The headlines arrayed on her aunt’s kitchen table made it hard for Carly to breathe. She’d already seen the local morning news on several channels before she turned them off in frustration and anger. But seeing the words in print had more impact. Nothing she read or didn’t read, saw or didn’t see, would change the immediate and disastrous fact: Noah had been arrested for arson.
According to all the sources, other charges were pending.
She did wish that she hadn’t been identified as the woman who’d saved Noah Glover’s life. That made for a whole other source of calls and texts from friends who wanted to know if she was okay. The trouble was, she wasn’t quite sure how she felt, other than annoyed as hell. Especially since one headline referred to her past, as if it had anything to do with the fact she’d saved a man’s life.
Luckily, Noah’s sister had called to warn her that Noah had been arrested—and made bail—and that the story was about to go public in a big way.
Even as she packed her bags to leave her apartment, Carly fielded and turned down half a dozen requests to be interviewed by local media. How they knew where to find her she couldn’t figure out, until one reporter reminded her that her phone number and address were on the statement she’d made to the police. Someone had leaked it. That fact sent her to her aunt’s home, where she’d spent the night.
The media weren’t being as aggressive at a local judge’s residence. They’d stayed behind her gate once Jarius’s police cruiser came up the drive.
“Look at this.” Fredda Wiley pointed to an article lower down the page in Section B of the Fort Worth Star Telegram. “‘According to one source who asked not to be identified, Glover has had a difficult year. First with the death of a firefighter friend killed when a wall of a building collapsed in a fire. And then the death of his ex-wife.’”
“What?” Carly snatched the paper from her aunt. She scanned the article so quickly it took her three times before her eyes would adjust so that the words made sense. Jillian Tilson, the former Mrs. Noah Glover and recently divorced for the second time, died of a drug overdose eleven months ago. She was reported to have been despondent over the break-up of her second marriage and was abusing prescription painkillers as a result.”
“Did you know about this?” Aunt Fredda was watching her closely.
Carly shook her head. “I know he’s divorced. And that he has custody of his son, Andy. I don’t know the details.” She felt bad lying to her aunt. But this was something Noah hadn’t been able to tell his own son. It felt wrong to share his confidence. But now it was spread over the media, as if it had any relevance. Poor Noah. No wonder he’d tried to protect his family by urging them to leave town.
Fredda took the paper back and finished reading the piece. “I’d be despondent, too, if someone took my child from me. However, there must have been extenuating circumstances with the wife to award custody to the father.”
“His ex didn’t want to be a mother. She walked out on them when Andy was two months old and never came back.”
Fredda lifted her reading glasses to her brow. “I thought you didn’t know the details?”
Carly shrugged. “I know he didn’t do what he’s accused of.”
Aunt Fredda leaned toward her. “I understand you like the man, Carly. But don’t confuse attraction with reality. There are some serious charges laid out here.”
Carly folded her arms, annoyance breaking through her natural respect for her relative. “Haven’t you said before that you have a sixth sense about many of the young people who come before you in court?”
“Yes, but I don’t usually have feelings for the people who come before me.”
“I need some air.”
Before her aunt could detain her, Carly turned and walked to the back door only to see that the crowd of half a dozen media people parked before the closed gate of her aunt’s property hadn’t budged.
She turned back and nearly plowed into Jarius. He had arrived after midnight and gone straight up to his old room to sleep. She sometimes wondered if he actually lived at his apartment. He was shaved, showered, and dressed in his police uniform complete with utility belt, gun, and radio. In other words, ready for duty.
She looked up at him. “I need to get out of here. Now.”
He evaluated her expression for a moment, and then her attire. She wore a crisp white shirt with the collar up and sleeves scrunched up, jean shorts with rolled hems, and sandals. “You’re kinda casual, cuz. Sure you want to face the horde looking like that?”
She stuck a finger in his chest. “The point, cuz, would be that you get me out of here without the horde knowing about it.
“Right.” He grinned. “Let me grab a protein bar, then I’ll bring the cruiser under the porte cochere and you can slip in.”
A few minutes later Carly was crouched down in the front passenger seat of the police cruiser, half hidden by Jarius’s laptop as he drove through the gates of his mother’s property. He didn’t slow for the reporters. In fact, he gunned the big engine of his cruiser as they turned onto the last thirty yards of the drive.