and walked out of the interview room without another word to the two men who now held Shelby’s life in their hands. He felt as if he’d fed her to the wolves.

  Chapter Eight

  “Why don’t you start at the beginning, Mrs. Castle?” the older lawyer asked her point-blank as soon as Tom walked out of the room.

  She stared after Tom, hoping he’d come rushing back inside the room. But maybe they were right. As much as she wanted Tom to defend her, if he’d never worked with something like this, what chance would she have?

  Even though she was the one who’d called in her ex-husband’s death, she was the one they’d arrested.

  Shelby regarded both men, then cleared her throat. It felt so dry, as though she hadn’t had water in days. ’Course, she was probably dehydrated after all the tears she’d wept. She’d not shed one tear for Carlin, though, he didn’t deserve her tears. Her cries had been for her baby, who, like her, would grow up without a daddy, and not much of a mommy if she ended up behind bars.

  Sniffing, she sat up straighter in her chair, determined to maintain her composure in front of these men. “It’s ‘Ms’, please. I divorced Carlin several years ago.”

  The older man tipped his head to her. “I apologize, Ms. Castle. My name is Randall Belcher, and your father-in-law and I go way back. I am a defense attorney, by the way. And I’m here to make certain that you get the best defense and get out of here as soon as possible. You have a two-year-old son that you need to take care of, I understand.”

  She nodded in agreement, but cringed inside. The man gave her the creeps, and it was clear that he’d thrown her son in her face only to maintain control over her. Men, they were all the same.

  Except her brother—and Tom, it seemed. Tom hadn’t tried to exert a power trip over her as Mr. Belcher had just tried. Tom had asked her questions, but he’d never looked down at her, and he genuinely seemed to care.

  “Why don’t we start at the beginning?” Belcher said again. “Your father-in-law has already retained me, so we are under attorney-client confidentiality, but you can sign your paperwork after I hear your side of the story.”

  Shelby couldn’t help the huff that burst out of her lips. My side of the story. So already, he didn’t believe her. “I’m sure Clayton told you about our conversation last night…” she began.

  Mr. Belcher turned to Clayton and shook his head, looking upset that her father-in-law hadn’t disclosed all the details.

  Clayton Castle shrugged as a dismissal of importance. “Didn’t think it mattered.”

  The attorney shook his head. “It all matters, Clayton. Nothing can take any one of us by surprise if we want to appear truthful—”

  “Let’s get one thing straight, Mr. Belcher,” Shelby cut in. “If you plan to defend me, you need to defend me as though I’m innocent, not assume I’m guilty. Do you understand me?” She focused on one set of eyes, then the other. “I will not be treated like a child—or a criminal. Is that clear?”

  Both men nodded, but she saw Mr. Belcher’s upper lip twitch. She wasn’t sure what it had meant, but she could deal with it. Even if he didn’t think she was innocent, he still needed to treat her as if she were, and more importantly, defend her as though she were innocent.

  Mr. Belcher pulled out a piece of paper from his file and pushed it across the desk. “Sign here please, Ms. Castle. I think you and I are going to get along fine.” He scooted away from the table a fraction, crossed his legs, and then reclined in the chair as though he were ready to listen to a good story. “Why don’t you start with your conversation with Clayton?”

  Shelby sucked in a breath, scribbled her name across the bottom, then slid the paper across the table. “You need to know everything? Okay. Let’s start with that conversation and the fact that my father-in-law threatened that if I left the house, he’d call the police and have me arrested, since evidently, he’s already started proceedings to get custody of my son.”

  “I’m aware of that, Ms. Castle. I prepared the papers.”

  She burst out of her chair. “What!”

  “Please sit, Shelby. We’ve not filed anything, but Clayton was correct.” He motioned with his hand for her to take a seat. “If your husband had died when you…well, let’s forget about the last time and stick to the current situation, shall we? It’s possible that the state could have come in and taken custody of the boy. Would you want that?”

  She shook her head. No, of course, she didn’t want that. “There’s not much else to say. But I guess I should tell you that so I could pack and leave the house, I drugged Carlin with Benadryl. Not enough to hurt him, just enough to make him sleep soundly.”

  Mr. Belcher’s face remained impassive. She was certain he’d heard worse. “How much would that be?”

  “Four. He usually takes two when he can’t sleep, so I mixed the powder from four caplets into the milk jug, knowing he always ate a bowl of cereal before going to bed.”

  If she weren’t mistaken, she would have sworn that Clayton actually chuckled, but he covered his mouth with his hand as though he were in shock by her admission. She wondered how her father-in-law could laugh when his son hadn’t even been dead twenty-four hours.

  “After that, I packed everything I could into my car, along with Justin, and I was ready to leave. But Clayton stopped me.”

  She shook her head in disgust. If she’d been able to leave last night, she would have had a money trail with the credit cards she planned to use and would have been in a hotel in Atlanta right now, instead of this hellhole again.

  “And then what happened?” Belcher urged.

  “I went to bed, leaving Carlin on the sofa where he’d passed out. When I woke up this morning, he wasn’t where I left him. So I made a cup of coffee, took the baby monitor with me, and walked to the dock to sit by the lake.”

  She glanced at the table, running her hands over her face as she remembered the scene. She’d been trying to figure out how to get out of this mess when she saw Carlin’s body floating next to the dock. If she’d given him Ambien, she could have assumed he’d sleepwalked, but Benadryl didn’t do that.

  “And…” Mr. Belcher prodded.

  She dropped her head. “That’s it. I looked down and there he was, his skin all pale looking.” She closed her eyes, but then opened them quickly when she realized that’d made it worse. For some reason, she’d burnt that image into her brain.

  “And you didn’t see or talk to Carlin…after you drugged him and left him on the couch?”

  “No, sir. When I went to bed, he was snoring up a storm. He always slept deeply when he took Benadryl, the reason I gave it to him.”

  Mr. Belcher turned to Clayton. “Well, they don’t have much on her other than she’d just been arrested last week. I’ll speak with the State Attorney as soon as he gets in… Find out what the officers had been thinking… Why they’d arrest her without probable cause. He’s not going to have much choice other than to release her.” He jotted a few notes on his pad, then tapped the pen on the table. “Of course, there’ll still be an investigation, and I’m not going to kid you, her drugging him doesn’t look good. But they won’t be able to hold her.”

  Clayton nodded, patting her hand from across the table. “I need to call our doctor. He sedated June, and I need to find out if she’s awake yet. But I’ll stick around in hopes that they’ll release you soon, though.”

  Tears welled up in her eyes. It was obvious that Clayton believed her, but for the life of her, she didn’t know why.

  Especially since she’d told him last night, she’d end up killing Carlin.

  Chapter Nine

  Tom sat outside the jail, waiting fo
r any information on Shelby’s release.

  He had no idea why he felt so drawn to her. Yes, he wanted the case, but not because he wanted the glory of winning a murder case. He wanted to win her, he realized. He wanted to make certain that she didn’t go to prison for a crime she didn’t commit. And he was positive that she was innocent.

  He laughed internally at himself. Admission is the first step. He was besotted with Shelby. Ever since he’d heard her voice and seen her standing in the courtroom, he’d known. He’d told his sister that it was about the case, but it wasn’t; he wanted Shelby. This was something entirely foreign to him.

  Yeah, he’d asked Brandy to marry him, but it was because he was lonely and wanted companionship. The emotions he felt wracking his body and soul now were different. And now that he was able to admit what he was feeling, he realized this was a better turn of events.

  As Shelby’s attorney, he couldn’t get involved with her, but now he was free to find out if there was something there. He’d noticed the way she’d looked at him. She was interested in him as well, he was certain. Of course, he’d have to make sure she really was innocent. He could only imagine what his parents would think if he told them, Hey, I met a great girl. She’s beautiful, smart, has a little boy. And by the way, she may have murdered her husband.

  Tom shook his head at his thoughts and continued to work out of his vehicle while he waited. He answered emails, returned phone calls, drew up some contracts on his laptop that the firm had sent. The mundane tasks kept his fingers busy, but his mind was a hundred miles away.

  What was he thinking waiting outside for a woman who may have killed her husband? His brain continued to battle the sensations his heart felt. It wasn’t as though he couldn’t find a woman; he’d never had a problem meeting women. So why was he so anxious to connect with one who had so many problems? If his friend Cameron were here, he’d be laughing his head off. Tom had chastised Cameron a few months ago about always meeting women with baggage. They were a pair all right.