Jimmy was quiet for a moment, then he motioned toward his office. They walked in, and he shut the door and closed the louvered blinds to conceal their conversation from any other curious eyes that might be watching in the station house.
“Look, I don’t know if this is my place, but you and I have been around the block together a few times, from our days at the academy together to our time in the same division in San Antonio. I respect you more than just about any detective on my force and you know I’d hire you here in an instant if you ever decided to come back to the job.”
“I appreciate that. Just be straight with me, Jimmy.”
“I’ll just remind you who calls the shots around here when it comes to prosecutions. Bruce Gibson. That’s not helping the situation for Frannie, especially when she’s refusing to say anything about what happened.”
Ross gazed at the other man as the implications sunk in. Bruce Gibson was the district attorney—and a particularly vindictive one at that. He was the one who chose when charges would be filed and what those charges would entail. Even if the police department wanted to pursue other leads, a district attorney could make the final choice about whether they had enough evidence to go forward with a prosecution.
And he had been one of Lloyd’s closest friends, Ross suddenly remembered, had practically grown up at the Frederickses’ mansion.
Gibson would be out for blood—and it would be a bonus to the man if he could extract a little of that blood from the Fortunes. Gibson had made no secret of the fact that he thought the Fortunes were too wealthy, too powerful. He was up for a tough re-election battle in the fall and from all appearances, he seemed to be making an issue of the fact that he considered himself a man of the people and wouldn’t let somebody’s social status sway prosecutorial decisions.
Added to that, there was no love lost between Ross and Bruce Gibson. Just a few weeks earlier, he and Ross had exchanged words over an incident involving a stable fire on the family ranch and the way the family was choosing to investigate it privately.
What a tangled mess. Any other district attorney would see how ludicrous this whole thing was.
“Can I see her?” he asked.
Caldwell gave him a long, appraising look, then finally nodded. “It’s past normal visiting hours but we can make an exception in this case. It might take a few moments, though. She’s in central booking.”
Perhaps half an hour later, Ross was finally ushered by the young, fresh-faced police officer he had seen earlier on the murder scene to a stark white interview room. Frannie looked up when the door opened and Ross had to stop from clenching his fists again at the sight of her in a prison-orange jumpsuit.
Since his sister’s ill-fated marriage to Fredericks years ago, he had seen her disheartened and hurt, he had seen her hopeless and bleak. But he didn’t think he had ever seen her look so desperately afraid.
The chair scraped as he pulled it out to sit down and she flinched a little at the noise.
“Hey, Frannie-Banannie.”
Her eyes filled up with tears at the childish nickname. “You haven’t called me that in years.”
He was suddenly sorry for that, sorry that while he had never completely withdrawn from his family, he had enjoyed the distance that came from living twenty miles away in San Antonio. He didn’t have to be involved in the day-to-day drama of family affairs, didn’t have to watch Frannie slowly become this washed-out version of herself.
“How are you doing, sis?”
She shrugged. “I guess you know they’re charging me.”
“Yeah. Jim told me. Sounds like Bruce Gibson is on the warpath.”
Her mouth tightened but she only looked down at her hands.
“What happened, Frannie?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“That’s what I hear. But you told them you didn’t do it, right?”
She didn’t answer him. Instead she rubbed the fraying sleeve of the jumpsuit between her thumb and forefinger. “How’s Josh?” she asked.
He sighed at her evasive tactic but decided to let it go for now. “He’s fine. I sent him back to your house.”
“He shouldn’t be alone right now. Is someone with him?”
“Julie Osterman is with him.”
“Julie? From the Foundation? Why?”
Because I didn’t want to ask the family to bail us all out once again, he thought but could never say. “She was with me when…everything happened. I couldn’t be in two places at once and I needed help and Julie seemed a good choice since she’s a youth counselor and all, like Susan.”
“Julie is nice.”
Frannie sounded exhausted suddenly, emotionally and physically, and he wanted to gather her up and take care of her.
Those days were gone, though. Try as he might, he couldn’t fix everything. He couldn’t fix her marriage for the last eighteen years. He couldn’t get his young, happy sister back. And he wasn’t at all sure he could extricate her from this mess, though he sure as hell was going to try.
“Ross, I need you to do something for me.”
“Anything. Whatever you need.”
“Take care of Josh for me. Stay with him at the house. I know he’s almost eighteen and almost an adult and will probably tell you he doesn’t need anyone else but I don’t want him on his own right now. Help him through this, okay? He’s going to need you.”
“Come on, Frannie. Don’t worry. You’ll be out before we know it and this will all be a memory.”
“Just help him. You’ve always been far more of a father to him than…than Lloyd.”
“You don’t even need to ask, Fran. Of course I will.”
“Thank you.” She attempted such a forlorn smile it just about broke his heart. “I can always count on you.”
If that were true, she wouldn’t be in this calamity. She wouldn’t have been married to Lloyd in the first place and she wouldn’t be facing murder charges right now, if he had been able to rescue her from the situation years ago, like he’d wanted to.
“We’ll get the best attorney we can find for you, okay? Just hang in.”
She nodded, though it looked as if it took the last of her energy just to make that small gesture. He had a feeling in another minute, his baby sister was going to fold her arms on the interrogation room table, lay her head down and fall instantly asleep.
“Get some rest, okay?” he advised her. “Everything will seem better in the morning, I promise.”
She managed another nod. Ross glanced at the officer who was monitoring the visit, then thought, to hell with this. He pulled his sister into his arms, noting not for the first time that she seemed as fragile and insubstantial as a stained-glass window.
“Thanks, Ross,” she mumbled before the guard pulled her away and led her from the room.
The Spring Fling seemed another lifetime ago as Ross drove the streets of Red Rock toward the house where Frannie and Lloyd moved shortly after their marriage.
The security guard at the entrance to their exclusive gated community knew him. His fleshy features turned avid the moment Ross rolled down his window.
“Mr.