Page 69 of Done Dirty

I reached gently for her hand and took it, glad when she clasped her fingers around mine. I felt for the pulse in her wrist. Her heartbeat was fast and erratic.

“That’s good,” I told her, keeping my voice even. “Nice and slow.”

There was a little hiccup in her throat and she leaned into me. “I lost the baby,” she whispered. “Brett was so angry. He drove me here and as soon as we stepped inside he punched me in the stomach. He said he wanted to make sure he wasn’t raising another man’s bastard.”

“Oh, God,” I said. “I’m so sorry.”

“He told me if I left the house or talked to anyone he’d kill me,” she said. “I thought about killing myself, just to save him the trouble. He hasn’t been home. He just sends me messages telling me he’s watching.”

Jack met my gaze and I could see the torment there. And I knew from experience that the best thing for Brett would be for Jack to never get his hands on him.

“Brianna,” he said. “You don’t have to be afraid anymore. We’re going to arrest Brett for murder. He’s going away for a long time. Is there someone you can call? Someone you can stay with while we’re taking care of him?”

“My sister,” she said. “She lives in Baltimore.”

“Okay,” Jack told her. “I want you to pack a bag, and I’m going to have a couple of officers drive you there if that’s okay. They’ll keep you safe and make sure you get there. We’ll stay here with you until the patrol unit arrives.”

She stared at us blankly. As if she couldn’t believe what he was saying was true.

Finally she nodded, got to her feet, and left the room.

“It’s a hell of an Independence Day,” Jack said.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Jack was on his phone before he started the car, calling his team directly instead of putting anything on the radio. First responders listen to police scanners. Brett Callum had been working this county for years and he knew people. If his name came across a frequency before we got there, he’d be gone before we hit the county line.

I sat in the passenger seat and watched the fields of rolling green go by out the window.

“Wade didn’t love her,” I said, breaking the silence. “Not really. I don’t think he’s capable of loving anyone but himself.”

“I’d agree with that,” Jack said.

“Her need for love and kindness would have made her another of his victims. She still doesn’t know the man he really was.”

“She will once this story breaks in the media,” Jack said.

I tapped my fingers on the armrest absentmindedly.

“It’s hard to wrap my brain around,” I said. “We’re used to working for the dead. Bringing justice to those who don’t have a voice. And making sure in the end, someone pays for taking a life. But Brett killing Wade doesn’t necessarily make Wade the victim.”

I watched a horse farm go by, white fences and green pasture, horses running along the pasture’s edge. “He built a business out of people’s shame and their vulnerability. I hate this case. The real victims are those who are left behind. Zoe Brown who couldn’t figure out why she was having sex with another man when she loved her husband, Matt being a decent man who loves his wife and was willing to put the marriage back together. Paige being used for her prescription pad. And then there’s the black book filled with women who were paying a man to keep their shame a secret.”

“Wade Rivers got a clean exit and never had to face consequences,” Jack said. “But he still got the death penalty.”

“There’s that at least.” I shifted in my seat. “As far as Brianna goes, he found a veterinarian with prescribing authority and an abusive marriage and he saw an opportunity. The same compounds he was already using exist in veterinary medicine under different labels, accessible through her clinic without a human pharmacy trail. He was grooming her the same way he groomed everyone else. The baby would’ve been leverage or it would’ve been irrelevant.”

Jack didn’t say anything. He just drove.

We pulled into the sheriff’s office lot and the bullpen was already filling up. Jack had made his calls and people had moved.

Daniels was against the back wall with her arms crossed. Derby had found a chair. Plank and Wachowski stood near the door close enough that their shoulders were almost touching. The captain was off to the side by the whiteboard. Cole had come in early for the occasion, and there were other deputies and detectives scattered around. I knew most of their names. Others I didn’t. But they all knew the horrors of this case. And they all knew that Brett Callum had killed a man in cold blood and then killed his wife’s unborn child. He’d be going down for that as well.

I leaned against the far wall.

Jack stood at the front and waited until it went quiet.

“We have our suspect,” he said. “Brett Callum. Firefighter at King George Proper, currently on shift. Former Marine, two tours, communications and systems specialist.” He paused a beat. “He murdered Wade Rivers, and after he walked his wife out of that building he beat her so badly she miscarried their baby. He’s been sending her messages for three days telling her he’s watching her.”