Framed: A Psychological Thriller (Boston's Crimes of Passion Book 2) (23 page)

It was the same heart that couldn’t take the inevitable breakup.
As soon as he knows the truth.

But the truth was exactly what she needed him to discover. It was the only thing that mattered.

If she had been worldlier, she could have handled this type of sexual relationship, where nothing was expected from either side. She had known when he had kissed her the first time that they shared an intense, mutual attraction.

He lit a fire in her. Made her feel alive with a mere touch…

She leaned up and kissed him. It was all it took to once more forget everything except each other.

With coffee in hand, phone in the other, Kincaid sat on the front porch in one of the rocking chairs. He had just got off making calls. One in particular to Sony. He needed a ride to the prison this afternoon. He wasn’t about to leave Riley without transportation.

He had asked her to come with him, but she had refused. Prisons made her 
nervous
. He understood.

Finishing up his business, he made several calls. One of the first—a call to Cruz. Ellis had vanished into the night before the police arrived. No one in Charleston had seemed to be informed that Ellis was a wanted man.

Certainly, no one was aware of the possibility he was a killer.

The next call went out to Rankin. Kincaid wanted him to be aware that Ellis was in Charleston and was wanted by the FBI. Asked him if he could use his connections to have a couple of uniforms patrol the area.

Kincaid didn’t think Ellis knew of this place, but he didn’t want to take a chance on Riley’s safety.

The last call was to McNeil to make sure all the arrangements were set for his interview with Taylor. Finished, he set his phone down and stared out at the sunrise.

The sun climbed over the horizon with the promise of another scorcher. But the morning air was perfect for breakfast and contemplating his day.

Reluctantly, he had to agree this was a great place for Riley to hide away. The cabin was secluded, yet protected. The long driveway was the only way in and the entrance was gated. A security system was also in place.

The house itself was charming and rustic, with vaulted ceilings. The furniture and antiques gave it the country feel, quaint and comfortable. In a different circumstance, it would have been the perfect getaway.

He waited now for Riley. She was showering. Then the time would come to talk.

Last night, he had lost control as he did every time he was around the woman. The stubborn, obstinate…beautiful, desirable woman.

When he had gotten the call from Sony, he couldn’t get there quick enough. If anything had happened to her…

The realization hit him this morning—he was in love with Riley Ashcroft.

She loved him, too. If she thought he would ever forget her whispering into his ear when he was wounded, she was sadly mistaken. He hadn’t a clue why she was pushing him away, but he was bound and determined to find out.

“It’s beautiful out here, isn’t it?”

He glanced over his shoulder. Riley stood on the threshold of the sliding glass door. Her hair looked toweled-dry. She had let it grow longer. It curled and framed her face, making her hazel eyes look enormous.

“I was just thinking how peaceful it seems.” He placed his coffee down and stood. “You want to talk?”

“Honestly, no,” she said, but stepped out on the porch anyway. “I would rather leave things as they are.”

He raised his eyebrows. “And that would be?”

“Why do you want to press this? Don’t we have enough to worry about than to analyze the hell out of our attraction for each other?”

“I thought we were working together on figuring out what secrets your family holds…you do remember Harrison Taylor?”

“Yes, I 
remember
 Harrison Taylor very well.” Instantly, she went on the defensive. Her voice tensed and turned icy.

“Then talk to me. Tell me why you ran.”

“Someone was trying to kill me.”

“Exactly,” he pressed, grinding his teeth together. “Don’t you think I would have done anything to protect you? I could have—”

“You almost died.” Her trembling hand covered her mouth and then she admitted, “I ran…I ran back to my home.”

“Here in Charleston. So what is Boston to you?”

She lowered her gaze and shrugged. “Are you really asking what you are to me?”

“If I am, don’t you think I have a right to know?”

“I can’t do this. Not now.”

She took a step back, but he would have none of it. He caught her by her shoulders.

“I can. I can tell you exactly where I stand.” He cupped her face in his hand. “I love you.”

As simply as he said the words, he kissed her. Somewhere in the moment, she kissed him back and wrapped her arms around his neck.

This was what he wanted. This was right, what they had. He had never had this feeling before or felt something so intensely.

Abruptly, the moment ended. A car drove up the drive. Sony had come to take Kincaid to his appointment with Harrison Taylor at the prison.

Frowning, he released Riley. “When I get back, we will continue this discussion.”

He watched her nod. Befuddled, he walked down the steps to the waiting Sony.

He thought with his proclamation of love, the wall she had erected around her heart would crumble. It hadn’t.

Matter of fact, she seemed more distressed. Just when he thought their relationship couldn’t get more complicated, it took a turn to downright confusing.

* * * *

Kincaid never liked doing interviews in prison. Barbed-wire fences, armed guards, the clanking of the gates. The inmate interviewed was always trying to press his own agenda. Moreover, Kincaid found it challenging to get them to focus on his questions.

The warden had allowed the interview to take place in the visiting area. It was quiet, being it wasn’t a visiting day. McNeil had set up the lights and readied to film the exchange. Now, they waited.

The gate clanging shut announced Harrison Taylor’s appearance. Kincaid watched Taylor walk beside the guard through a barred window to the door. Patiently, Taylor stood until the guard uncuffed him. Only then was the door opened and Taylor was allowed entrance.

Kincaid stood and offered his hand. “Good afternoon, Mr. Taylor. I’m Josh Kincaid. Thank you for consenting to this interview.”

The brawny black man nodded and sat. Gone was the wide-eyed innocence of youth Kincaid had seen in photos of the trial. Most notably, Taylor had shaved his head and had a tattoo on his neck. His muscles bulged beneath his prison uniform, giving credence that he spent hours working out each day.

The warden had said Taylor had completed a degree in liberal arts and had helped other inmates with their studies.

“A smart guy. Intelligent. He learned the ropes of prions life pretty quickly. Killing a cop gave him credence with the inmates. He used it to his advantage.” Warden Sheehan grimaced. “Not high on our list of nice guys, but he wouldn’t be here if he was citizen of the year. On the whole, though, he hasn’t given us a lot of trouble.”

Taylor gave him a firm handshake and sat.

“I’ll cut to the chase, Mr. Taylor,” Kincaid began. “Ignore the lights and look directly at me. If you can keep the answers relevant to the questions, I would be appreciative. Short and concise would be the best. Try not to ramble.

“Do you have any questions before we begin?”

“I hope you understand, I don’t do interviews. The only reason I consented to this one was because of my sister.”

Sister? Other than his grandmother, Taylor hadn’t any other relatives. But was he talking of Riley? Did they still consider themselves family?
Kincaid shook his head. 
No, she would have told him. Why would she have kept that from him?

“Josh?”

Dismissing the distracting thought, Kincaid nodded to McNeil and took his seat. “I’m ready.”

McNeil gave him the signal, and then pointed to him to start.

“I would like to get a little background,” Kincaid said to Taylor. “You’re Harrison Taylor, thirty-one-year-old inmate, serving life without parole for the killing of Officer Gregory Steiger. Did you know Officer Steiger?”

“No.”

“Can you explain why you were down in Chicora-Cherokee the evening of April 24th?”

“No.”

Looking up from his notes, Kincaid stared at Taylor, who stared back at him. Kincaid lowered his iPad.

“Did you kill Officer Steiger?”

“No,” Taylor said staunchly.

“If you can’t remember, how do you know?”

“I know! I never did drugs…ever. And I damn sure would never have shot anyone.”

“Why then did you take the plea deal?”

“I didn’t have a choice. It was either the plea deal or the death penalty.”

“Then why did you now proclaim your innocence?”

“I didn’t. Grandma did.”

“You have a lot of people working in your corner now after your grandmother offered the reward. It has called attention to your case. She has worked for years just to find something…anything to set you free.

“I’ve looked over your case and have several questions. I’ll ask you again,” Kincaid pressed. “Why plea out when Jack Ashcroft thought he could win the case hands down? He didn’t seem to have any doubts in your innocence.”

“What would you have had me do? I was just fucking eighteen years old,” Taylor snapped. “I just lost my dad…I had a fuckin’ public defender who didn’t know his head from his ass.”

Kincaid typed something, and then looked back up. “I don’t believe you. You pleaded innocent when Jack Ashcroft defended you. Believed in you.

“You’re right…you were only eighteen. A confident athlete—usually that means arrogant and cocky. Not someone who would have simply given up.”

Taylor offered nothing to Kincaid’s assessment. He held his head in his hands

Then, Kincaid pointed his finger at Taylor. “Are you a loyal person, Mr. Taylor? Jack Ashcroft did a lot for you. Or did you turn your back on the man who raised you? Did you betray him?”

“Stop it!” Taylor demanded. “Stop it. This interview is over.”

The guard stepped toward Taylor. Kincaid shook his head and held his hand up to halt the guard’s progress. Turning his attention back to Taylor, he continued, “Tell me why, Mr. Taylor. Tell me. Because there’s one thing I don’t understand. Why did the district attorney offer you a deal?”

Breathing heavily, Taylor looked up. His eyes burned. “Why are you doing this?”

“I want the truth, Mr. Taylor. Why would the district attorney offer you life when the public wanted you dead? You killed a cop in the line of duty.”

Taylor shook his head and said in a low voice, “Don’t do this.”

“There had to be something. What was it? I ask you because if you think it will stay secret now, it won’t. I know there is something. I’ve been looking into this for a while. I won’t stop looking and I’m not the only one.”

“You don’t know what you are doing.”

“I’m getting at the truth. Why did they make the deal with you?”

A tortured look crossed his face.

“I’m not against you, Mr. Taylor. The more I look into your case, the more I’m convinced a grave error has occurred. I have a copy of the original drug report when you first arrived at the hospital after the shooting.

“Your level of cocaine was high, but did you know that you had a benzodiazepine, one called flunitrazepam, also known as Rohypnol? On the streets it’s called a roofie. It would be suggestive that someone gave it to you.

“You couldn’t have been conscious with levels that high. Which would mean you were unconscious during the shooting. The physical reenactment showed that it was highly improbable that even if you could have fired a gun, you weren’t close enough to have fired the fatal shot.”

Running his hand over his bald head, he asked, confused, “There is evidence of my innocence? Drug levels that confirmed my blackout?”

“Jack Ashcroft was confident he was going to get you off before he died. I don’t think he would have played fast and loose with your life. If he thought you guilty, he would have been trying to make a deal similar to the one you got.” Kincaid took a deep breath. “Tell me why you took the deal.”

Harrison shook his head. “I didn’t know about the report or I wouldn’t have taken the deal. I was told that it came back with cocaine.” He halted and stared directly into Kincaid’s eyes. “Riley said to trust you. Why should I?”

For a moment, Kincaid said nothing. 
Riley had talked to Taylor
. 
What the hell?
Finally, Kincaid nodded. “If you want the truth to come out, then yes. You need to trust me.”

Taylor lowered his gaze, as if remembering caused him pain. “My public defender, Ward Arrington, came to me and told me that if I kept quiet, then the district attorney would offer me life without the possibility of parole. I wouldn’t die.

“Arrington had another lawyer with him. One from the Ashcrofts. I knew him because he had come to see Jack on occasions. Ellis…Ellis Dean. The guy told me that the police had enough evidence to fry me. He suggested I take the deal. I didn’t know what else to do.”

Slowly, the realization swept through Kincaid. The way Ashcroft took care of the boy. Taylor’s slipup—
my dad…my sister
.

“Jack Ashcroft was your father? The Ashcrofts wanted to keep it out of the news so they put pressure on the district attorney…” Kincaid spoke out loud.

Damn it to hell!
 Of course the Ashcrofts did. It would have never done to have a murderer in the family.