Page 44 of Calder Strong (The Calder Brand #5)

J OSEPH SLOWED THE CAR AS THEY APPROACHED THE ROADBLOCK .

McTeer could be waiting for somebody else, and they’d be allowed to pass through.

But Joseph knew better. Instinct and logic told him that the body had been found and the evidence examined.

Anyone could have seen Annabeth leaving town with him, and a call to the hotel would have confirmed that they were on their way back to Blue Moon.

“It’s me they want, Joseph.” Annabeth’s voice was icy calm. “Don’t take any action to stop them. I’ll need you free and safe to look after the children. Promise me.” She gripped his arm hard. “ Promise me! ”

“All right, I promise. But don’t tell the sheriff anything. You’ll have the right to remain silent and to have your lawyer present for questioning. I’ll call Ezra as soon as I can get to a telephone.”

“I’ll be fine. Just make sure the children are all right. And don’t worry them. Just tell them I’ll be back soon.” Annabeth’s voice was calm, but Joseph could read the terror in her eyes as they pulled up to the roadblock and stopped.

“I love you, Annabeth,” he said. “We’ll get through this.”

“Yes, we will,” she said as McTeer walked up to the car. “One way or another.”

McTeer, with the face and manner of a schoolyard bully, tapped on the driver’s side glass. Joseph rolled down the window, which he’d raised protectively as they approached the roadblock.

“Is there a problem, Sheriff?” he asked.

“You’re damn right there is, Dollarhide. You and the lady, get out of the car.”

“The lady happens to be my wife. And if you lay a hand on her, you’ll pay for it.”

“Your wife?” McTeer sneered. “Now, isn’t that a pretty picture. You’ll be interested in knowing that a neighbor found her husband’s body on the kitchen floor with a knife in his belly. Lucky thing we stopped you, mister. You could’ve been next.”

With the armed deputies looking on, McTeer walked around the car to Annabeth’s side and opened her door. She stepped down, head high, like a queen. Her expression betrayed nothing.

McTeer produced a set of steel cuffs, pulled her hands behind her back, and snapped them on her wrists. Joseph battled the urge to bloody the pompous little man’s face. That would buy them nothing.

“Where are you taking my wife?” he demanded.

“To jail. She’ll be locked up like any other criminal.”

“Damn it, Sheriff, she’s not a criminal. And you can’t shut a woman in a cell in full view of the men. Let me take her home to her children. There’s no chance she’ll run. She would have turned herself in today if you’d given her the chance.”

“That’s not my problem, Dollarhide. Do what you have to. Your wife’s going to jail.”

Joseph might have said more, but he caught the pleading look in Annabeth’s eyes. Let it be , her gaze told him. There were other ways to fight. And the children would need him.

Sick with helpless rage, he watched as she was shoved into the back of the sheriff’s car and driven away. Then, as the roadblock broke up, he started his car. The tires spat gravel as he headed for the Hunter Ranch to find his children and telephone his lawyer.

Dirty army surplus blankets had been hung from the top of the bars to separate Annabeth’s cell from the three next to it.

At least for now, the cells were empty. But that could change at any time.

The only furnishings in the small space were a bunk with a thin, stained mattress, a jug of water, and a bucket in one corner that she had yet to use.

The place smelled of urine, bleach, and other things she didn’t want to imagine.

She had tried to put on a brave face while she was with Joseph. Now the mask crumbled away. Perched on the edge of the bunk, she buried her face in her hands. Her shoulders shook with dry sobs.

“Ma’am, you’ve got a visitor.” At least the young deputy on duty was polite. Annabeth arranged her features in the semblance of a smile as the blanket was pulled away from the front of the cell. The door was opened to admit her lawyer.

Joseph had told her about him over dinner the night before. Ezra Dillenbeck was a bespectacled scarecrow of a man, dressed in a brown business suit with a plaid tie. Nearing seventy-five, he had served three generations of Dollarhides. He knew the family, and he knew the law.

He glanced around the cell as the door closed behind him. “Good God, how can they keep a decent woman in here?”

“I’m just hoping it won’t be forever.” Annabeth rose to greet him. “Thank you for coming, Mr. Dillenbeck.”

“You can call me Ezra,” he said. “I’ll have you out of here as soon as I can, but it’ll take a judge’s order to set your bail. I’m afraid that might take a day or two.”

“Do what you need to. It’s my children I’m concerned about. Are they all right?”

“They’re fine. For now, they’re safe at the Hunter Ranch while Joseph takes care of business.”

“And the adoption? Will Joseph be able to take them?”

“Since he’s your husband and he can prove that he’s the boy’s natural father, that shouldn’t be a problem. But for the formal adoption, the paperwork has to be signed off by a judge. We’re working on that. But that’s not why I’m here now.”

The lawyer shifted his position on the bunk to face her.

“Joseph told me everything he knows about your late husband’s death.

I’d say it looks like a clear case of self-defense.

But the sheriff has other ideas. The fact that you married another man before Mr. Mosby was even cold in his grave casts you in an unfavorable light. ”

Fear tightened its noose. “We only did it for the children—to make sure Joseph could adopt them. Are you saying that Joseph could be implicated?”

“Not for the physical crime. He can prove that he was at home. But your motive might be called into question. The prosecution could claim you murdered your husband so you could be free to marry your lover.”

A chill passed through Annabeth’s body.

“Forgive me for asking a personal question,” Ezra said. “I need to know. Your marriage to Joseph—was it consummated?”

Heat flooded Annabeth’s face. She nodded.

“And before?”

“No. There was nothing. Except, of course, when we were teenagers. Can they really ask me that in court?”

“The prosecution can ask you anything that proves relevant to the case. McTeer is pushing for a speedy trial. He’ll be up for reelection this fall. He’s not the prosecutor, of course, but a conviction in a sensational case like yours would be a feather in his cap.”

Sensational . Annabeth thought of the press, the papers. What kind of monster would they make of her?

“But I never meant to kill Silas!” she insisted.

“He would have beaten Lucas to death. That was why I threatened him with the knife. But he was out of control, like a wild animal. When he stumbled into the blade, it wounded him, but he was still strong enough, and mad enough, to kill us both. I stopped him the only way I could.”

Annabeth could have claimed that the knife had gone in all the way when Silas stumbled. That might have been ruled an accident. But she knew the truth. And so did Lucas.

“Look at me,” she said. “Look at the bruises on my face. The doc tor can testify that my shoulder was dislocated. And she treated the bleeding welts on Lucas’s back. She even took pictures with her camera.”

“Yes, the doctor—a close member of your new husband’s family. That could cast her testimony into question. Bruises can heal. And the film for those pictures would have to be sent off to be developed. That could take weeks. The trial will most likely happen sooner.”

He studied her through his thick spectacles, his hazel eyes direct and penetrating. “But you have a witness,” he said. “An unimpeachable eyewitness who saw everything. His testimony could make all the difference.”

“No!” She recoiled from him. “I won’t allow Lucas to testify. Having to relive that time, with the questioning and the attention, and all those eyes watching. It would be torture for him! I won’t put him through that. There has to be another way.”

The lawyer stood, preparing to leave. “I’ll see what I can do,” he said. “But you’ll want to think hard about the situation you’re in and what your options are. If you change your mind, let me know. I’ll be in touch.”

“I won’t change my mind,” Annabeth said. “But thank you for your help. Tell Joseph I’m all right.”

“I’ll do that,” he said, turning to go. “He’ll be fighting for you. So will I.”

The next day, after being charged with second degree murder and denied bail, Annabeth was transferred to the jail in Miles City. She had better quarters in a section reserved for women prisoners. But being farther away from Joseph and her children was distressful for her.

Joseph had been allowed a ten-minute visit with her. They’d held hands through the bars, talked about the children, and murmured reassurances that everything was going to be all right. But Joseph had walked out of the jail with rage and frustration eating a hole in his gut.

He’d goaded Ezra into pushing harder for her release.

He’d also talked to anyone who might be able to help, including the Miles City sheriff.

None of his efforts had made any difference.

The judge had ruled against bail. Another trial had been cancelled.

Annabeth’s trial had been moved to that date with the same jury—just four days from now.

By the time he’d driven back to the Hunter Ranch, night had fallen.

Annabeth’s children were staying with Joseph’s Aunt Britta and her husband, former sheriff Jake Calhoun.

They had supper waiting for him, warm from the oven.

At his aunt’s insistence, Joseph forced himself to eat the tasty meatloaf and fried potatoes Britta had prepared.

“You need to keep your strength up, Joseph,” she chided him. “Starving yourself isn’t going to help anybody.”