28 Days: a romantic suspense (3 page)

He really couldn’t do this.

“C’mon, Quinten. You know you have to step forward.” The guard looked younger than him. He also looked sorry that he had to force him inside.

Inhaling, Quinten forced his legs to move him forward. The minute he stepped inside, the door closed and locked behind him.

“Turn around.”

On automatic pilot, he turned and let them remove the chains while he kept his eyes closed.

“They’re off. Move away from the door.”

He followed their orders.

He always did.

He was a model prisoner.

His eyes finally opened as he moved closer to the bed and dropped to the mattress, his legs no longer willing to hold him up.

Quinten rested his elbows on his knees and dropped his head into his hands.

He stayed like that for a long time.

1
0
:45pm

H
er body
hardly had any life left in it.

She was fading fast.

So cold.

The pain.

“You’re safe now. I won’t let anyone hurt you. I promise.” He caressed her face with fingers that felt like icicles. “Saige, it’s me.” He softly kissed her lips.

His eyes so familiar...

Shooting up in bed, Saige reached out and struggled to turn the lamp on.

As soon as there was light in the room, she scrambled and rested against the headboard. Sweat poured off her as she wrapped her arms around her bent knees.

She’d had dreams before, but none that she remembered once she woke.

Trees had been behind the man who’d crouched over her. She remembered the sound of the birds chirping, and the sound of the man crying, promising to protect her. The man she’d seen had been the one who was sitting on death row.

The dream felt real. Too real. She felt like it had been the pain that had pulled her under. No fight had been left in her and she wanted to go to sleep so that she wouldn’t hurt so much.

Then he came.

She’d felt his presence and knew he’d help her.

She’d known not to fight him when he wrapped her up in something.

Why had she felt safe with him?

“Saige, it’s me.”
His voice whispered in her dream…maybe even in her memory.

He knew her.

He’d expected her to know him, recognize his voice.

Unable to hold her tears in any longer, she let them fall unchecked down her face while a feeling of overwhelming grief surrounded her.

For the first time in eight years, she’d dreamt something that had felt real—something that she remembered the details of after waking, at least, she presumed it was the first time.

One thing she realized was that she wanted to know about the trial. She wanted to know about the man who was going to be killed in twenty-eight days.

The man she should have feared and hated. But that hadn’t been what she’d felt.

In frustration, she sent the room back into darkness.

1
1
:20pm

A
lexander Peterson
, known for the past six years as Alex Peters, danced around the old leather bag in front of him, wishing like hell it was Richard Lockwood.

For eight years, his hate for the Lockwood family had grown and fueled his anger at the lies they’d told. And just like when his brother had been arrested and subsequently charged with the murder of those college girls, and the attempted murder of
her
, he felt helpless.

He loved his brother and knew he was innocent. Even when the evidence piled up and eventually incriminated him, Alex had never given up hope that one day Quinten would be acquitted.

Alex had hoped that
she’d
come forward and tell the world that it was all lies...except she hadn’t. She’d been hidden away by her family and he’d had no idea where to even start looking.

Quinten had needed her, he’d needed her, but Alex had given up searching because their mother had lost all hope. Just before she died, their mother begged him to get his life together instead of festering on the hate and betrayal he’d felt at his brother’s incarceration. He’d kept his promise, becoming a firefighter, but he’d still let the hate and betrayal fester. He’d just learned to hide it from her and his friends.

His brother’s defense attorney had filed so many appeals and motions to try and get another trial, but he’d hit a brick wall with all of them.

Time now slipped through his fingers.

Twenty-eight days.

Just hearing those words made him want to hurl.

In eight years, they hadn’t been able to get a retrial.

In eight years, they hadn’t found new evidence to implicate someone else or tampering with evidence in his brother’s case.

So what the fuck could he do in
twenty-eight days
?

Alex wanted to go and beg Lockwood to help free his brother, but he knew that the man wouldn’t. No matter what Richard Lockwood had said to his face, he’d had no intention of helping Quinten. His wife had been another matter altogether. Christina Lockwood had lied to him. The only woman he’d ever let close, and she’d taken his heart and crushed it.

He first met her when Richard Lockwood had employed him and Quinten to create one of their masterpiece carvings for the wooden banister in the foyer of their home. At first, Christina flirted with them both when Richard wasn’t around, which they ignored.

A few weeks later, he found her upset when he went looking for a bottle of water. He saw a different side of her then, and over the course of the following weeks things had gotten out of hand, but neither could stay away from the other...and then she crushed him. Just as Saige did to his brother. If Saige hadn’t been her stepdaughter, he’d have said it was a case of like mother, like daughter, because Saige had crushed his brother’s heart.

Alex remembered the first time they met Saige Lockwood. It had been the day before she turned twenty-one. She suddenly appeared on the stairs in front of them on her way down to breakfast. His tongue had gotten stuck to the roof of his mouth, and as she passed them by, he noticed a similar stunned expression on his brother’s face. Quinten had been in a bad marriage back then, but Alex watched as his brother fell for her. He didn’t blame him. Saige was beautiful, and they later discovered that she was just as beautiful on the inside as well.

She had a head full of sun-kissed blonde hair that nearly touched her bottom. Her blue eyes had been like looking into the ocean on a sunny day. He hadn’t been as taken with her as much as Quinten. His obsession had been directed elsewhere, but from that day forward, his brother looked for her every time they were at her house.

Alex shook his head, wanting to forget all about
her.
She betrayed his brother and him in the end by lying about the man who took her. What he’d never been able to understand was why? Why would she lie and let the real man walk free? For years, he’d wanted answers, and still did.

Saige refused to see him when she’d first been taken to the hospital, before he even knew that his brother had been arrested for her abduction. Then when he discovered the lies she told, he felt nothing but betrayal.

His gut burned. He wanted justice, just like she should.

He wanted his brother to be set free, and allowed to live his life.

It killed him knowing that in twenty-eight days his little brother would no longer be on this earth. He would never see him again. Even though he was behind bars, he at least lived and breathed. But in less than a month, his brother would be put to death for something he didn’t do.

“
Fuck
,” he roared, and punched the bag blindly. He just missed knocking his lieutenant down.

Alex stood gasping for breath while he tried to hold himself together. He ripped the gloves from his hands and bent at the waist; he gripped his thighs, dropping his head as he fought back tears.

At thirty-seven, he was man enough to apologize to his superior, but he was afraid if he opened his mouth he’d break down and cry like a baby.

His heart was breaking and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. Everything was out of his control and he wanted to scream at the whole world.

“Let’s go to my office.”

He nodded.

Straightening, he noticed that two of the guys on his shift stood behind him.

They held his gaze and patted him on the back as he moved past them.

Closing the door behind him, his lieutenant indicated for him to sit in the chair opposite.

He needed to pace, to run even, but instead he dropped his weary ass into the seat offered.

“I’m not going to ask,” his lieutenant wasted no time in starting the conversation. “The reason for that is that I know...Alexander Peterson.”

Alex’s mouth fell open in shock as he stared at his boss.

“There isn’t much I don’t know about everyone under my command.” His lieutenant held up his hand when Alex went to speak. “I’ve known since the minute you stepped foot inside this station. I never judge anyone by his family. Mine weren’t the best. I know from experience and we’ll leave it at that. I should have told you, but I figured if you ever felt the need, then you’d come to me.”

Alex glanced at the door. “Do they know?”

“I take it that you didn’t see the governor’s conference?”

He shook his head. “The news station displayed your photograph. They’re your friends, Alex. Don’t lock them out, especially not now when you’re going to need their support.”

Alex didn’t know what to think or say as he sat and listened. They may still accept him as one of their own, but they presumed his brother was guilty. He needed to be away from the station house—he couldn’t be here and listen to them all talking.

Alex finally found his voice. “I’m going to need some time off. Until after...”

His lieutenant nodded. “After the display I just saw, I have to agree with you. Your leave can start after tonight’s shift, and you call when you’re ready to come back.” He paused giving him a searching look. “I mean that, Alex.”

Alex nodded and looked around his boss’s office. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. No matter what he’s been convicted of, he’s still your brother.” His boss stood and held his hand out to him.

He took the offered hand and shook it.

Moving down to the shower room, Alex didn’t see anyone else, which was just fine because he wasn’t sure he wanted to know what they truly believed about him and his brother. He rubbed his chest where his heart felt heavy with sorrow.

After his shift, he’d sleep and then make a plan of action. He now had time on his hands and he wasn’t going to just sit back and let them execute his brother.

He needed to make one last effort, even if it meant finally coming face-to-face with his past.

7
:00pm

A
s she raced
along the sidewalk toward her father, Saige wanted to close her eyes as tiredness overwhelmed her.

She’d drifted back to sleep the night before with the memory repeating itself and the image of the man in his prison garb flashing in her mind. She needed to know more about him. She was terrified of what she’d remember, but that didn’t outweigh the need burning through her to know.

Spending most of the day curled up in the brown chair with her laptop, she’d found court documents for appeals that had been filed by the man’s defense attorney, Daniel Sterling, but she hadn’t been able to find any quotes from her statement. She’d found quotes from newspaper archives and couldn’t believe what Jocelyn Peterson, the man’s ex-wife, had said.

He’s a violent man…

He loved to use his fists on me…

He was cruel and unrelenting…

I’m glad he’s finally somewhere he can’t get to me.

It had certainly contradicted the comment from his brother, Alexander Peterson.

He is an amazing and loyal brother. I’ll never believe that he’s guilty of the charges he’s facing.

His brother loved him and believed in his innocence, and when Saige looked at photographs of the brothers, she could feel a memory teasing her senses.

But of what?

Saige felt more confused than ever as she stepped into the foyer of the Renaissance Hotel, her thoughts distracted with how to gather more information and from where. She’d start with her father. She’d ask him if he could get her a copy of the statement she gave, and maybe a copy of the trial itself. Because her reaction to the man she saw on the television bothered her—it bothered her a lot.

So with those thoughts heavily on her mind, she entered the restaurant, and found her father pacing five feet in front of her.

When he lifted his head, his eyes softened with relief as he tugged her against him. “Princess,” he whispered against the top of her head, “I was worried.”

“I’m sorry.” She returned his embrace and pulled away when a server appeared in her peripheral vision. “I got lost in some research.”

She winced when her father raised a brow in question. “Research?”

“We’ll talk about it over coffee.”

Saige turned and followed after her father who was being led by the waitress. They were well known here since it was her father’s favorite place and he had a reserved table whenever he stayed at the hotel. It was outside, in the shade, and set a bit away from the other tables. She had to be around people, usually when she was out alone, but she loved this time with her father and loved that he was concerned enough to make small concessions for her. He hated eating outdoors.

“So,” he said, as they were seated. “I’m not sure I can wait until coffee to discover what research you’ve been doing.”

She squirmed under her father’s scrutiny. Sometimes she thought he’d have done well as a lawyer with the way he’d look at her. It was the,
I love you, but you better start talking
, look.

“I don’t want to ruin dinner. We only get a chance to see each other a few times a month.”

He raised a brow and waited for her to answer his original question. He wouldn’t be ignored.

Saige took a sip of water from the crystal wine glass, wondering how to answer without giving her father a heart attack, because he needed some sort of answer. “If I ask you something, will you be honest with me? And promise not to mention anything to Christina. I really don’t want to deal with her right now.”

Her father leaned back in his chair and sighed. “Saige, she’s your stepmother,” he chided softly.

“You know my relationship with her isn’t the best, and it never will be. She’s only ever been concerned about herself.” Saige had his full attention so she continued, “I often wonder why you’re both still married to each other.”

The only sign that she surprised him was the slight lift of both brows.

She hadn’t lied and wondered what her father still saw in the woman. Saige would never come out and say it, but she had a love-hate relationship with her stepmother, and couldn’t stand being around her, which was one of the reasons she finally got the courage to move out. She could have stayed in Port Jude, but then Christina would know every tiny detail of her life. Saige stayed within driving distance for her father when she moved to Tampa, which was about two and a half hours away from Port Jude.

“I don’t know what to say to that.” Her father looked so sad that she reached out and took both his hands into hers and held tightly.

“I love you, Dad, and I’m not blind. You’re too sweet and need a woman who—”

“Loves me,” he finished for her. He shook his head. “I’m not getting into that with you, but I’d love for you to tell me that you finally met a young man.”

“Dad,” she moaned, realizing that as per usual, when the topic of his marriage was brought into the conversation, he deflected. “I’ll let you off this time, but only because I still need to talk to you about something. I don’t think you’re going to like it, either.”

“That’s why you don’t want Christina to know?” He squeezed Saige’s fingers and, letting go, tasted the red wine that had been poured.

He motioned to the waiter to continue filling his glass.

She tried not to fidget under his gaze and succeeded.

“Ask me your questions, Saige?” Although he sat back looking relaxed, she could tell by the twitching of his fingers that he wasn’t.

“Okay, I’ll get it over with and hopefully we can enjoy our dinner afterward.”

“The best idea.” He smiled.

Inhaling, she met her father’s gaze, and said, “The warrant of execution has been issued.”

Her father’s eyes darkened, and with a silent breath he closed them while she watched him get his anger under control. “I know,” he admitted, his voice full of weariness before he averted his gaze.

Saige frowned at her father. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I saw the governor’s press conference last night and planned on telling you today.” He took a long drink of his wine. “I’m sorry, Princess. I should have called. I just know that you don’t watch television, so I figured I had time. Guess I was wrong.”

“It’s okay, Dad,” she reassured him. “Really it is. It was a shock. But that’s what I want to talk to you about.”

He frowned into his wine before nodding his head, and waited for her to get her thoughts in order.

“I need to know what happened.” She took a quick drink of water. “I’m not sure whether I want to remember what happened to me or not, but I need to know about the trial. I need to know what evidence was taken from me, and if I gave a statement. I also need to know what the convicted man said.” She reached out and took her father’s hand into hers. “I need to know why, after all this time, even with his death close, he’s never admitted to killing those girls, or what was done to me. Everything I could find online said he’s never once admitted his guilt.”

Silence descended following her rambling, and her father looked to have aged before her eyes.

“Daddy, please.” She gripped his hand. “Please help me…I’ve put it off for years. I need to know.”

Her father took a few more gulps of his wine until his second glass was empty. “Think very carefully, Saige, because once you start reading about the past, your memory may start to return and I’m not sure how wise that is.”

“Oh, Dad!” Saige moved to sit beside him. “I don’t want
those
memories back but there has always been a chance they’d return on their own and it might not be when I want them to. Regardless of how…or when…if they do return, I’ll have to deal with them. Since I saw the man on TV yesterday, I can’t get him out of my head.”

Her father shook his head. “That can’t be healthy after what he did to you”—his voice broke—“or those other girls.”

She swallowed her hesitation and took a deep breath, she couldn’t put it off any longer, and asked, “But what if he really is innocent?”

She let that sink in, and when her father snapped his head back as though he’d been hit, she continued, “When I saw him on television, I didn’t fear him. Shouldn’t I have felt something like that? Fear, hate, anger? The truth is I didn’t feel anything like that. I had a sense of security. Why did I feel like that if he’s the one? I have questions and I’ve finally woken up and want answers.”

Saige leaned back in her chair and stared at her father. Anger flared in her chest and she couldn’t help but feel irritated with her father and his laid back attitude. While she’d been talking, all he’d done was shake his head as though he didn’t want to hear what she’d said.

“You can’t remember what happened, Saige. Perhaps you saw his photograph and felt sorry for him. If you can’t remember what happened, why would you have felt fear?”

“I don’t remember anything, but deep inside me the memories are there and my subconscious obviously feels safe with him. I need to know why.”

Their usual meal was placed before them, and Saige picked up her fork and started stabbing at the rice. “Did I know the man before I disappeared?”

It was barely noticeable, but her father paused before he carried on eating. She knew he wasn’t hungry and only ate to distract her. It wasn’t going to work on this occasion.

She’d let her family control her knowledge but not for any longer.

“Define know.”

In her confusion, she’d given up on the pretense of eating and glared at her father, wondering where the evasive man beside her had come from. He’d seemed defensive since the moment she’d started asking questions.

“Why are you doing this? I asked a simple question. Did I know Quinten Peterson before I disappeared? It’s a question that requires either a yes or a no. It’s not difficult,” she snapped, realizing she raised her voice in anger. She shook her head. “I don’t understand why you’re reluctant to talk to me about it.”

“Dammit, Saige. Why can’t you leave it alone?”

She sighed. “Because there is a man who has twenty-seven days left on this earth, who has not once admitted his guilt, who I should get a sense of dread from when I see his face. All my questions begin with why and I need them answered. This man is going to die because of me, and I want to make damn sure they have the right person.”

Sitting back, her father sighed warily. “Princess, he went through a trial. His DNA was all over you and the scene of the crime. He was found with one of the other victim’s shirts wrapped around his arm. He was tried, and convicted. Sixteen out of twenty-five jurors agreed that he was guilty. He’s guilty.”

Saige paled hearing about the evidence, but she pushed forward, “What happened to the other nine jurors? Don’t they all have to agree, at least in a death penalty case?”

He shook his head. “No, not in Florida. If there’d been less than ten jurors who voted the accused guilty, then he would have been sentenced to life in prison instead. But it was a supermajority vote, over half of the jurors, so he received the death penalty.”

“There must be reasons why the other jurors didn’t believe he was guilty.” Saige wanted to know what they were.

“Please, Saige,” her father begged. “Don’t start delving into his case. Can’t you leave the past alone?”

She was afraid of her memories coming back from when she’d been taken and of what
he’d
done to her, but she didn’t think she could give up on finding out everything she needed to know about the trial. She also had an idea on who would gladly help her with documents and transcripts, and if she guessed right, he’d probably answer all her questions if she could convince him that she thought Quinten might be innocent.

“Maybe I should.”

Her father visibly relaxed before her eyes. “Thank God, Princess. I sure as hell don’t want you remembering what he put you through. Just leave it in the past.”

She hated lying to her father, but she couldn’t see any other way. Saige folded up her napkin and placed it on the table. “I’ll be right back. The restroom is calling.” She turned to head inside the restaurant, and proceeded to trip over a laptop bag. Catching herself on the table, she glanced at the guy sitting there. “I’m sorry.”

“No”—the stranger with dark penetrating eyes quickly lifted the bag to the chair beside him—“I shouldn’t have left it in the way. My apologies.”