the seat at the far end of the table, directly opposite me, and quickly surveys the room.
Jud makes the introductions, starting with himself before going around the table. He ends with me. “And this is Detective Tyler Jamison.”
Ms. Franklin nods to me. “Thank you for coming, detective. Your cooperation in this matter is greatly appreciated.”
I smile, but I don’t say anything. It’s not like I had a choice in the matter.
“Do you have representation?” she asks me. “Besides the union, I mean.” She nods to Bill Lesko. “Hello, Bill.”
“My attorney is on his way,” I say. “Troy Spencer.”
She smiles. “Ah, yes. I know Mr. Spencer well.”
Before she can say anything else, there’s another knock at the door.
“Come in,” Jud says.
The door opens and in walks Troy, dressed in an Armani suit and carrying a leather briefcase. He walks up behind me and clasps my shoulder. “Hello, Tyler.” Then he takes the seat to my left.
“Perfect timing, Mr. Spencer,” Lydia Franklin says. “I was just about to address conditions for the arraignment.”
“My client has a sterling reputation with the Chicago PD,” Troy says as he opens his briefcase and takes out his notepad. “In fact, he has one of the highest case success rates in the department. He has no priors, and he’s not a flight risk. Therefore, I—”
“Calm down, counsel,” Ms. Franklin says with an amused smile. “No one is suggesting Detective Jamison be detained. I agree he should be released on his own recognizance. He’ll be expected to show up at the courthouse for arraignment tomorrow afternoon, along with counsel, of course.”
As they hash over the details, I check the time. It’s already half past six, and the way Troy and Lydia are posturing, this could go on for a while. I told Ian I’d be home at six. He’s going to worry when I don’t show.
“Do you mind if I make a personal call?” I ask, addressing the room at large.
“Go right ahead, Tyler,” Jud says.
I step away from the table, turning my back on the discussion, and call Shane. I debated calling Ian first, but I don’t want him to be alone when he gets the news. He’s going to be upset when he finds out, and I want someone there with him. Someone like my sister.
“Tyler,” Shane answers on the second ring. “Troy’s already notified me. I know charges are in process.”
“I don’t know how long I’ll be at the station. Ian’s going to worry when I don’t come home.”
“It’s already taken care of. Sam and Beth are on their way to your place now. Don’t worry about Ian. They’ll stay with him until you get home.”
I’m flooded with relief. “Thank you.”
I return to the table just in time to hear Troy’s question to Lydia Franklin. “So, what are you thinking?”
Lydia clasps her hands in front of her and eyes Troy first, then me. “Given the severity of Mr. Turner’s injuries, and the length of his hospitalization, I’d say we’re looking at aggravated battery.”
“That’s bullshit,” Troy says, shaking his head. “My client—”
I tune the rest out. Aggravated battery is a felony in the state of Illinois. That means I’d be facing, at minimum, a two-year prison sentence, with no chance for probation. My stomach drops. The prospect of serving real time behind bars has suddenly gotten more likely.
I feel sick, and all I can think about is Ian.
Chapter 17
Ian Alexander
Tyler’s late.
He’s never late.
And he hasn’t called or texted.
I pace the living room, periodically glancing out the window that overlooks the driveway, watching for his BMW. He should have been home forty minutes ago. We have plans to grill steaks tonight on the roof. If he were going to be late, he would have called me.
As my anxiety soars, I keep telling myself to calm down.
So what, he’s late. It’s no big deal.
Maybe he got stuck in traffic.
Maybe he was assigned to a new case and hasn’t had a chance to call.
Or, maybe he’s been arrested.
Feeling lightheaded, I drop down onto a chair by the window and work on controlling my breathing. Hyperventilating won’t help. And the last thing I need right now is a full-blown panic attack.
As I run through the list of reasons why he might be late, I hear a car pull into the drive. “Oh, thank god.”
I jump to my feet expecting to see Tyler’s car in the driveway. But it’s not his car. It’s a shiny black Escalade. I stand frozen in place as I watch Sam help Beth step down from