CHAPTER FIFTEEN

The officers in Booking were nervous as hell as their chief sat in a chair against the wall and watched with unblinking attention as they processed his wife into the Jericho County jail. But what they didn’t know was that Brent wasn’t watching them at all. He was watching MaKayla.

She was scared. He hadn’t seen that emotion on her face until they arrived at JPD and walked her downstairs. He even saw quivering in her lower lip when the officer took each one of her fingers and thumbs and pressed them into the fingerprint ink. She’d worked her whole life to be the best she could be. She never took a dime from anyone – she earned everything she had. And that was saying a lot considering her profession. Considering she rose all the way up to District Attorney in a lily-white, sometimes super-unenlightened town like Jericho. But she won them over with her hard work, her intellect, her tenacity. Now all of that was at risk, or maybe even already tossed away, because of that craziness in that hotel suite.

Sergeant Doke Pyles, the nightshift supervisor, who’d known Brent since grade school, came downstairs and sat in the chair beside the boss. He folded his arms and stared at MaKayla too. “This some bullshit,” he said. “You know that.” But then he looked at Brent, who never gave anybody a break whenever they were accused of breaking the law. “Right?”

“Yes, I know,” Brent said matter-of-factly, still staring unblinkingly at his wife.

Then Doke shook his head. “Who would do this to MaKayla of all people? That gal’s an even straighter shooter than you are. Who would want to do her this level of harm?”

It was the million-dollar question to Brent, the very one he couldn’t stop thinking about. “Could be somebody she put in prison. Could be someone she offended. Could be somebody so off the radar that it’s not even possible to know. I have no idea at this point.”

“I’ll bet your family’s gonna have plenty ideas,” Doke said with a smile. “Especially Big Daddy. Everybody knows he and MaKayla are real close.”

Brent knew it too. “He was devastated when I called him. He wanted to come down here too. I told him no. The MBI has already been contacted.”

“I can’t believe Phil called them without your permission.”

“He knew I wasn’t going to give it. He did his job, much as I hate to say it.” Then he exhaled. “The MBI is involved and there’s nothing we can do about it now. And the last thing they’ll need to see are a bunch of Sinatras running around.”

“You got that right,” Doke said. “Because let’s face it: The MBI, like most every other authority in this state, hate the Sinatras’ guts. It’ll do them a world of good to see one of your kind fall. They’ll love to see a member of your family fall.”

“They’ll keep waiting because she’s not going to fall,” Brent said bluntly as an officer began to walk MaKayla down the hall toward the cells. Brent quickly stood up. “Get back to work,” he ordered Doke as he hurried behind the officer.

Another cop, a twenty-year vet, stepped out of the booking booth and walked over to Doke. They both were watching Brent follow his wife and the booking officer. “Never seen the chief like this, and I’ve known him almost as long as you have. You know what he made us do?”

“What?”

“He made us scrub down the cell we’re going to put her in.”

Doke looked at him. “You’re shitting me.”

“He ordered us to do it. And we did it! Even though he knows MBI is coming. Even though he knows they’re gonna ask us all kinds of questions about favoritism and all that crap. It’s like he don’t give a damn about keeping his job.”

“He gives a damn,” said Doke. “He just gives a damn about his wife more than his job.” Then he looked at the officer like that should have gone without saying, and then he headed back upstairs to his own job.

The young booking officer unlocked the freshly scrubbed cell and MaKayla walked inside. But just as he was about to close her in, the chief walked in behind her. “Lock it,” he said to his officer.

The officer was dumbstruck. “Sir?”

“Lock the cell.”

“But sir you’re in it.”

Brent gave him a look that made clear he wasn’t just talking just to talk. And fear suddenly gripped the young officer. “Yes sir,” he said quickly and promptly locked the cell. Then he stood there a moment longer, which caused Brent to look at him again. Then he realized he was missing the point altogether and hurried out of the cell area.

Brent watched as MaKayla walked around in the cell. He could tell she already felt like a caged-in animal. But he knew what she was doing. She was trying to make the best of a horrific situation. Trying to find whatever positives she could in the interim. Because that was what she did. She never cowered or gave up. She always fought back.

But right now, he saw more fear in her than fight.

That was why he wasn’t leaving her side.

That was why, when she finally sat on the bed with her back against the wall, he sat on that bed beside her with his back against the wall too. And there they sat: shoulder to shoulder. As if what was happening to MaKayla was Brent’s burden to bear too. He took her hand, sat it on his lap, and held it there. Then he pulled her onto his lap and held her too.

She laid her head against his chest as he held her. And the tears began to return. “I’ve worked all my life to never be a statistic. To never do anything around these white folks that would make my people ashamed of me.” She wiped tears from her eyes. “But it didn’t work,” she said and began to sob.

Brent held her without saying words that he knew would be meaningless. And MaKayla appreciated that. Because Brent was not the kind of man that talked about doing something, he did something. Action always spoke louder than words to him. She knew that was why he was in that cell with her, rather than just telling her everything was going to be alright. He showed that everything would be alright because he was by her side. She loved him even more for that.

But although she was terrified of spending the night alone in a jail cell, she also knew he could get in trouble if an MBI agent caught him in that cell. “You can go on home, Brent,” she said. “You don’t have to stay here, Brent. I’ll be okay,” she added, even though she didn’t mean it. “You can go on home.”

But Brent meant it. “When I go home,” he said, “you’re going with me.”

She looked up and into his deep green eyes. “You’re planning on staying in this cell with me all night?”

Brent looked down at her sweet, beautiful, big bright teary eyes. And his heart just melted. He pulled her closer. “That’s my plan, yes.”

“But what about the Bureau? They’ll probably be here by morning. At least promise me you’ll be out of here before they arrive.”

“I’m not promising you that. I leave when you leave.”

“But Brent --”

“Don’t but Brent me, MaKayla! There is no way I’m leaving my wife in this hellhole alone. No way. These bastards will be thrilled to crucify you. What you want me to do? Let’em ?” He looked deep into MaKayla’s sultry eyes. “I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

MaKayla stared at him for several seconds, her huge eyes filled with unshed tears. “You saw my underwear in that bedroom. You heard Phil say how nothing I was telling him was adding up. You heard about Darren saying he never called me and never heard of that informant.”

“Your point?”

“Why do you believe in my innocence when everything is stacked against me? When everything is pointing to my guilt?”

Brent considered her. She was anguished by all that was stacked against her. She was afraid, in time, that he would turn against her too. “I know you, MaKayla. I know what you’re capable of. I know what you’re not capable of. You wouldn’t hurt a flea. And I mean a flea.” She smiled. But Brent remained dead serious. “There’s no way in hell you killed Judge Clayton. There’s no way.”

“They’re implying I had an affair with him.”

She waited for him to knock that down too, but he didn’t. She had so much more she wanted to tell him, so much more , but when he didn’t defend her regarding those nasty rumors, she knew she had better be glad he was still sticking it out with her and shut her mouth too. Just be grateful he hadn’t deserted her like Darren did. Like Phil did. Like so many more would soon do.

She placed her hand on the side of his face and kissed him long and hard. “Your faith in me will never be proven wrong,” she said. “I promise you that.”

Brent smiled and kissed her too. And he held her closer still.

But despite their oneness and brave faces, both of them were inwardly terrified.