Unable to Resist (15 page)

“Ann, this is Joseph Hilson. He’s the new lead investigator for your father’s case.”

Ann’s trembling hand meets Joseph’s.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Hilson,” Ann says sweetly, confident.

“Oh honey, please call me Joey.” The sixty-year-old, balding man blushes and hoots. His laugh rumbles from his Santa-like belly and it seems to calm Ann down a bit.

A smile appears on her gorgeous face and she nods. “Alright, Joey.” She turns to Jason. “This is my best friend Jason.”

Joey smiles at Jason and shakes his hand. “Good to meet you, son.”

Jason nods. “Likewise, sir.”

Joey claps his chunky hands together and ushers us to his office. Once we sit in the three chairs in front of his little desk he takes out a folder and hands it to me. It contains pictures of Ann’s dad. I quickly shuffle past them and utter thanks.

“So, Ann,” Joey starts, “Duane here told you why you’re here?”

Ann tucks a piece of hair behind her ear, the same strand I keep messing with, and she looks to me. When I meet her eyes, she nods and looks back to Joey.

“Yes, he told me someone wants to talk to me.” Lips quivering, her voice breaks. She brings her hand to her mouth.

Jason puts his hand on her back and rubs, making me wish I could swat his hand away and do it myself.

“Did he kill my father, Joey?” She asks, bluntly.

Joey’s brows crinkle and he hands Ann a tissue. “I’m sorry, honey. He hasn’t talked. We can’t get anything out of him.” He breathes in. “That’s why you’re here.”

His grandfather-like quality is a nice change, and I’m happy he took over the case. There’s been some serious speculation about the Conrad Daniels case, and I have a nagging feeling the previous investigator had a hand in shoving things under the rug.

“Okay, let’s get this over with.” Ann dabs her eyes. She squares her shoulders, wipes her face and transforms into the strong woman I’ve seen many times over the past few days.

My pride beams as she stands up and adjusts her shirt, making a show of her coolness. I let her out the door after Joey steps out and we follow him to the back where they hold suspects.

Joey turns to us. “I’m sorry, Jason, but you have to stay out here with me.” He then turns to Ann. “Duane can go in with you, if you feel comfortable. If not, you can go in alone. We’ll be right behind the glass.”

Ann looks at me. I smile encouragement at her.

“I want him to go with me.”

I breathe a sigh of relief and put my hand on the small of her back. When I open the door I see Brenton Hall sitting behind the long desk.

He’s dressed in a black hoodie that’s pulled over his head, black jeans and black boots. He personifies trouble and I step in front of Ann to somehow block her from his menacing stare.

His face breaks out into a snarl the moment he sees Ann. The instant anger I feel toward the man nearly forces me to climb over the table and beat him to death. I’ve never felt such an overwhelming sensation of protectiveness. It’s like a button in my brain snapped and I want to take all of the hurt this man might spew at her.

Not prudent to the situation, Rynard.

I guide her to the chair sitting opposite Brenton. Her face shows no emotion, which I’m sure is her way of coping. She stares at him, saying nothing. They openly study each other. A few minutes pass and I get tired of waiting for the prick to speak up.

“Well, she’s here. What do you have to say to her?”

Brenton’s eyes twitch and he flicks his gaze toward me. “Who are you? You don’t need to be here.”

His question pisses me off more than it should but I need to get into lawyer-mode. My instincts kick in and I’m all business.

“I’m her lawyer and I do need to be here. Say what you need to say.”

He scratches the side of his ear and smiles a smile that chills me to the bone. In all of my years, I’ve never seen someone so—utterly lost. His eyes, empty. His expression, hateful.

“I wasn’t planning for an audience, but whatever. Do you remember me, Ann?”

She looks at him and scrutinizes his features, not finding any redeeming quality. She shakes her head. “No, I’m sorry, I don’t.”

He laughs a sadistic melody. “I figured as much. We went to school together. My mom Emmy used to watch you when we were kids. We’d catch frogs together down by the lake at your house.”

Brenton removes his hoodie and Ann gasps. Her eyes begin to water, and she shakes her head again.

Brenton’s hands are on the table, casually crossed, and Ann slides her hands toward him. “Brent?”

I’m floored. What the hell is happening? One minute I’m contemplating killing him, and the next Ann is taking hold of his hand like he’s some long lost friend.

“Ann?” I interrupt.

Seriously, what the fuck is going on?

She smiles at me. This time, it’s a joyful one. I’m still thoroughly confused, but she turns back to Brenton.

“You look different,” she states. “You don’t even look like you.”

His manic features disappear and he slouches in his chair. “Plastic surgery will do that to you. But you do remember me?” He confirms again.

Ann pulls her hands back to her lap and nods.

“Of course I do. How could I not? You look different though. I would have never recognized you. And you changed your last name? I’m so confused. How did this happen? Why are you even here? Did you kill my dad?”

The questions roll out of her mouth quickly and Brent’s eyes bulge. He can’t seriously be offended. He brought her here—to a police station.

Well, buddy, what did you expect?

His gaze travels back to me. In a matter of a few minutes, he’s gone from looking like a cracked psychopath to looking like a lost little boy. I’ve never seen anything like this before.

With pleading eyes, Brenton looks to Ann, pointing his finger at me. “Can you trust him?”

Without reluctance, Ann affirms, “Very much so. Without a doubt. Why?” She rubs her head. “God, Brent, what the hell is going on?”

That’s what I’d like to know.

“Can they hear us?” Brenton switches his questioning to me, looking straight at the two-way mirror.

“Yeah, they can, man. Just say what you need to say,” I respond.

Brenton rakes a shaky hand through his long greasy hair and sucks in a breath.

“Look, it’s complicated. We can’t talk here. They don’t have anything on me, Ann, but I couldn’t get ahold of you, so this was the only way…” He trails off.

“The only way for what?” I ask. Has this fucker never heard of the Internet? I’m starting to get pissed because he isn’t telling us, her in particular, anything. We’ve wasted time, basically.

He laughs, leaning back in his chair. “To figure out who killed her dad. Jesus Christ, we have to find a way to prove
he
did it.”

Ann’s eyebrows shoot up. “Who are you talking about?”

That sick, menacing look returns. “Allan Fairfield.”

Ann face falls, shocked. She grabs at her shirt, catching her breath.

“Why would your dad want kill my dad?”

My head whips toward Ann. His dad? This just got all kinds of complicated. It’s time to step in and reel the situation back. It’s out of control, and I don’t like not having control.

“They haven’t charged you with anything?” I question, not really sure what hell is going on.

“No, I just came down here trying to find Ann. They said I looked suspicious, so they kept me for questioning. A lot of good that did them.” He pulls at the loose thread on his hoodie. “But Ann, I need you to help me. You’re the only one who can.”

The last thing I want Ann to do is make a rash decision. I grab her hands, and spin her around to face me.

“You do not have to do this. We can go home and this can all be over. Brenton here says he knows who killed your dad. The cops can do the rest. You can step back and let them figure it out.”

She’s already shaking her head. “No, I have to do this. I can feel it. The cops are missing something.”

I knew she wouldn’t let this go. Not that I blame her. She’s a fighter and I know she feels the need to figure out whoever ruined her life.

I’m not one to tell a woman what to do, so I nod and face Brenton.

“Fine, figure out a way to get out of here. It shouldn’t be too hard considering they just brought you in for questioning.” I dig for my wallet and hand him my card. “Call me when you are ready to talk. We’ll be here for a few days.”

Brenton looks sullen, but agrees.

Ann and I get up to exit the door when Brenton stops us. “Hey, Ann. A couple days after your dad died, I heard Mom and Dad fighting. I didn’t know what it was about but I heard him screaming about the question marks. I don’t know what that means, but maybe you do.” He looks at a police officer that comes into the room. “I’ll see you soon.”

With that, I escort Ann out of the room, and head for Joey’s office. Joey and Jason meet us in the hallway and Ann runs into Jason’s waiting arms. They embrace, and Jason kisses Ann on the head.

Joey approaches me with a surly expression. “We can’t hold him any longer. We’ll out-process him, and he’ll be out of here in a couple hours.”

I nod as Ann and Jason walk up to us.

I can’t hold out any longer, I grab Ann’s hand.

Eyeing our hands, I decide right then and there I need to figure my shit out so I can find a way to make this work with her. I don’t want to play by the rules anymore; I can’t. It’s moments like these when I really have to step back and take a breath. Ann is important. Having her in my life is imperative to my happiness—to her happiness. It’s so easy—us. We make sense, it’s time I figure out how to get around the judgment of my job and find a way to make her mine.

“So, what happens now?” Ann prompts.

Joey cracks his knuckles and shakes his head. “Brenton doesn’t seem right in the head. We’ll take what he says with a grain of salt.”

I’d probably think the same thing if I hadn’t seen his face change so quickly when he realized Ann knew him. There’s a deeper story here. I just don’t know how deep.

We give our thanks to Joey and head to Jason’s car. The sky has turned from bright orange to dark purple. The darkness is a reminder of the tiring day I’ve had, and the weight from all this nonstop is beginning to take its toll on me.

Jason pulls the car out of the parking lot, and drives back to the airport. I’ve yet to get my rental car.

None of us say anything for a long while. I think we’re all still processing. Their questions, I’m sure, far outweigh my own.

Thankfully for me, Jason speaks up with questions of his own. “Who the hell is Brenton Hall?”

Ann laughs from the back seat. Only, it’s not her sweet laugh, it’s a laugh that I can only describe as agitated. “He’s Allan Fairfield’s son.”

Jason unintentionally swerves the car, and Ann yelps in surprise. “Jason!”

“Sorry.” Jason straightens out the car and mutters curse words under his breath.

Ann unbuckles and moves to the middle seat. Clicking the seatbelt, she rubs her hands over her face and makes a frustrated sound.

“Why the hell did he change his name?” Jason questions. “And he sure as shit doesn’t look like the guy we used to know.” I didn’t realize Jason was watching us behind the two-way mirror. “What the hell happened to his face? Holy fuck, Ann, where has he been?”

I turn to look at Ann, confused.

She looks up at me, sullen. “He was born with a deformity, you could say.” She shutters. “It was awful, Duane. Kids were relentless in their taunting.”

“And you were his friend?” I affirm.

Ann’s eyes dart to Jason. “Yeah, Jason and I were his only friends all through middle school. Then he just up and left.”

Even in this horrible situation, Ann shows just how amazing she is. She befriended that poor boy. Now, when I look at Jason, I have a bit more respect for him. You can’t get any better than two people who’ll put others before themselves.

“So, he left?” I inquire.

She bobs her head. “Yeah, one day he was there, then the next he wasn’t. It was odd. We called, but never got any answers.” She rubs her temples. “Holy shit, I’m so confused. I feel discombobulated.”

“That makes two of us,” Jason agrees.

“Make that three,” I add. “You’d never know he had surgery done on his face.” I mean it. There isn’t a scar to be seen.

Ann sadly laughs from the backseat. “Yeah, well the precious Fairfields are loaded. I mean, like crazy rich. I’m sure they can afford the best. What I can’t figure out is why he just disappeared for the last fifteen years.”

“Yeah,” Jason agrees and he looks at me. “Everyone thought he died, man. He missed school for a few days, so Ann and I decided to go see him at his house, but his parents acted like they didn’t know who he was.”

I look back at Ann. She’s biting her nail and nodding along with his story.

When we pull up to the rental car place, it’s pitch black inside, no signs of life.

“Well, shit,” Jason says. “Sorry man, we should have got your car beforehand.”