CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE Tate

Agentle nudge woke me from a deep slumber. I was wrapped in Luke's arms, facing away from him, his arm draped over me.

"Someone's buzzing the door, Tate," he whispered, squeezing my shoulder.

"What?" I mumbled.

"The door," he said again. "Someone is downstairs."

Luke jumped out of bed and pulled gym shorts and a tank top on before heading downstairs. I was right behind in a robe. When I joined him at the intercom system, the small screen showed three officers, all in uniform. We glanced at one another and Luke's eyes doubled in size as he realized who was buzzing the loft.

"Hello," I answered.

"This is Officer Jackson from the Jefferson County Sheriff's Office," one of them spoke. "We need to speak with Luke Oliver."

"I'm Tate Finnigan, his attorney. May I ask what this is about?"

"We were told that Mr. Oliver lives here. We need a few minutes with Mr. Oliver, if you could please let us in."

I moved my hand from the intercom button and looked at a frightened Luke. "What do you think they want?" he asked, sliding his hand into mine.

My mouth pinched as I wondered the same thing. "Not sure," I mumbled. "I'll let them in, but you say nothing to them, okay?"

"What if they ask me a direct question?"

"Nothing, Luke. Let me be your voice on this," I urged. "It's probably just follow-up questions concerning the investigation, but you say nothing. I need to know everything you say before you say it. Understand, my love?"

Luke nodded and made his way to the sofa, where he sat down, placing his chin in his hands as he leaned over. He was afraid, and his body language proved the point.

"Come on up, Officer Jackson." I opened the door a crack and joined Luke on the sofa, my hand on his thigh. "It's just a routine follow-up. Let me do the talking. And breathe," I added, a knock on the door diverting our attention.

"It's open," I said, standing.

"I'm Jackson. This is Purcell and Rogers," he said, gesturing to the other officers, holding out his badge.

"What can we do for you?" I asked, moving away from Luke so as not to give them an indication of our closeness. "Kind of early for house calls."

Officer Jackson glanced at the other men, sending a silent signal. My stomach flipped immediately. This was no quick QA. Luke twisted his hands in his lap, glancing from me and then to the officers repeatedly. I shook my head ever so slightly, reminding him that whatever they were here for, he needed to let me do the talking.

"We're here to arrest Mr. Oliver for the murder of Franklin Smith," he stated, motioning his men to secure Luke, who was cowering in fear.

I raised a hand toward the two men. "There's no need to cuff Mr. Oliver," I stated, standing and moving to Luke's side. "Mr. Oliver will cooperate."

"We'll be taking him to the County Jail," Officer Jackson announced.

"Please give us a moment to change into more appropriate clothing," I said, touching my robe. "Mr. Oliver needs to change as well."

"You can do what you want, Mr. Finnigan, but the suspect is going as is right now."

"That's ridiculous," I hissed. "He is not a threat and I want to accompany him."

"Like I said, you can do whatever you like, but we're arresting Mr. Oliver in cuffs!"

He motioned toward Luke and the other two officers stepped toward him. "It's okay, Luke," I said. "Let them take you and I'll be right behind, promise."

Luke looked terrified and there was nothing I could do at that moment to console him. I was more than petrified at the visual in front of me. These officers didn't know Luke like I did. He may look like a threat because of his size, but he was a teddy bear.

Officer Jackson pulled out a small notepad and began to read Luke his rights. "Luke Oliver Junior, you are under arrest for the murder of Franklin Smith Junior, formerly of Half Moon Ranch. You have the right to remain…"

The room went silent even though alarm bells were blasting in my head.

Breathe, Tate. Stay calm for Luke. You knew this could happen, and now it's showtime.

Luke was in a holding cell when I arrived at the jail. The ride to town was spent with me convincing myself that there was absolutely zero chance that the man I loved was capable of murder. No way. Zip. Zero. Nada.

However, he was a victim of horrific abuse, most of it sexual, some of it physical. And who would believe a boy built like him couldn't defend himself? Luke had the motive to kill Franklin. He'd shared the extent of the abuse with me. It wasn't a pretty revelation.

I waited in an empty room for the officers to give me an update on the charges and to provide me with evidence that my client—my future—had committed such a heinous crime. Once I had the evidence, I could prepare my defense, see if he could bond out, and all the things I was more than familiar with as a criminal attorney. The difference this time? I was in love with the accused.

The door opened and, much to my disgust, Alec Browning, attorney for the victim's spouse, appeared, flanked by two other men in suits. "Hello, Tate," he greeted, too smug for my liking. "This is Assistant District Attorney Karlton and Assistant Sheriff Marks."

I sat, stoically ignoring anything coming out of Alec's mouth, instead looking at the other two suits. "What do you have on my client that would warrant an arrest?" I demanded, opening my briefcase and removing Luke's file.

"He's a hothead, boys," Alec quipped, giving me a nasty glare. "Angry because his Loverboy is going to jail today."

I ignored the taunt of the preschooler in the expensive suit. "What do you have?" I repeated.

If I'd thought they might pussy-foot around with weak evidence, I had grossly underestimated them. "We have a video of your client having consensual sexual contact with the deceased, a laundry list of motives, and about four hundred witnesses that your client threatened to kill Mr. Smith more than four times, and on two separate occasions. Mostly circumstantial, but the D.A. is confident it'll be enough for a conviction."

Fuck! Time to play cool, Tate. You know the game and how it's played."Forensic evidence?" I inquired.

"Nothing yet," Mr. Karlton admitted.

"Murder weapon?"

"Not yet," he answered.

"How about a single shred of my client's DNA on the victim? Bloody clothing? Any kind of proof Mr. Oliver was anywhere near the crime scene on the day of the murder?"

"Not yet," he repeated.

I stood and tossed Luke's file on the table dramatically. "You've got nothing," I hissed. "I expect you to release Mr. Oliver immediately."

"Not happening, Tate!" Alec stated. "The kid was fucking the cult leader. Something went wrong. The kid is jealous or some shit, and then he blasts him with a shotgun. The video proves they had a lover's quarrel."

Once again, I ignored Alec and focused my attention on the men who had any relevance in the room. "My client was a victim of sexual abuse, and Franklin Smith was the perpetrator. End of story," I insisted.

"Not so fast, Mr. Finnigan," Karlton said. "One of the witnesses, a minor boy, witnessed your client nearly beating Mr. Smith to death at the eventual crime scene. That evidence alone will give us the ability to charge your client with murder. We're confident the physical evidence will surface once we complete our search of the ranch."

"So, you're admitting you haven't completed a search of the ranch?" I asked.

The look on their faces was all I needed to know what my next move would be. Alec's smug-ass look disappeared faster than a greyhound chasing a stuffed rabbit.

"The video is loaded in that VCR," Karlton stated, motioning to a relic of a TV and a VCR.

Jesus! A VCR in this age?"It's a real doozy, Tate," Alec chirped. "I can definitely see what you see in the kid," he added, holding his hands in the air and pretending to measure Luke's endowment. "Where do you put it?"

As much as I wanted to jump across the room and pound his ass into the floor, my remaining calm presented a better visual. "I'd appreciate privacy while I view your evidence," I demanded.

"Suit yourself," Alec snarled.

Did I want to see this?