Jeremiah
“That’s great, Elle. I’m so happy for you.” Relief washed over me as she announced her intention to run.
“You sure you’re okay with it? I mean, I get that you’d like to step down sometimes, but are you absolutely sure that once all this drama is over with, you won’t regret it?”
I had the phone tucked between my ear and shoulder and was juggling both Amelia and Grace in my arms, rocking the girls who’d only just stopped crying. They’d been fed, changed, and were simply fighting sleep. Elle’s question sounded even more ridiculous considering the context, but I didn’t laugh.
“Trust me, it has nothing to do with this stupid scandal. I’m just not cut out for public office. You’re much better suited for this than me.”
“I guess so. I just feel bad.”
“You shouldn’t.” There was a knock at the door. “Hey, I have to go? I think Sam might be stopping by, and I’ve already got my hands full.”
“Alright. Talk to you later”
I wanted to ask her to come over but decided against it. I’d call her back later. Right now, I needed to get off the phone and deal with Sam.
I put the babies down in their pack and play and hung up the phone as the knocking continued.
“Sam, you’re really early, hold on.”
“FBI, open up.”
I froze just above Amelia’s crib.
FBI? A moment of panic was followed by a reminder from my brain to calm down. It could be anything, I reminded myself. Maybe they had more questions. Something in my gut told me it was more than that.
I didn’t even remember walking over to the door, but I opened it. And the next few moments happened so fast, I felt like it couldn’t be real.
“Jeremiah Jenkins.” An agent held up his federal badge. “You’re under arrest for extortion, bribery, money laundering, and murder.”
“What? No,” I argued. “I’m innocent.”
The federal agent had handcuffs ready if I wasn’t willing to go on my own accord. All I could think about were my girls in the other room.
“Please, I need someone to call Eleanor Schaeffer to take care of my girls,” I said. “I’ll go with you, no need to cuff me. Just make sure my girls are taken care of, that’s all I ask.”
Teddy stepped into the house, and I was relieved. Finally someone I could trust. “I’ll call Elle,” he promised, patting me on the back with an apologetic glance. “And I’ll personally wait here until she arrives.”
I nodded. “Thank you.” It was the best I could hope for. I knew I couldn’t fight it. I had to do what the agents wanted me to do.
Even if this was a mistake.
My heart broke. I didn’t want to walk out of that house, I wanted to wait for Elle. But I knew I had to go freely or they’d cuff me and tack on resisting arrest.
Not in front of the girls. Even if they wouldn’t remember it, I’d never forgive myself.
I dragged my feet, but I walked out the door surrounded by both sheriff deputies and Feds. They read me my rights, but it was all a blur. I knew my rights well enough to know one thing.
“Call my lawyer. I won’t speak without my lawyer present.”
One of the other deputies nodded. “Sam will meet you at the station.”
Dickinson, the agent who’d interviewed me earlier, scoffed. “Small towns. The corruption runs deep.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” the deputy, a young man named Henry, asked. I knew Henry, had watched him grow up in town. He was a good kid who turned into a good man, but he did have a smart mouth on him. Always did. He didn’t take shit from anyone.
“It means, everyone knows everyone. Can’t trust the local law to not be involved in the shit,” Dickinson said. “Which is why we’re here.”
Dickinson shoved me into the back of a police car and slammed the door. I couldn’t hear what else was said between Henry and him, but it didn’t really matter.
None of them were involved in this, none of them were protecting me.
I was innocent.
But I no longer felt hopeful about the truth setting me free.
Ooo000ooo
Agent Dickinson tossed a file down in front of me. Sam, of course, grabbed it and looked it over first. I stared straight ahead at the detective without saying a word.
“Can you explain that?”
“Explain what?” Sam asked. “It looks like the same financials you had before.”
“It is, except we traced the source for some of those transactions. We discovered an offshore bank account belonging to the Pearson family, and as hard as they tried to keep it a secret, the truth finally came out. And it’s the one shown sending large sums of money in and out of the city coffers.”
Sam closed the file and sighed. “My client didn’t handle the financials. James Fitzhenry was the treasurer. He controlled money that came in and out of that account.”
“But your client oversaw the accounts, didn’t he?”
“He did…” Sam hesitated, but then cleared his throat and continued. “My client trusted James Fitzhenry and didn’t monitor them as well as he should have. Jeremiah took over the job as mayor from his father, with no prior experience, and he relied on help from other departments, trusting Fitzhenry and others to run their own departments with very little oversight.”
Looking back, yes, I’d screwed up. But I had never asked to be mayor. I did the best I could, and Sam was right – I had trusted James. He seemed like a good, honest man. The people trusted him. So did I.
“Well then, why would Fitzhenry come forward and give Jeremiah up, saying he forced him to handle that cash flow without telling him where it went or where it came from? And why is he dead now? Oh, that’s right, you should keep looking in the file. Autopsy came back.”
Sam picked the file back up and flipped through the pages in it. His face turned as white as a sheet. “I need to speak with my client alone.”
“Have at it,” Dickinson said, the sound of his chair on the concrete floor was like nails on a chalkboard, but I was so relieved that he was leaving, if only for a moment.
When the door shut behind him, Sam turned to me. “The body was James Fitzhenry,” he said slowly.
My heart ached for the guy. He wasn’t a bad guy or my father wouldn’t have trusted him as much as he had. Whatever his role in the crimes, I was certain it wasn’t uncoerced.
Sam continued. “And it wasn’t suicide. He was shot in the back of the head before his car was driven into the lake.”
“Shit.”
“You’re a hunter, right, Jeremiah?”
“I am, but I haven’t been hunting in years. What’s that got to do with anything?”
“The gun used was a 270 Winchester.”
“Yeah? It’s a popular hunting rifle. Doesn’t mean it was one of mine.”
Sam nodded. “Do you have a lock on your gun cabinet?”
“I don’t keep them in my home at all anymore. Because of the girls. I don’t want to risk it with them in the house.”
“Where do you keep them?”
“I have a storage locker where I keep my gun safe, but why does it matter?”
“I’m sure the Feds are searching that locker now. And every other piece of property you own.”
“That’s fine. They won’t find a damned thing.”
“Let’s hope not,” Sam said, not meeting my gaze. “Are you sure you’re being honest with me, Jeremiah?”
“Of course I am,” I said. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Because they also found traces of your DNA in James’ car and at his home.”
My heart dropped. “I’ve never been to his house or in his car. Maybe it came off his coat or something.”
Sam didn’t look entirely convinced, but he reached out and patted my arm. “I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation, Jeremiah. If you insist you’re innocent, I believe you.”
“I am innocent,” I said.
But I wasn’t so sure that meant a damned thing anymore.