Chapter Eight
“That’s me.” Brooke pointed at the apartment complex up ahead. “I really appreciate the ride. You can let me out here.” She practically hugged the door in her hurry to exit. The ride should’ve been a pleasant opportunity to get to know Reggie better, but she’d been too preoccupied with worry that the man from the garage or one of his cohorts would see her doing exactly what she’d been told not to do and take action.
“Are you sure? I can get you closer if you want.”
She did want and bailing out of the car a block away seemed rude, like she was trying to hide where she lived from Reggie. And now that she thought about it, she’d been given mixed messages by the mystery man. First, she wasn’t supposed to hang out with the other jurors and then she’d been told to sway them to a particular verdict and start laying the groundwork to make that happen. If she was confronted about what she was doing with Reggie, she could simply point out the inconsistency in her assigned mission. She pointed to the turn ahead. “You can pull in there and take the next left.”
Reggie followed her instructions and parked in the space reserved for her car. Brooke took her time gathering her things which included the textbooks she usually hauled around with her. “I appreciate the ride. What do you have planned tonight?” She hadn’t planned to ask that question, but now that she had, she desperately wanted to know.
“Nothing exciting. I have studying to do.”
“You’re in school?”
“Kind of. I’m studying for my private investigator licensing exam. It’s coming up soon and I’m not nearly ready.”
Brooke held up her marketing text. “Midterm next week. Not ready. At all.”
An awkward pause followed, and Brooke’s brain filled it with a repeating idea. Ask her to stay. Ask her to stay. Ask her to stay. Finally, she blurted out, “Do you want to stay for dinner? We could study after. It won’t be anything fancy, but—”
“I’d love to.” Reggie reached into the back seat and grabbed a bag. “I’m sick to death of takeout and I could use a different set of walls to stare at when I’m trying to come up with the answers to all the tricky test questions.”
Brooke smiled, partly because she was happy Reggie was staying and partly to mask her anxiety. The morning had been such a blur because she’d overslept, she wasn’t sure the house was presentable or that she even had any food in the fridge, but it was too late now. Reggie was already out of the car and waiting, so she hefted her books and climbed out.
They were almost to the door when she heard a voice call out her name and she turned to see Mr. Peterson walking toward her with an envelope in his hand. She plastered a smile on her face and prayed he wasn’t holding an eviction notice. “Hi, Mr. Peterson.”
He took a moment to look Reggie up and down before acknowledging her greeting. “Hi. This came for you.” He handed over the envelope. “It was delivered to the main office. I don’t have time to deliver stuff, so tell whoever sent it to use the mail like regular folks.” He cleared his throat and shot another look at Reggie. “And I need you to come by and see me tomorrow about that other thing.”
“You bet. Happy to do it.” She knew her voice was overly enthusiastic and pitched a bit too high, but she was relieved he’d chosen not to bring up the past due rent and too busy willing him to leave to care that she sounded crazy. “See you tomorrow.” She waved to punctuate his exit before quickly opening the front door and motioning for Reggie to follow her in.
“Who was that guy?” Reggie asked.
“Landlord. He’s a little intense.”
“You can say that again.”
Brooke shrugged. “The bane of living in an apartment, I guess.” She led the way to the kitchen and set her books on the small table in the breakfast nook. “If you want, you can go ahead and get started studying while I sort out dinner.”
Reggie set her bag down, but instead of sitting, she joined her in the kitchen. “How about I help sort out dinner and then we can both study.”
Brooke’s breathing quickened at Reggie’s closeness and her thoughts turned from what to cook to how to cool the heat between them. Dinner and studying—that was the focus and anything else was completely off the table. She opened the refrigerator and stuck her head inside. “I confess I haven’t been to the store this week. I can make omelets or turkey sandwiches, and that’s about it.”
“I like omelets and turkey sandwiches,” Reggie said, managing to make both options sound like something way more exciting than a meal. “What does your son like?”
“Ben would eat pizza for dinner every night of the week if he could, but given a choice between these two options, he’s more of a sandwich guy.”
“Then sandwiches it is.” Reggie looked around. “Where do you keep the bread?”
Brooke pointed to the pantry across the room, both grateful and sad to send Reggie out of her orbit for a moment so she could compose herself. In the meantime, she pulled condiments, the packet of sliced turkey, and the provolone cheese that Ben liked out of the fridge and set them on the counter. When Reggie returned with the bread, she handed her plates and asked her to set the table.
She’d just started arranging the fixings on a platter when Reggie held up the envelope Peterson had brought over. “This fell on the floor,” she said. “Where would you like me to put it?”
She’d been so preoccupied with Reggie’s presence, she hadn’t paid attention to the fact this envelope looked exactly like the others that had shown up, each carrying threats about the pending trial. Without thinking, she snatched the envelope from Reggie’s hand and gripped it tightly. She wanted to rip it open and confront whatever was inside, but she also wanted to burn it and forget it had ever existed. She looked up to see Reggie staring at her with a worried expression.
“Something’s wrong.”
“No, everything’s fine.”
“Are you expecting bad news?”
Brooke shook her head afraid if she spoke out loud she wouldn’t be able to keep her secret any longer, but Reggie was not to be deterred.
“Wait a minute. You mentioned something about envelopes before. Didn’t you accuse me of putting an envelope in your purse? Is someone harassing you? Is it that guy I saw you talking to in the parking garage yesterday?”
Brooke felt the tears start to form and she swiped at her eyes with her hand, determined she wasn’t going to cry in front of Reggie who would no doubt think she’d lost her mind. As if it could hear her plea, the universe interrupted with a rousing version of “The Imperial March.”
“What’s that?” Reggie asked.
Brooke took a deep breath and prayed for composure. “It’s my son.” She reached for her phone relieved for the interruption. “Hey, kid, where are you?”
“Mom, don’t freak out, but I’m at the hospital.”
* * *
Reggie steered the Jeep into the parking lot at Baylor, hopped out, and snatched the ticket from the valet’s hand. Brooke was already running through the hospital doors.
Brooke had barely spoken on their way here, but Reggie had managed to find out Ben had been in a car accident and he’d hit his head on the passenger side door. The officer on scene had called an ambulance and both Ben and the driver had been brought here to be checked out.
She caught up with Brooke at the reception desk in the ER where she was having an animated discussion with the nurse on duty.
“He just called from here so no, he hasn’t been released. Besides, he’s a minor, so you need my permission for any treatment—that should be a good enough reason to tell me where he is. Right. Freaking. Now.”
Reggie touched her elbow and Brooke whirled around, fists clenched and ready to fight. Reggie raised her hands in surrender. “Hey, hey, not looking for a fight.” She pointed at her chest. “Support only.” She looked over Brooke’s head at the nurse. “Seriously, don’t keep her waiting. Her kid just called and said he was here waiting on her. His name is Ben Dawson, and he was in a car accident.”
The nurse sighed and typed a few keystrokes into her computer. “Sorry about that,” she said. “He wasn’t released, but he was taken for an X-ray. He should be back down here by now.” She pointed to a set of doors to her right. “Go on back and look for room number three.”
Brooke shot through the doors and Reggie jogged to catch up. When they reached the room, she saw a lanky kid sitting on the edge of the bed talking to a nurse. Brooke was instantly at his side, gently hugging him, and asking if he was okay. Repeatedly. He insisted he was before launching into a colorful description of the entire incident.
“We were driving down the street and Mia was going the exact speed limit when out of nowhere, this pickup shoots out from another street, blowing through the stop sign, and plows into us.”
Reggie watched Brooke stiffen at the description of what must’ve been a harrowing experience no matter how cool Ben was trying to play it off and she instinctively reached for Brooke’s arm again. This time Brooke didn’t shake her away, instead she leaned in.
“Who’s this?” Ben asked, pointing at her, his tone more curious than accusatory.
“I’m a friend of your mom’s,” Reggie spoke first to save Brooke from having to explain why some stranger had showed up at his bedside. “We’re serving on a jury together and I was with her when she got the call about your wreck. Is your friend okay?”
“Mia? She’s good. The airbag scraped her up a little and her car is pretty messed up, but that’s about it.” He stuck out his hand. “Ben Dawson. Nice to meet you.” He didn’t wait for a response before looking over at the nurse. “Can we go now?”
“The doctor has to sign off, but you should be good to go soon.” The nurse made a few notes in her tablet and turned to Brooke. “He hit his head, so the doctor’s going to want you to keep a close eye on him tonight to make sure he doesn’t have a concussion. He had a minor cut that’s been cleaned and bandaged, but otherwise he appears to be okay. He will likely be sore tomorrow. If you have any concerns, you can call or bring him back in. Dr. Murphy should be in soon to give you any additional instructions and sign his release.”
“Where’s Mia?” Brooke asked. “Is she still here?”
“She’s in the room next door. Also fine considering. The paramedics said it was quite an impact.”
“Do you know if the other driver was hurt?” Reggie asked.
“He took off,” Ben said. “Backed up, spun out, and blew down the street like he was being chased by aliens. White, Ford F150, running boards and a charcoal gray bed cover. Texas plates, but I only saw the last three numbers, four six seven.”
“That’s pretty amazing, Ben.”
“I have a head for numbers. I’m a mathlete. If you want, you can come to practice sometime and watch Mia and I compete.”
Reggie couldn’t help but grin at the kid’s enthusiasm in the wake of what could’ve been a disaster, but her mood sombered when she looked over at Brooke and saw tears streaming down her face.
“I’m okay, Mom,” Ben said. “Don’t cry. Just be glad I wasn’t driving, or Seth would be a goner.”
His statement elicited a new, louder round of tears, and Reggie raised her eyebrows at Ben. “Was there someone else in the car with you?”
“Seth is our car. He’s ancient and probably wouldn’t survive a wreck.”
“Ah, yes, I’ve met Seth.” Reggie nodded, remembering the unusual moniker for Brooke’s car. “He’s a bit under the weather right now. I brought your mom here and I’ll take you both home.”
Ben jumped down from the bed. “Cool. What do you drive?”
The doctor entered the room before Reggie could answer and she stood off to the side while he gave Ben a final examination and provided cursory instructions to follow up on the ones the nurse had already delivered. He answered Brooke’s litany of questions and told them they were free to go.
Reggie pulled the Jeep around and picked Brooke and Ben up at the curb. Brooke’s tears had dried, but she wasn’t saying much. Reggie wanted to comfort her, but she suspected whatever Brooke was feeling ran deeper than the knowledge her son had been involved in a wreck. She resolved to find out more, but in the meantime, she’d do what she could to relieve some of her stress starting with dinner plans. “I vote we have pizza for dinner. Does that sound good to you two?”
Ben bounced on the back seat at the mention of his favorite meal and Brooke mouthed “thank you.” Reggie put the car in park and used the app on her phone to order a couple of pizzas from iFratelli’s and headed there to pick them up on the way back to Brooke’s. Once they were there, she took the keys Brooke handed her, and led her and Ben into the house. She sent Ben to his room to wash up and change, planted Brooke in the recliner in the living room, and went to the kitchen to put away all signs of the dinner they’d been about to prepare when they had gotten the call from the hospital. When she was done, she spotted the envelope Brooke’s landlord had delivered earlier. She tucked it into one of the cabinets and made a mental note to bring it up after Ben had gone to bed.
She and Ben devoured the pizza while Brooke merely nibbled at the edges. After dinner Ben read aloud the doctor’s orders and sent himself to bed, making Reggie promise she’d administer the hourly checks to make sure his eyes weren’t dilated. She shot a look at Brooke but didn’t get a signal either way about her feelings on the matter, so she agreed. It meant she’d have to spend the night, but that recliner looked pretty comfortable, and besides, Ben and Brooke would need rides in the morning since Seth the Subaru was out of commission.
Reggie shooed Brooke back to the living room, and then put the dishes in the dishwasher and stowed the leftover pizza in the oven. She retrieved the envelope from the cabinet and joined Brooke who was staring at the blank screen on the TV.
“I’m sorry I’ve checked out on you,” Brooke said. “This day has been really extra.”
“It has, but don’t worry about me. I’m just glad Ben is okay.”
“For now.”
Reggie wasn’t sure how to react to the ominous statement, but she had a hunch. “Brooke, I get the feeling you think Ben and Mia’s car wreck wasn’t an accident.”
“It wasn’t.”
“And you know that because?”
Brooke turned to face her, her eyes red and swollen. “I just know.”
Reggie held up the envelope. “Does it have something to do with this?”
Brooke’s features froze. “Yes.”
“You haven’t even opened it.”
“I don’t need to.” Brooke jabbed a finger at it. “You do it. Please.”
Reggie hesitated, taking a minute to study Brooke’s face until she came to a decision. This wasn’t a trap. Brooke needed her to take this step on her behalf and it was the least she could do. She gently edged the envelope open and eased out the card inside. Colorful block letters that looked like they’d been cut from a magazine spelled out the message:
You were warned. Don’t disobey again.
She picked up the envelope again and stared inside. There was nothing else there. She studied the card, front and back. The message was straightforward, but it didn’t mean anything without context. Warned about what?
“Do you want to see it?” she asked Brooke.
“Let me guess. It says something about me breaking the rules, not doing what I’ve been told. There will be consequences.”
“Pretty much. I’m thinking this is not the first message like this you’ve received.”
“It’s not.” Brooke leaned forward, reaching for the note and Reggie handed it to her. Brooke read it several times before setting it on the coffee table. “Before you ask, I don’t know who’s sending these. It’s probably the man who you saw me talking to in the parking garage, but his face was hidden, so I wouldn’t be able to ID him.”
“Do you know what it means?”
“Yes. It’s about the jury. I’m supposed to sway the jury to find Shirley Mitchell not guilty and if I don’t, whoever sent this message is going to kill Ben.”