Chapter 34
Jack sat across from David Peterson in the interview room, having to remind himself to unclench his fists.
Mark was beside him, notepad out, recorder running.
But all Jack could think about was Rachel's pale and terrified face as David had pulled her in front of him like a coward’s shield.
Her scream had cut through him like a knife.
If I'd been thirty seconds later. If Rachel hadn't fought back. If she hadn't kept him talking long enough for me to get there—
Jack twisted his head, hearing his neck crack. He forced himself to focus. He had a job to do.
David sat slumped in his chair, wrists cuffed to the table, his eyes red-rimmed and unfocused. The alcohol was wearing off now, leaving him hollow and defeated.
“Let's start at the beginning,” Jack said, his voice flat and professional even though every instinct in him wanted to reach across the table and land his fist in David’s face. “Where did you first start using and dealing in steroids?”
David's throat worked as he swallowed. “Richmond.” David sighed heavily. “I went to high school there. Lucky me… my fucking dad was the wrestling coach.”
“Tell me about your father,” Mark said as Jack watched David's face carefully.
David's expression twisted with something ugly…
maybe resentment, anger, or old wounds that had never healed.
“He never allowed anything but a winner. If I lost, I sat on the porch. Not allowed to come into the house until he thought I'd mentally overcome the loss. Didn’t matter how cold it was outside… my ass was on the porch. All night.”
Jack felt his stomach turn, and for the first time, he felt a twinge of sorrow for the man sitting across from him. A father who made love conditional on performance. A kid who learned that winning was the only thing that mattered, that losing meant rejection and shame.
“God, he was such a prick,” David muttered, almost to himself.
“You were a good wrestler,” Jack prompted.
“Yeah… I was good.” David's voice strengthened slightly, pride breaking through the despair. “Made state champion in my division. Got a scholarship to the University of Maryland.”
“So you left home?”
David scoffed. “My old man wanted me to go to VCU so I'd be close, and he could control me. But I wanted out of the fucking house. So I went to Maryland.”
“And at college, the competition was harder,” Mark said.
“Yeah.” David rubbed his face with his cuffed hands. “And drugs were plenty. Someone brought pills to practice one day. Said it was easy. It didn’t take long for my body to change, and I was stronger. But I was careful and never overused them.”
Jack made a note, his pen pressing hard enough to nearly tear the paper. David was talking about illegal steroid use like it was nothing. Like it was just another training technique.
“You wanted to coach at the college level,” Jack said. It wasn't a question.
“Yeah. But I knew I needed to start with high school to build up my credentials. Build up my wins.” David looked up at Jack, his expression almost pleading.
“I came here, and it was perfect. Still had contacts in Baltimore. I knew I could get what the boys needed. Not for everyone. Just those who would get better, get stronger. It wouldn’t hurt them. ”
“But it did hurt them,” Jack said coldly. “Terrance is in the hospital.”
David said quickly, defensively. “I never wanted that. I love those guys… the team. I just wanted them to have their own success. Their own scholarships. Their own future.”
“So how did Cheryl become involved?” Jack asked.
David's shoulders sagged. “We went out a few times. She was kind of up for anything. Then I discovered she'd taken some money from her job when she needed it.”
“From Martin? The fitness center?”
“Yeah. So I got her to help me… for my silence. Like I said, she was up for anything. I told her she could be the person the pills came to, and she would hide them in one of the containers of protein powder at the gym.” David's voice was flat now, mechanical, like he was reciting facts that didn't matter anymore.
“She owed me, and she liked the extra cash.”
“And you had your Baltimore contact,” Mark interjected. “The Baltimore DEA and BPD now have him in custody.”
David nodded miserably. “It’s stupid that steroids are illegal. The meds are safe. I've used them. I know what they do.”
“You didn't know,” Jack said, his voice hard, “and didn't care that Terrance had an undiagnosed heart condition that caused the reaction.”
David's head snapped up, his face going pale. “What?”
“Terrance Bogdin has a congenital heart defect,” Jack said, each word deliberate and cutting. “The steroids you gave him put additional strain on his heart. He collapsed because his body couldn't handle what you were pumping into it. He could have died, David. And it would have been your fault.”
“It's not my fault,” David said, his voice rising with desperation. “I didn't know about his heart. How could I know? It's not—”
“It's absolutely your fault.” Jack interrupted, his control finally slipping.
“You gave illegal drugs to minors. You manipulated kids who trusted you. You put their health at risk for your own ambition. And when it all started falling apart, you went after an innocent woman and tried to kidnap her.”
David slumped in his chair, the fight draining out of him completely. “I just wanted to coach at the college level. I just wanted to be successful.”
Jack stared at him, disgust churning in his stomach. This man had hurt kids. Had put Rachel in danger. Had been willing to destroy lives in pursuit of his own pathetic dreams of glory.
“We're done here.” Jack stood abruptly. “You'll be charged with distribution of controlled substances to minors, assault, attempted kidnapping, and any other charges the DA decides to add. Enjoy your time in prison, David. I hope it was worth it.”
Jack and Mark left the interview room and walked back to the detective bullpen. Around them, other detectives were waiting to see the wrap-up of his case and to offer support. Several of them called out congratulations as Jack passed.
“Hell of a collar, Hudson.”
“Nice work on that case.”
“Good job, guys.”
Jack nodded his thanks, but the words barely registered.
All he could think about was how close he'd come to losing Rachel.
How those thirty seconds between hearing her scream and reaching her apartment door had felt like an eternity.
How his heart had pounded when he'd seen David's arm around her waist, shielding himself.
Mark clapped him on the shoulder. “You did good today, Jack. Really good. Believe me, I know how hard that was.”
“Thanks.” Jack suddenly remembered his dad mentioning Mark’s family being threatened and how the sheriff’s detectives and deputies had to rescue them. “Shit, Mark… I’d forgotten about your situation.”
Mark nodded. “A long time ago, but it never leaves you.”
This time, Jack just nodded, knowing no words were necessary. But as he sat down at his desk to type up his notes before heading to the magistrate's office, all Jack could think about was the earlier scene that wouldn’t leave his mind.
Footsteps pounding up the stairwell. He honestly couldn’t remember if it was him or Mark who shouted that the sheriff’s department was there and to let Rachel go.
But he did remember when he rounded the landing with his weapon drawn and locked eyes with David's. Every bit of his training flew out the window as he focused on keeping his voice calm, keeping David talking, and looking for an opening.
And then Rachel had made her choice. She'd gone completely limp, her full weight dropping suddenly in David's arms. The unexpected shift threw David off-balance. His grip loosened just enough that Jack could lunge. He’d never been more terrified or more proud in his entire life.
He’d barely heard Mark tell David that he was under arrest. After that, Jack hadn't heard anything other than Rachel’s breathing as he sat on the floor with his arms around her shaking body.
She'd buried her face in his chest, and he could hear his own heart hammering and feel his hands shaking as they held her.
Now, sitting at his desk in the quiet detective bullpen, Jack finished typing his notes and saved the file. No grandstanding. No celebration. Just relief that it was over.
He and Mark headed to the magistrate's office to finalize the charges. The paperwork took another hour, but finally it was done. David Peterson would be held without bail pending trial. The evidence was solid. The case was airtight.
When Jack finally walked out of the sheriff’s department building, the sun had set and the parking lot was mostly empty. He checked his phone and saw a text from Rachel. I’m at Shiloh’s house getting fussed over.
Jack texted back immediately. On my way.
Joseph opened their front door, allowing Jack to enter. Joseph thrust his hand out, but as soon as Jack slipped his hand in for a handshake, Joseph pulled him into a hug.
“Thank you, thank you,” Joseph hoarsely whispered, not hiding his emotions. “You know Rachel is like a sister to me… hell, even a daughter. Thank you for being there for her… for keeping her safe.”
Jack wanted to see Rachel but gave Joseph his moment, nodding as the two men held each other's gaze. Then, stepping back, Joseph welcomed him in, leading him into the living room.
Jack’s gaze sought and immediately found Rachel sitting on the sofa with Shiloh hovering nearby. She stood and walked into his arms, and Jack held her like he'd never let go.
“You're okay,” he whispered into her hair.
“I'm okay,” Rachel whispered back.
Joseph gently led Shiloh out of the room, giving them privacy. Jack and Rachel stood in the middle of the room, holding each other, and Jack felt something crystallize inside him.
He'd almost lost her. Really, truly lost her. And at that moment, when he'd seen David restraining her, Jack had realized something with absolute clarity. He couldn't lose Rachel again. Not to distance, not to fear, not to anything. She was it for him. She'd always been it for him.
And he was done wasting time. “Rachel,” Jack said quietly, pulling back just enough to look at her face. “I need to tell you something.”
“Okay,” Rachel said, her eyes searching his.
Jack started, then stopped, wanting the words to be right.
He took a breath and tried again. Jack spoke, his words soft.
“We have a history that goes way back. Solidifying everything I’ve ever felt for you.
And I know we've only just gotten back together. But Rachel, when I heard you scream, when I saw David grab you...” Jack's voice cracked.
“I've never been that scared in my life.
And I realized that I can't waste any more time pretending this is just us dating again or seeing where it goes.
You're it for me, Rach. You've always been it for me.”
Rachel's eyes filled with tears. “Jack—”
“I love you,” Jack said. “I'm in love with you. And I know you know that, but I needed to say it. I needed you to hear it. Because my greatest fear isn't failing at this job, or disappointing Dad, or anything else. My greatest fear is losing you again. And I'm not going to let that happen.”
Rachel reached up and cupped his face in her hands. “I love you too. So much. And Jack? I'm not going anywhere.”
Jack pulled her close again, burying his face in her hair, and felt the last of the fear drain away. She was safe. She was his. And he was never letting go.
They stood for a long time, holding each other. When they finally pulled apart, Rachel smiled up at him through her tears. “Take me home? Your home.”
“Yeah,” Jack said. “And since I don’t want you in that unsecure apartment anymore, you’ll stay with me. And we’ll start looking for a place to call our own.”
She smiled, and his heart pounded inside his chest. She was beautiful when she beamed up at him.
And he’d never take those smiles for granted.
They said goodbye to Shiloh and Joseph and made the short drive to his parents’ place.
Once there, they indulged Colt’s congratulations and Carrie’s concerns.
Then he led her upstairs, and with her bandaged hand in his, Jack knew with absolute certainty that he'd made the right choice.
Rachel was his home. She'd always been his home.