Love, Lies & The D.A. (15 page)

Read Love, Lies & The D.A. Online

Authors: Rebecca Rohman

“You
two have quite the situation on your hands, don’t you? There’s more chemistry
between you and that man than you ever had with Richard on the three separate
occasions I spent with you two.”

“That’s
probably because he had chemistry with other women.”

She
stops laughing. “I’m so sorry about that, Sweetie. But after witnessing you
with that Jonathan tonight… You’re in quite a dilemma. I’ll be praying for
you.”

“Thanks,”
I reply sarcastically.

Caressing
my shoulder, she says, “Sweetie, I love you. At the end of the day, all I want
is for you to be happy, one way or another. This will all work out.”

I
smile at her but say nothing further. I know she’s right. Only some sort of
divine intervention could make this work.

We
arrive at the airport, and thankfully, saying goodbye didn’t turn into a drama.

It’s
after nine when I leave. I stop at a traffic light, and in the rear view
mirror, I notice a dark colored SUV behind me. The road is mostly quiet. The light
turns green, and I proceed to head home. Five minutes later, I notice the same
vehicle behind me. Ten minutes, and the same. I feel uncomfortable for some
reason. I suspect I’m being followed. I decide to take a small detour and stop
outside a restaurant with some patrons in the parking lot to see what happens.
The vehicle continues along the highway. Perhaps I’m being paranoid.

I hit
the road once more. My stomach turns ten minutes later when I realize that the
same vehicle is behind me again. I’m being followed. Pressing the button on the
steering wheel, I call 9-1-1.

“9-1-1,
what is your emergency?”

“Hi my
name is Jada McLean. I’m driving south bound on West Lake Boulevard, and I
think I’m being followed.”

“What
color and make of vehicle are you driving, Ma’am?”

“A
silvery green Aston Martin DB9.”

“And
can you see the make of the vehicle following you?”

“I can’t
identify the model, but it’s a dark colored Chevy, probably navy or black…
maybe a Chevy Tahoe or something like that.”

“Can
you give me an exact location of where you are right now?”

“I
just stopped at a light. I’m at the corner of Lincoln Highway and Lake Tahoe
Boulevard. Oh God. They’re revving their engine behind me.”

“Don’t
panic. I have a trouper nearby, and they’re heading your way.”

I look
in the rear view mirror and can see the police car approaching. Seconds later,
I hear screeching tires and the SUV overtakes me, runs the red light through
the intersection, and takes off. Before I know it, another police car stops
behind me.

Two
officers, one male and one female, check to see if I’m okay. They then escort
me to the station to take a report. After, I head home, accompanied by police.

As
I enter the house, my phone rings. Not my cell phone or my
Bobbyphone
,
but the landline at the house. I never use that phone. I don’t even know the
number. I look at the screen and recognize the Lake Tahoe area code.
Hesitantly, I answer.

“Hello.”

“Jada?”

“Who’s
this?”

“It’s
Jonathan.”

I sigh
in relief.

“What’s
wrong?”

“Nothing.
How did you get this number? I don’t even know this number.”

“Something
called reverse lookup.”

“Can I
call you back in a minute?”

“Sure…
something’s wrong. What is it?”

“Someone
followed me on the way home after I left the airport.”

“Are
you okay? Did you call the police?”

“I
did. I don’t know if they’ve found the driver, but they escorted me home. I’m a
little anxious.”

“Would
you like me to come over?”

Yes.

“No,
thank you. That’s not necessary. It’s possible that it might be that reporter
from this afternoon…”

“I’m
sorry you’re going through all this. Please take my number down. If anything
happens, don’t hesitate to call me. Call the police first, then me.”

“Thanks,”
I reply, jotting the number down as he calls it out. “Look, I need to make a
phone call. Can I call you back?”

“Sure.”

“What
time do you go to bed?”

“Don’t
worry about that. I’ll wait for your call.”

 

Moments
later, I’m
on the phone with Charles.

“Do
you think a reporter would follow me at that hour for some story?”

“They
might. But I need you to be careful, Jada. We have two investigators on the
case. They may have uncovered some important evidence and might not even be
aware of the meaning of it. We could be getting close to something. If that
something is information that the killer doesn’t want uncovered, that might put
you in danger.”

“Oh my
God.” I can’t stop trembling.

“I’m
not telling you this to scare you. That may have very well been the reporter.
Nevertheless, be vigilant. Any incident that happens, I want you to report it
to the police. Get copies of the reports as well.”

“Okay,”
I whisper.

“Jada,
I didn’t intend to scare you. We don’t know what Richard was involved in. But
he being murdered, especially the way he was killed, is a sign that these
people are dangerous.”

“Do
you think I should leave Lake Tahoe?”

“Not
tonight, it’s too dangerous. This person may be watching you from close by.
Wait. Let’s see what the police come up with over the next few days. If it’s a
nosey reporter, he’s looking for a good story. Anything else and I’d advise you
to leave for good.”

“Fine.
I’ll call you tomorrow. Hopefully, the police will come up with something, and
it’s not a big deal.”

 

Twenty
minutes later,
after I check the doors and the alarm probably
a hundred times, I lock myself in my room then take a long shower. I’m scared.
I hate that I don’t feel safe and secure here anymore. I feel like, regardless
of what the police say, I’m going to prepare to make a move soon.

I’m
done with my shower. After I slip into a pair of jean shorts and a sweatshirt,
I call Jonathan. While waiting on the phone for him to answer, my doorbell
rings.

“Jada,
it’s Jonathan,” his voice rings through the door.

Oh my
God. What’s he doing here?

I
double-check myself in the mirror, fixing a few lose strands of hair before
heading to the door.

“Hi.
What are you doing here?”

“It’s
been over an hour. I thought something might have happened to you.”

“I’m
sorry. My conversation went longer than planned. I was calling when you knocked
on the door.”

I’m
nervous by his presence, but I still let him in. I must admit, I do take
comfort in the fact that he’s here with me. I’m afraid that whomever it was
that followed me knows where I live, and they will come after me.

“Would
you like something to drink?”

“Sure.
Coffee. It’s cold outside.”

“I’ll
put on a pot. Have a seat.”

“Nice
place.”

“Thanks,”
I reply, walking into the kitchen and preparing the coffee. He sits across from
me at the island.

“Do
you feel better?”

I
laugh nervously. “Not particularly. You never got around to telling me why you
called.”

“I
wanted to make sure you got home ok… I wanted to be sure it wasn’t like the
last time.”

I feel
a flicker of warmth in my chest.

“Thank
you. That was kind of you, but I’m fine.”

He’s
being sweet and caring, but I’m not sure I can trust him, and even if I could,
I could never be honest with him about my life—All ingredients for a sure way
not
to start a relationship, even a friendship.

I’d
love it if I had the guts to kiss him with no consequences or repercussions,
but the truth is, I can’t. Because of this, I don’t see how it could benefit
either of us to continue stringing the other along.

I pour
us each a cup of coffee and sit next to him at the island.

“You
didn’t sound fine on the phone earlier,” he says.

“I
admit I’m a little on edge, but I think under the circumstances, that’s
normal.”

“Do
you have anyone here to look out for you?”

“I’m a
big girl… I can take care of myself.”

“Even
big girls every now and then need to be taken care of.” He smiles.

“You’re
quite the flirt,” I reply. I would like to indulge him, but I know I can’t.
“Look, Jonathan, I’m really grateful to you for coming all this way, but I
think it’s a bad idea for us to be meeting like this.”

“You
don’t feel you can trust me?”

“No. I
don’t. And even if I did, because of who you are… I could never feel free to be
honest around you. I find myself watching every word I say when you’re around.”

“What
if I told you, you could trust me?”

“It
wouldn’t make a difference. You’re still the District Attorney, and I’m still a
murder suspect. In my eyes, you and the police are one.”

“Jada,
no charges have been filed against you,” he responds. “Your case hasn’t even
reached my desk yet, and there is a possibility it never will.”

“Is
that in some way supposed to make me feel better?”

He
ignores my question. “I’m very attracted to you, and I want to get to know you
better. My gut tells me you feel the same way.”

I’m
astonished that he’s admitted that to me. A volcanic eruption goes off in my
chest. My heart is pumping so hard, I’m certain he can hear it. He’s mere
inches away from me.

I
barely look him in the eye.

“What
I feel is irrelevant. For all I know, you could be helping the police collect
evidence against me right now.”

He
tilts his head to the side. “Do you honestly believe that?”

“No.
But until I am no longer a suspect, I have to be careful with everyone. I can’t
trust anyone—especially you. And I’m not saying this to be a bitch or to be
mean… it’s just the reality of the situation we’re in.”

The
silence is deafening, and as I look at him, I can’t believe how disappointed I
feel. I feel like I am ending a relationship, but one that never started.

I
continue. “You know what? Even if everything you said were true. I can’t. Not
now. It’s too soon after Richard’s death.”

“If he
were alive, would you feel the same?”

“I don’t
know… I don’t think so. I’d probably still ha—”

And
just like that, I have to stop myself. Because I realize I was about to say
something he could use against me.

“Jonathan,
I’m sorry. I can’t do this. You have to go.”

He
gazes at me then looks down to the floor. His face is serious, and I can tell
he’s disappointed.

I walk
to the door, and he follows me.

“Thank
you for coming to check on me. I really do appreciate you doing this.”

“It
was no problem at all,” he replies, standing within inches of me. “Jada, please
call me if anything goes wrong.”

“Thank
you. I promise—I’ll think about it,” I say, opening the door. Immediately after
it is ajar, I hear the loud sound of glass breaking. Jonathan quickly pulls me
out of the way.

“Stay
here. Let me go check to see what that was.”

“Jonathan,
please be careful,” I say as he steps outside. I can’t stop shivering, and it’s
not because I’m cold. Who’s after me, and why? I nervously chew the corner of
my thumbnail. I’m worried something might happen to him. He returns moments
later.

He
holds me by my shoulders.

“No
need to panic. Some icicles just broke off the roof. It’s a little windy
tonight.”

I’m
happy to hear that, but I’m jumpy. And after what happened earlier, it’s hard
for me to shake off the nerves.

“Thank
God,” I eventually reply.

“It
will be okay,” he says, giving me a gentle hug.

He
leans forward and kisses me tenderly on my cheek. And there it is; that intense
energy, that pull, has returned. He smells fantastic. It feels great to be
folded in his arms. I’m tempted. So tempted. I’m dying to be kissed by him. I
inch my head slowly. I kiss his cheek then the corner of his mouth. His hands
surround my face. When I realize what we’re about to do, I immediately pull
away.

“I’m
sorry… Jonathan, I’m sorry. You have to go. Thanks for everything.” I step
away.

He
gazes at me intently for a few moments then steps outside. I don’t wait for him
to respond. I quickly shut the door. Moments later, I look through the glass
doors as he drives away.

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