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Nate groaned. “Real sensitive, Nash.”
But Jamie laughed, the sound more precious to Dillon than anything he owned. If Jamie was laughing, then he probably wasn’t going into shock, thank God. “It’s okay, Nate. I’m fine, just a little shaky.” He reached across the table and took Dillon’s hand. “I guess our little league coach was wrong, huh? I can hit the broad side of a barn.”
Dillon grasped his fingers, and Brandon said, “I guess now would be as good a time as any to tell me what happened. Like I said, Chief Skinner is giving me time to get all this settled, but the sooner we deal with it the better.”
Nate gave them both a pat on the back and then, indicating his scrubs-clad body, said, “I just got home from work, so I’m gonna go upstairs and shower. Sasha’s still penned up in the sun-porch, so you shouldn’t be disturbed.”
Dillon and Jamie both nodded as Nate left, and Brandon walked across the room to one of the far cabinets, taking out a mini-tape recorder and coming back to claim a seat at the table. Placing the recorder in the center, he said, “I’m gonna tape this as we go, so be sure not to leave anything out.”
Dillon went first, going over every detail be could remember, from the opening of the door to his near-injection by Dr. Henderson. Jamie picked up the story then, telling how he heard Dillon arguing with his parents and about Henderson’s promise to have Dillon locked up. He went on to talk about grabbing Dillon’s old bat from the closet. He even told Brandon and the tape recorder about where the idea came from. Brandon only nodded, having gotten the rundown on that story from Mitch late the night before. As soon as Jamie finished, Brandon pressed the stop button and turned to Dillon.
“So you never actually asked your parents to come inside?”
Dillon shook his head. “My mother just sorta barged in when I opened the door. The other two followed her inside.”
Brandon nodded. “Sounds like self-defense to me. Jamie was doing what it took to defend his partner within the confines of his own home. I can’t see any D.A. in his right mind bringing Jamie up on charges for that.”
The word “charges” had Jamie gasping for breath. “Am I going to need a lawyer, Brandon? You never did tell us if we needed one.”
The backdoor swung open just as Jamie was asking the question, and Dillon heard the clattering of high-heels across the floor of the mudroom. A honey-sweet voice said, “Did I hear someone say ‘lawyer?’ Don’t you know that’s a dirty word around most parts?”
Dillon recognized the tiny redhead the minute she came into the kitchen. Alicia Nash Wilton, Brandon’s sister. He’d seen her more than once at the Nash family get-togethers and church dinners Megan had dragged him to. She seemed nice enough, but Dillon knew little about her other than the fact that she was a prosecutor for the D.A.’s office in Chicago. The minute the thought crossed his mind, Dillon’s whole body stiffened. Surely she wasn’t here to file charges against Jamie. No way was he going to let that happen.
Alicia must have seen the look on his face, because she started laughing, the sound so much like Megan’s laughter that Dillon relaxed in spite of himself. “Calm down, Dillon. I was just teasing about ‘lawyer’ being a dirty word.” She gave her brother a kiss on the cheek. “Sheesh. Talk about a tough room.”
Dillon blushed. “Sorry about that. Jamie and I have had a rough evening.”
Alicia nodded. “That’s why I’m here.” She smiled at Jamie. “I heard the question you asked my brother, and the answer is no. You don’t need a lawyer. You’ve got me.”
{To Be Continued}
