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~ SAM ~

Even though I knew I hadn’t lost yet, it felt like that. Limbs heavy, heart sore. A cloud over my head.

In the early hours of Saturday morning I’d been stopped by a cop two miles from the house. He had no reason to pull me over, but what was I going to do? Run?

The thing I’d forgotten—completely forgotten—was that the terms of my parole included that I wasn’t supposed to drive between midnight and seven unless it was for work.

The cop gave me a warning, but I knew… I knew even before Bridget texted on the new phone freaking out about Jeremy, saying he was on the warpath, that he’d guessed I was there and he was swearing he was going to arrest me.

I’d spent the two days of the weekend waiting, but it hadn’t come.

I knew, though. Deep down. I’d had Monk and the guys over for an emergency prayer session the day before that ended up turning into pizza and fries. Because I wasn’t sure I was coming home from Court.

I walked into the courtroom Monday morning shaking. Everyone was waiting to hear whether I’d sign the plea agreement. I wasn’t ready to. Not yet .

It was the worst I’d felt since the day we started. Even worse than when that stupid doctor made me sound like an abuser. Because I could feel an ambush coming for me, but had no idea when or where it would happen.

I was lightheaded when I sat down at the table with my lawyers.

There on the table was a large, white envelope. Like a legal one, with my name written on it. I was about to ask Stephen—who looked very grim this morning—what it was, but just then the Bailiff called the room to order, so we all stood for the judge to enter.

And the moment we were seated, the fuckers on the prosecution leaped to their feet, pleading with the judge for a stay to present motions.

“…we have learned about events in the past few days that we believe add up to witness tampering, and the accused may face new charges in a related matter.”

The judge looked sternly at the lawyers. “You’re certain the motions apply to this case?” she asked, her voice resigned.

“Your Honor there are extenuating circumstances in this case, may we approach?”

She looked like a mother who’d lost her patience with her kids, but she gave them permission and beckoned both teams to her desk.

While they were talking, I decided to see what was in the envelope. I had to tear it very quietly because the people in the room were trying to hear what the lawyers were saying to the judge.

But once I pulled the papers out and read them, my pulse thundered in my ears. I had to read it again to be sure…

~

Sam,

A year and a half ago, Special Agent Jeremy Haines was quietly investigated for inappropriate relationship/contact with an informant by the name of Bridget Reynolds aka Thompson, aka Hewson, aka Bree Turner. No formal action was taken by the Bureau. However, he was never cleared and a redacted version of the file is in public records. The original is sealed. The judge could view it.

Use it to help her .

You’re welcome.

~

It was unsigned.

Fury, hot jealousy, fear, and fireworks of hope exploded in my chest. I was barely aware of the courtroom coming back to life, or the lawyers returning to their seats, I was too busy reading the note over and over.

And fighting with the Cain in me that wanted to throw myself across the room and strangle Jeremy until he died.

I startled when Stephen leaned into my ear.

“Sam, there’s—”

“No, Stephen. Look. Look!” I hissed.

My hand shook—which meant the paper fluttered like a leaf as I handed it to him.

Stephen read it. Blinked. Then read it again.

There was something going on behind him, the Prosecutor saying something pompous, but Stephen shot to his feet. “Objection, Your Honor—I mean, excuse me. I mean… Your Honor, this is urgent. I beg you for an additional stay. New information has come to light that is critical in this case—on all levels. But it will require a day or two to pursue.”

“Counsel, we just agreed that we could move ahead—”

“Please… Please, Your Honor. I am not exaggerating the significance of this. It… it touches on misconduct and breach of human rights.”

The judge took a deep, frustrated breath, then shook her head.

“Sounds like we will require another stay. Court is adjourned until Wednesday at 9 a.m. All motions are to be filed by tomorrow at 5 p.m. It is time for us to move ahead, counsel!”

“Yes, Your Honor.”

She banged her gavel and Stephen sat down hard in his seat, then read the note again. Now his hands were shaking.

“Holy shit, Sam.”

I couldn’t quite breathe. Then his head snapped to me and he frowned. “This better not be some fucking trick.”

~ brIDGET ~

I hadn’t heard from Sam since they got out of Court and that was insane. Gerald had recommended that the court environment was too stressful for me, and as a witness I wasn’t required to be there, so now they were keeping me away, which I knew had come from Jeremy and I was fucking pissed about it.

When the back door popped, then creaked, I froze. But seconds later there were a few heavy footsteps, then Sam was standing in the hallway and I was gaping.

Had I lost six hours? Was it night?

A quick glance at the curtains told me, no. It was still sunny outside.

“Sam! How did you—”

“Bridget…” his voice was tight, strangled.

My stomach dropped to my toes. What had happened? Had he had to sign the plea deal? Was Jeremy—

“Bridget,” he croaked. “What happened between you and Jeremy last year? And… why didn’t you ever tell me?”

An ice cube skated down my spine.

Sam’s face hardened and he took two steps closer. “Tell me what the fuck happened.”