Chapter Two. #2
“Yeah. Hallie’s playing the long game. She’s gonna try to destroy me piece by piece,” I responded.
“I’ll make some calls, see if we can get the footage,” Chance stated.
“Thanks. I can imagine what Hallie is going to say,” I replied.
No, I couldn’t. I sat stunned several hours later as Hallie did a complete hatchet job on me. She wore the same clothes as this afternoon, but her hair was tied back and her scar was dominant.
“So, you’re saying the police worked with Mr Morris to make you look guilty?” the presenter—Jenny—asked.
Hallie looked sad and shrugged. “I would love to deny that, but I can’t.
My lawyer found the evidence. It had been completely logged wrong.
There’s no chain of custody either to identify who collected it.
Why isn’t there? Everything they used to prosecute me was bagged and tagged, but anything that proved my alibi?
Mishandled and misplaced. Worse, where is the missing hour?
I told them exactly where I was, so where is the footage?
Did they destroy it but forget about this clip? ”
“Do you really think that?”
Hallie leaned forward. “I absolutely do. Because my lawyer located two witnesses that the police had conveniently overlooked. Shane Morris can stand on his head and swear on the Bible that it was me. He’s a liar.
Shane’s protecting someone. He chose her over me, set me up to take the fall for her, and I want to know why. ”
“Your DNA was on him,” Jenny indicated.
Hallie laughed. “Why don’t you ask where my DNA was found?”
I stiffened. What? I’d not heard this; I just assumed her DNA was discovered near my wounds. Hallie pointed at her crotch.
“Oh!” Jenny gasped.
“Yes. We were in an active relationship, and the night before we’d had sex.” Hallie ducked her head as her cheeks pinked a little. “That’s where they discovered my DNA.”
“Shit,” Chance murmured. “Prospect. This isn’t going well for you.”
“No,” I ground out.
“The man I loved sent me to prison. The police helped him, and they all covered up for someone. My missing alibi and these two witnesses prove that. Now I’m scarred.
Because of Shane, this happened to me,” Hallie pointed to her face.
“The women who did it told me they’d been paid to do it by Shane.
It was a warning to keep my mouth shut.”
“Why didn’t you tell anyone?” Jenny asked, appalled.
“My entire hometown believed him; my own family turned against me and accepted every lying word Shane said. Who did I tell? Everyone thought I was guilty, and even though they’d known me never to lie, he convinced them.
I was a good person: I contributed to the soup kitchen every week, helped with charity drives, and raised money.
I looked after my elderly neighbours, and I did so much more.
“Yet, Shane claims I tried to kill him, and none of that mattered. Only four people ever believed in me. My grandpa, uncle, my lawyer Harry Lynch, and my best friend Kingston. Now their belief has been vindicated. It was a frame job, and I was their fall guy.” Hallie ducked her head as I ground my teeth.
“Fuck, if I didn’t know the truth, I’d believe her,” Rooster stated.
“This doesn’t look good for you.” Tiny shook his head.
“It was fuckin’ her,” I said through gritted teeth.
“We trust you, Rascal. But the world… right now, they’re on her side,” Bear remarked.
Tears welled in Hallie’s eyes on-screen. “I loved Shane Morris. That was my biggest mistake, and I paid for it ten times over.”
That goddamn bitch!
“Got a parcel for you,” Dollar stated, entering the clubhouse with a huge package. I frowned; I wasn’t aware of ordering anything.
I opened it and flinched.
“Nobody touch anything, and someone call Lio,” Chatter ordered.
A white wreath had been inside the box. It had a banner reading R.I.P. Shane. It was drenched in blood. Hallie. That goddamn psychotic bitch.
“Is there a card?” Chatter demanded.
“Yeah. It says, ‘I won’t miss next time’,” Dollar replied. “Is that a… Fuck!”
“What?” I shouted, on edge.
“It’s got a heart in the middle, with a knife stabbed through it. Christ, this is one sick bitch,” Dollar muttered, shaking his head.
I sank into a seat. What the hell was Hallie thinking?
Hallie–three days later
“What do you want?” I demanded of the cop standing in my doorway.
“We need you to attend the station,” he said.
“Nope. You guys have a habit of framing people. If you haven’t got a warrant, then I’m not coming.”
“We’ve probable cause, ma’am,” the uniform stated, and I laughed.
“Yeah, I doubt that. Because whatever you’re about to accuse me of will almost certainly be another setup.”
“Someone sent Mr Morris a threat. We think it came from you.”
“Oh goody. They’ve no proof, only a belief. If I believe I’m a billionaire, am I?”
“Miss Milton. My name is Detective Emilio Hawthorne. I’d like you to accompany me to the station.”
“She isn’t…” King began, but I held up a hand.
“It’s okay. This is just further harassment and another lawsuit.” I turned and grabbed my purse. “King, call Harry. I don’t talk without him.”
What was Shane setting me up for now? Well, considering the last couple of days I’d had, he was going to be hard-pressed to prove this.
On the drive over, Hawthorne kept trying to talk, and the only answer I gave him was lawyer. He settled me in a room, and I waited patiently. He tried again to make conversation, but I merely looked at him and studied my nails.
Half an hour later, Harry arrived.
“That was quick,” Hawthorne said, looking puzzled.
“I was in town visiting my client just before you arrested her. It was simply a matter of turning around and coming back. State what this is about,” Harry demanded.
“Mr Shane Morris received a disturbing gift today. A bloodstained wreath with a heart and dagger stabbed through it.”
“And?” Harry inquired.
“Nothing to say?” Hawthorne asked me, and I shrugged. “It had a note attached saying, ‘I won’t miss next time.’”
“Guess he pissed someone else off,” I said, grinning.
“We tracked the delivery back. It was sold from a shop in Spearfish, and that had cameras.”
I didn’t flinch and just looked amused.
Frustration built, but Hawthorne turned a laptop toward me, brought up a video clip, and pressed play.
“Harry, the time,” I remarked.
I watched disinterested as a woman approached the desk, never once showing her face. She collected a box and then left.
“I see it,” Harry replied.
“Nothing to say?” Hawthorne asked.
“Like what?” I demanded.
“Miss Milton, that is you collecting the wreath.”
“You’ve only the back of her,” I retorted. Hawthorne smiled.
“The florist has already identified you. That scar is distinctive.”
“Yes, it is.” I smirked. “Anything else?”
“This is you dropping it off at the delivery firm. I guess so you could add the heart, dagger and threat,” Hawthorne said, playing more footage.
“Are you done?” Harry asked.
“We’ve enough to charge your client,” Hawthorne stated.
“No, you don’t. But we have sufficient grounds for a harassment suit.”
Hawthorne smiled. “With the eyewitness testimony and that recording, we will charge Miss Milton.”
“Small problem.” I sat there and grinned and saw worry cross Hawthorne’s face as Harry spoke. “My client has a rock-solid alibi for that time.”
“Does she?” Hawthorne sneered. “Let’s have it.”
“She was with the mayor of your fine city, a women’s abuse panel, and several criminal justice rights campaigners. So, whoever you have there, detective, isn’t Miss Milton! Now we’ll have the name of the florist who falsely identified Hallie, and she’ll be served with a civil suit as well.”
Harry let the bomb drop as I smiled sweetly.
Hawthorne looked as if he had just swum in pig shit.