Redeemed Complete: A Military Stepbrother Romance (28 page)

“Where were we?”

Still Harrison said nothing, and I didn’t know what to do either. How could I let him stay silent? But what could I say to help? He clearly didn’t want to talk, clearly didn’t want to explain what really happened. I had no idea why.

“Oh right, the silent treatment. I figured I left that at home,” Stallman joked, trying to lighten the mood. No one responded, and he waved it away again, picking up his coffee cup and taking a sip, scowling at the result. “Every time I get my hopes up, and every time they’re dashed on the rocky shore of bad coffee mountain.” He sighed as he put the cup down.

“Well,” he said, sitting up straighter and reaching into his jacket pocket to pull out a pen and notebook, “this really isn’t getting us anywhere, Harrison. I’m gonna give you one last chance to make a statement, to say something in your defense. Tell me something, something I can use to help you out.”

Harrison continued doing his statue impersonation, and a damn good one. I couldn’t even tell if he was breathing. His eyes were open, though. That was a good sign. I knew juries could indict a ham sandwich if they were so inclined, but it might be tougher to indict a statue.

Officer Stallman held his pen above his open notebook like he expected Harrison or me to suddenly start talking a mile a minute. He was ready to take notes, but nothing came out. He sighed and put the notebook away, back into his jacket pocket, setting his large and calloused hands back on the table, palms down.

Jefferson grinned back at us, Harrison in particular, like he was about to enjoy this next part. They had us right where they wanted us. Harrison wasn’t talking, and they were going to throw the book at him. Or, at least, start the process of throwing said book.

And Jefferson would enjoy every moment of it.

“Officer Jefferson, would you please give us a few minutes?”

Jefferson whipped his head around to look at his partner. “What?” The shock in his voice was clear.

“You heard me, Officer Jefferson. I’d like a few moments alone with our guests here. Would you step outside?”

“This is highly -“

“Unorthodox, yes, Officer Jefferson, I am well aware at how strange this is. Nevertheless, I am making the request. Will you give us the room for a few minutes?”

Jefferson shook his head, muttering to himself and launched himself into the air, slamming the chair back down on the floor afterward. He picked up his coffee cup, letting some of it spill out onto the table, and didn’t bother wiping it up.

As a last measure before turning toward the door he kicked his chair hard enough that the backrest collided with the brim of the table, a loud metal clang reverberating through the room.

Officer Jefferson opened the door, stepped through, and slammed it shut. I could hear him more than see him stomp down the hall, presumably toward his desk.

Officer Stallman still kept a serene look on his face. He and Harrison were more alike than I initially thought - I wondered if I was there whether each would speak at all, or would they just try and out-smug each other in silence?

“That’s better,” he said. “Officer Jefferson is a good cop, but he doesn’t have a sense of the subtlety it takes to be a real asset to the community.”

He learned forward, rubbing his hands together. “Now, Harrison, you’re facing some serious charges here. You really beat that guy up a couple nights ago, and he’s…not thrilled about it, to say the least.”

He said back in his chair. “Do you know who it was? The man you attacked?”

I piped up this time, trying to put my words in the right order so as not to suggest that Harrison did anything wrong, before I remembered the statement I’d just given Stallman in the other room. I’d made it clear that Harrison was helping me that, what he’d done wasn’t his fault. It was justified. “His name is Steve. He lives around here, works for a family business or something. Manufacturing, I think.”

Harrison looked at me and shook his head sharply. “Don’t say a word, Laurel.” If he was going to be a statue he wanted me to try my hardest to be one too.

Unfortunately that wasn’t my style. “No, Harrison, I won’t stay quiet. You seem determined not to help yourself out and I can’t let that sit any longer. You didn’t do anything wrong and the police need to know that.”

“You’re not helping the situation,” he hissed back at me before resuming his silent tete-a-tete with Officer Stallman.

I reached over and took Harrison’s head between my hands. He tried to shake me off, but I didn’t let go. “And you are?” I implored him when he faced me again. “You think being quiet and letting them railroad you is the solution? What does that get you?”

“Ahem,” officer Stallman cleared his throat across the table, “let me be clear, Ms. Gold. No one is being railroaded here. I am trying to get your stepbrother to listen to reason and tell us what happened and he doesn’t seem to want to do that. But he needs to know,” he stopped addressing me and focused on Harrison, “what you need to know is that this isn’t getting you anywhere. I’ve looked at your file.”

He moved his hands to suggest he was carrying a thick stack of papers. “Your file takes up a good amount of space around here. Sometimes we pass around a file and take bets on how long it would be before we’d see that particular guest of ours back again. When I heard you’d joined the military I put a long bet down, I thought you’d cleaned yourself up.”

“But, now that you’re back, I can safely say that I lost, and as you may be able to tell from his catbird attitude, Jefferson won. So even though my bet is lost and gone forever, you have to believe me, Harrison, I still want to help you out.”

“I can tell you do, Officer Stallman, and I thank you for that, even if my stepbrother here,” I flicked my head toward Harrison,” doesn’t seem to want to show it.”

Stallman chuckled. “I was a lunkhead like him back in my day. I know the type. It takes something or someone special to get people like us back on the right track. I’d hoped that for you it would be the military. It still might be.”

I could see Harrison’s eyes waiver, like his resolve was very very slightly beginning to crack and let some light in. I breathed in deep, hopeful.

“Now, back down to business. The reason I, encouraged officer Jefferson to take a break for a few minutes, was to tell you something about your future.”

That sounded ominous. I leaned forward, glancing at Harrison, and saw he was paying attention also. Good, it looked like he was finally getting it through his head - this was a big deal.

“The guy you assaulted,” he waved his hand again, “and lets not go through that song and dance again, we all know you did it. The guy you beat up, well, he’s not exactly someone we particularly like around here.”

“He’s known as a guy who gets a little aggressive with women quickly. No one presses charges, though. His family’s on the wealthy side and they are very good at hushing things up. Still, we know to keep an eye out for him.”

“He’s done this before?” I’d gotten off easy, but if he’d forced himself on other girls in the past…I was even more grateful Harrison had been there when he was.

“Yeah, a few times. In any case, we took his statement yesterday after what happened between you two a couple nights ago and given Harrison’s record the chief said we should bring you in and sweat you out. Not because, you know, we believe Steve’s version of things, we just wanted to hear your side of the story.”

“Now I know you don’t trust the police - I’ve read your file, and to say that I understand your suspicion, given what you’ve been through, is understating things quite a bit. But we’re really here to help people like you, Harrison. We’re here to give you a fair shake.”

Harrison still didn’t respond, but I could see a little smile starting to crease its way across his face. I didn’t understand how he could be so calm and serene in a time like this. His future was at stake and all he did was smile?

“But since you don’t seem to want to help us, all we have to go on is the statement your stepsister made to us this morning.”

If Harrison hadn’t been handcuffed to the table he’d have jumped up in fury. As it was he turned to me, his face livid. “You made a statement?” He bellowed at me, just barely keeping his voice from exploding. “I told you not to say anything!”

I felt the tears start to flow. “I couldn’t do nothing, Harrison! I didn’t know what to do last night, so I came here and told them what happened! I was just trying to help!”

“I don’t need your help, Laurel! I had it under control!”

“You call this control?” I choked up. “You’re in an interrogation room! You spent the night in jail, Harrison! They’re talking about charging you with assault! What kind of control are you in!?”

Harrison’s arms, taut before, went slack as he took in my words.
 

“Let’s make one thing clear,” officer Stallman added, “this is not an interrogation room. This is a conference room. We’re having a conference here.”

Neither of us responded to his attempt at a joke.

“Let me stop you two right there before one of you takes the other’s head off. I just wanted to let you know we’re not proceeding with the case any further.”

I felt my jaw hit the floor and Harrison looked similarly surprised. “What?”

“You heard me. Like I said, Steve is not exactly viewed fondly around here, but his family wields certain influence that requires us to at least check things out when he gets beat up, especially if the suspect in question has had such a long and colorful history with the local police, as you have, Harrison.”

He sat back. “But the statement you made, Ms. Gold, was detailed enough that we’re pretty certain you were actually present, despite not being a part of Steve’s version of the events of two nights ago. You included some key pieces of information that lead us to believe your take over Steve’s. And if what you said really happened, then for my money Steve’s lucky he’s still walking today.”

Harrison nodded, finally showing emotion to someone in the room besides me. Officer Stallman leaned forward, his hands out, a key in one of them. He reached toward Harrison’s handcuffs, but then stopped.

“I get that you’re not big on words, Harrison, especially not to police, but I’m gonna give you a little bit of advice before I escort you two out of here.”

“We’re all ears,” I said, tugging at Harrison’s sleeves till he nodded.

“I’m gonna come out and say it flat: you’re not going to get much sympathy around here. The file we’ve got you has been circulated to the nearby towns and the police aren’t going to show you any leniency if you screw up again. I know, I know, you did this to save your stepsister; in your shoes I would have done the same and shown much less restraint than you did. But that doesn’t change things - you need to keep yourself in check. Stay out of things. I know you want to get involved, but you can’t afford to, not with your record.”

Officer Stallman reached forward and in one swift motion unlocked the bracelets from around Harrison’s wrists. Harrison rubbed his hands together, working out the kinks from having them on for so long. “Are we done here?”

Stallman sighed before standing up. “Yeah, we’re done here. I’ll walk you out, and make sure Jefferson doesn’t see us. He’ll find out soon enough, but I’ll take care of him. He’s still got a free dinner coming up because of you.”

Harrison stood up and I followed him, looking down at the table then at Harrison’s hands. “Thank you so much, officer Stallman,” I offered, as Stallman opened the conference room door and ushered us out.

We stepped toward the door, but Stallman stopped Harrison as they passed by each other. “Hold up there a second,” Stallman started. “I just wanted to thank you for your service. I was really happy to hear you’d joined up, and it’s good to see that you’ve made it this far.”

Harrison drew himself up straight and nodded, taking Stallman’s offered hand and shaking it formally. “Don’t mention it,” I barely heard him whisper.

Officer Stallman glanced out the door down the hall in either direction before giving us a thumbs up. “After you, folks, take a right.” We went out and down the hall back toward the reception area.

“I’ll leave you both here,” Stallman said from behind us when we got to the door. It felt like we’d been in the conference room for hours, but it was still just before noon, and the day outside was bright with scattered clouds. “Harrison, remember what I said. Keep your nose clean and we’re all good.” He smiled. “As much as we enjoy your company, you know, we’d rather not see you around here ever again. Got it?”

Harrison nodded, still silent, and I waved, smiling at Stallman before he turned and went back down the hallway into the depths of the police station.

“Shall we go home?” I searched Harrison’s face for signs of relaxation so I could relax myself, but didn’t get anything from him.

“Yes, lets,” was all he said.

As expected, the car was freezing when we got back. It felt weird having Harrison in my car, probably almost as weird to him as me being in his. We drove home in silence, with Harrison resisting every attempt of mine to start a conversation until I just gave up.

The trip took about 15 minutes, and when we pulled up in front of the house I was happy to see our parents car not in the driveway yet. Crisis averted; we wouldn’t have to explain where we’d been, and hopefully “police station” and “arrested” wouldn’t come up in conversation at home, well, ever.

We got out of the car and walked up the steps toward the front door of the house, careful to avoid the new coats of snow that had fallen while were otherwise engaged with the law. Harrison walked in front of me, saying nothing.

The house still held some heat inside, and after I closed the door behind us, I started taking off my jacket and making myself, well, at home, but Harrison stood in the center of the hall and didn’t do anything.

“Everything OK?” I asked, putting my hand on his shoulder, tentatively at first. I wanted him to know I was there for him.

My hand only rested on his shoulder for a moment before Harrison spun around and knocked it off. “Don’t touch me.”

I reeled back as if he’d hit me. “What’s your problem?”