Second Time's the Charm

He knew he hadn’t committed a crime. And he believed he was going to be convicted, anyway.

Hell, he’d convict himself, given the evidence.

How in the hell had someone used his rubber cups to break into all of those homes? They were in the back of his truck. Always. Until he’d thrown them away. And there hadn’t been a break-in involving the cups since. There’d only been one, period. Involving a broken window.

Greg Richards was certain that Jon had used those cups himself. Jon had told him about disposing of them and why he’d done it. But it had been too late. He’d already lost all his credibility with the lawman for lying in the first place.

He had to get rid of Lillie. She couldn’t see him like this. He wasn’t going to taint her beauty with his dirt.

The sound of a key in the cell door got Jon’s attention. A deputy he hadn’t seen before called him out and motioned him toward the interrogation room he’d spent so much time in the day before.

Addy was standing by the table as he entered the room. The door closed behind him and they were alone.

“Have a seat,” she said.

Wordlessly, Jon complied.

“We have a lot to go over, but the first thing I want to do is talk about each of the nights in question,” she said, sitting down next to him this time, rather than across from him, and opening her portfolio. Pen in hand she looked over at him, her gaze open, compassionate. Not the least bit doubtful.

She thought they were going to beat this?

Believe.

He was sitting in jail with a top-notch attorney fighting for him. For free. Because she considered him a friend. While Lillie, beautiful Lillie, who’d spent the night in his bed, watched over his son.

Believe.

“I need to know where you were every minute of the dates and times in question,” Addy said. “If you remember what time you went to sleep, what homework you did...maybe you were on the internet and we could establish an alibi with a search of your IP address.”

Believe.

His job was to concentrate so he could recall the information Addy needed.

After more than an hour of mental backtracking, all they’d come up with was that Jon had been at home every single night that there’d been a break-in.

If Jon’s suction cups had been used, they’d been taken from his truck while it was parked at the duplex.

The bed of his truck was covered.

“Do you keep it locked?”

“Of course.”

“What kind of lock?”

“A keyed lock.”

“One that could be easily picked?”

His foster brothers could have picked it. But he didn’t keep anything of any real value to him back there. Just tools that didn’t fit in the storage space he had in the apartment. Tools that he could replace if he had to.

Addy called the sheriff. Jon could only hear her side of the conversation, but it sounded as if Shelter Valley’s sheriff was taking her seriously.

And as if he knew something pertinent, some new information, that Addy and Jon hadn’t known.

Before Addy could tell him what he’d said, her phone rang again. It was Mark calling, she said.

“Do you mind if I fill him in on the details here?” she asked Jon before she picked up. “He wants to help, if he can.”