Wickedly Dangerous (Baba Yaga, #1)(83)
“I’m clean and sober now, and I’ve found God. I know I need to tell the truth, and get this whole horrible thing out into the open.” The petite redhead gazed beseechingly at Liam, tiny streaks of salt water glistening on her perfect cheekbones. “I’m still your wife, no matter what you’ve done, but I can’t let this go on. You’re sick, Liam. You need help. When you killed our baby, shaking her to get her to stop crying, it was an accident. Killing all these other children won’t bring our baby back. You have to confess and clear your soul. And you have to stop blaming that poor innocent woman for the crimes you committed.”
*
LIAM COMPRESSED HIS lips together into a thin line and said, “Melissa, you know that’s not true.”
He felt like he’d been run over by a truck, blindsided by lies that sounded like truth, spoken by the last person he’d expected to see, least of all in this context. He didn’t understand why she was saying what she was saying. Or how on earth she was involved with this whole mess. Words swarmed around his ears like gnats, senseless and annoying, until one sentence finally stood out enough to get his attention.
“I’m what?” he said to Clive Matthews.
Matthews had crossed the floor to stand in front of Liam, backed up by his cronies on the board.
“You’re suspended,” Matthews repeated. “Pending an investigation of these very serious allegations.” His round face was pink and greasy with sweat in the inadequately air-conditioned old station. “I’ve been suspicious all along about your lack of progress on this case, and we are going to take a very serious look into both your current dealings and your child’s death three years ago.”
The board president wiped his forehead with the napkin that had been tucked into his jacket pocket and added portentously, “You should probably call a lawyer.”
Cold ran down Liam’s back and pooled at the base of his spine. Even his mouth felt numb and stiff. “I don’t need a lawyer,” he said, forming syllables out of blocks of ice and dropping them into the unfriendly atmosphere. “I haven’t done anything wrong.”
Nina and Molly came to stand by his side, both of them glaring at the board like lionesses defending their cub.
Molly said doubtfully, “Sheriff, are you sure? Just because you’re not guilty doesn’t mean you shouldn’t get an attorney. You need to defend yourself against these ridiculous charges.” She narrowed her eyes at Melissa, as if daring her to say one more negative thing.
Liam didn’t care. The damage was already done. He looked around the room at the faces full of doubt, uncertainty and distrust radiating from the very group who should have known him best. He refused to defend himself. He shouldn’t have to. His character and his actions all these years should speak for the kind of man he was. And if these people didn’t know that already, nothing he could say would make any difference.
Besides, maybe this was some twisted kind of justice—the universe’s way of punishing him for failing his baby, and later, his wife. He wasn’t guilty of the things she’d said, but he was guilty nonetheless. And he was so very, very tired. Too tired to fight this unexpected enemy.
“No,” he said to Molly. “I’ll be fine. No lawyer. Let them investigate. There’s nothing to find, and you know it.”
“Well of course I do,” she said caustically, hands on her hips. “But there are a thousand innocent men sitting in jail cells who probably said the same thing.”
Liam shrugged, too numb with shock to think beyond getting through this utterly insane moment. He’d deal with everything else later, when he’d had a chance to remember how to take a deep breath.
“We caught Maya, and she can’t steal any more children,” he said. “That’s all that matters right now.”
“Under the circumstances,” Peter Callahan said, stepping forward smoothly, “I don’t believe it would be fair to hold Ms. Freeman.” He turned to Clive Matthews. “I’d like to ask that she be released on my recognizance; I promise that she won’t leave the county, and will make herself available for any questioning required by whomever you appoint as acting sheriff.”
“Absolutely not!” Liam snapped, jolted out of his stunned inertia at last. “I caught her in the act of trying to kidnap a little boy!”
“So you say,” Callahan pointed out acidly. “But your word isn’t very good right now, is it?”
Liam swiveled back to face Matthews, only to see the man shaking his head in officious agreement.
“I do see your point,” Matthews said, snapping his fingers at the deputy sitting with Maya. “After all, Mrs. Turner says she didn’t see anything, and little Davy can’t seem to remember what happened, poor boy. So all we have against Ms. Freeman is Sheriff McClellan’s word, and that isn’t exactly proof, is it?”
The deputy brought Maya over, not meeting Liam’s eyes, and delivered her to her boss. She shot a triumphant look at Liam from under downturned lashes before smiling gratefully at the other men. Melissa stared at the ground, as if the dusty, scuffed linoleum had suddenly grown more interesting than the drama being acted out right in front of her.
Liam couldn’t believe this was happening. He’d finally caught the kidnapper, brought her in, and not only was he still out of a job, he might even end up going to jail for the crimes she’d committed. It was as if the entire world had gone mad. Or maybe he had.