My breath caught in my throat as I registered his words. He was out? He couldn’t be. He’d killed Jack. I’d watched him do it. How could he have been released? The trial had only been going for two days.
Ashton gasped. “What the? They released him? How? Why? When?”
My dad sighed. “This morning, less than five minutes ago. They overturned his conviction. He’s been cleared of all charges. Apparently yesterday was a disaster. His lawyers ripped all the previous evidence to shreds, had crime scene experts come in and testify against their own colleagues. Apparently it was ruled that the DNA samples, fibres and fingerprints that they found on Jack’s body were collected incorrectly. There was a risk that they were contaminated, something to do with not using a sterile bag. Because there was a slight chance that they were contaminated, the Judge had no choice but to deem them all inadmissible,” my dad explained.
I closed my eyes. It was just too much to take in. The man who had killed Jack and tortured me for months on end, who had raped me repeatedly and beat me, was free. My husband. He was out. There was no justice. Jack was dead, and Carter, his murderer, was walking off scot-free. That wasn’t right; this wasn’t how it was supposed to be. Tears stung my eyes.
“Anna, are you okay?” Ashton’s hands cupped my face gently, forcing my head up so I had to look at him. His eyes were flashing with anger, but still managed to look at me tenderly, like I was the only girl in the world.
I nodded awkwardly. “I didn’t even get called. Why didn’t they call me in to testify again?” I croaked.
My dad answered that question. “Late yesterday afternoon, Carter’s lawyers also presented some new evidence. I’ve been told this morning that it was some kind of CCTV footage that was date stamped from that night. It showed him half way across town the night it happened. They even had an expert come in and verify it. Without the fibres and fingerprints, it would have been your word against his plus the CCTV footage. That wasn’t enough to continue with the trial. The Judge had no choice but to rule in his favour.” My dad sounded like he’d aged ten years in the last couple of minutes.
Ashton made an angry growling sound in his throat. “What? How the hell can they do that? How the hell can there be CCTV footage?”
I smiled at him sadly; he really had no idea who Carter was. “Carter can do whatever he wants. He has people everywhere; if there’s something he wants, he won’t stop until it’s his. These experts, they can be bought. Hell, he probably had someone in the police tamper with the evidence so it couldn’t be used,” I explained, shrugging.
Ashton looked at me like I had lost my mind. “You’re saying that he paid someone to fabricate some CCTV of him across town to give him an alibi?” he asked, shocked.
“Sure, why not. Hell, I’m surprised it’s taken him this long to get his conviction overthrown,” I replied matter-of-factly.
He shook his head fiercely. “But what about the fact that Anna was there at his house? Doesn’t that prove what she’s saying is the truth? That he killed Jack and kidnapped her? How can they just dismiss that?” Ashton asked, glaring at the phone on the bed.
I gulped. I knew the answer to that, and it was my fault. I hadn’t wanted to press charges; I refused to give any statements about what he did to me because I couldn’t bring myself to talk about it. During the first trial, it was recorded that I refused to make a comment, and Carter’s lawyers claimed that I was there of my own free will, that we met, that it was pure coincidence, that I was drunk that night and confused. They made me out to be some kind of scorned girlfriend that was trying to pin something on Carter as some sort of payback for some undisclosed incident. They even had someone question my sanity. It wasn’t my evidence that secured the conviction; it was the fibres that they found on Jack’s body that put him away for murder. My evidence had just helped; it was never me that made a difference.
“That was ruled last time as inconsequential. What he did to Annabelle was never brought into question, the fact that she was there was marked as coincidence, but it couldn’t be used against him,” my dad explained, skirting around the issue.
“So that’s it, after everything he’s done, he gets to walk away?” Ashton growled. His hands tightened into fists. “You can’t do anything, sir? You’re the President, for goodness’ sake, you can’t let this happen!”
“Son, you need to calm down. I hate this situation as much as you do, but just because I’m in a position of power doesn’t mean that I can break the law! If I force the issue then I’d be no better than he is. My whole campaign was based on truth and justice, I can’t very well force them to hold him if there’s no evidence,” my dad answered, his voice stern and final.
Ashton sighed and closed his eyes, running a hand through his hair, his whole posture agitated and alert. “Sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to suggest…” he trailed off, his hands still in tight fists, his knuckles white.
“I know. Let’s just look to the matter in hand here, shall we?” my dad suggested.
Ashton plopped down on the bed next to me and took my hand. “I won’t let him hurt you, I swear,” he told me fiercely, his jaw tight, his whole body tense.
I smiled sadly. “He won’t hurt me, Ashton; he won’t have the slightest interest in me at all. All he’ll be worried about is getting his power back and showing people he’s back in charge. I wouldn’t be surprised if some big deal’s not being arranged as we speak,” I said honestly. If I knew Carter at all, he’d want to gain his respect back. Respect was always the most valuable thing to him.
Ashton looked at me desperately before turning back to the phone. “Sir, surely it’s time now?”
I raised one eyebrow in question.
My dad sighed. “Yes, I guess it is,” he muttered. I looked up at Ashton, confused about the turn in the conversation. What was it time for? My dad groaned. “Annabelle, Carter’s been sending you letters every week since the time he was arrested.”
Bile immediately rose in my throat. Carter was still interested in me? How? Why? And why the hell would they not tell me this?
“I thought it best to keep it from you at first because you just weren’t coping, then I didn’t want to put any more pressure on you. You were so fragile,” my dad explained quickly, answering my unspoken question.
I glanced up at Ashton’s guilt-stricken face and realised that he already knew about this. Suddenly, everything clicked into place. “This is why Ashton’s here, a SWAT guy. I finally get why he was assigned to me. Carter wants me dead, so you bring in a guy like Ashton to protect me. Now it makes sense,” I said, shaking my head, frowning as the reality of it sank in. I’d always wondered how on earth someone like Ashton could get stuck in a dead-end assignment like this one.
“He doesn’t want you dead, Annabelle,” my dad said grimly.
“Well what does he want?” I asked, confused.
There was silence on the end of the phone for a few seconds and in those few seconds, I think my heart stopped beating. “He wants you back,” my dad answered quietly.
I gasped and jumped out of bed. My body reacted of its own accord. My back slammed against the wall as my eyes darted around the room, suddenly afraid that he would jump out from some darkened corner. Memories of the rapes, the beatings, the isolation, the way he looked at me… all of it rushed back to me at once, making me dry heave. I wanted to scream. I wanted to run. I wanted to hide under the bed and never come out. He wanted me back…
A heavy weight pressed me against the wall tightly. My numb brain came back to the present a little and I realised it was Ashton. He’d pinned me against the wall, his body pressing against mine. It was a protective pose.
“Shh, it’s okay, shh,” he whispered, smoothing my hair away from my face. His hand gripped the back of my neck, guiding my head to his chest. I closed my eyes and listened to his heart, forcing myself to breathe in and out, in and out. My fingers dug into Ashton’s back, and I was sure to be hurting him, but I couldn’t let go.
“You knew but didn’t tell me.” My voice was barely more than a whisper.
His arms tightened around me as he pressed his cheek against the top of my head. “I wanted to, Baby Girl, I promise. It wasn’t my call,” he explained.
My chin trembled as I pulled back, looking up into his eyes. I could see the truth in his words, this wasn’t his idea, this was my father’s half-assed idea of keeping me safe and shielding me from more harm. I took a deep breath. I needed to be strong now. The worry and apprehension on Ashton’s face was enough to make me realise that I needed to get a hold of myself and calm down for him.
“I’m okay,” I lied, willing my shaking voice not to betray me.
He backed away slowly; taking my hand and guiding me back over to the bed. As I sat down, I spotted his T-shirt in a pile on the floor, so I stooped to pick it up and pull it down over my head.
“Sir, are you still there?” Ashton asked, fiddling with the phone.
“I’m here,” my father confirmed, his voice choked and strained.
I sniffed and wiped my face, forcing myself to be strong as I looked down at the phone, wanting answers. “So, what was in these letters? Does he know where I am?” I asked.
My father cleared his throat. “He knows what school you’re at. For the last couple of months, the letters have been sent to the college,” he said, sounding almost apologetic. “I’m sending four more guards over to your location, just to be on the safe side. They should be arriving within the hour. Agent Taylor, do you think you could organise them when they get there? Whatever you feel’s best, I’ve already instructed them to that effect.”
“Yes, sir, of course,” Ashton confirmed in his business tone. He was already planning, I could tell by the look on his face.
“Okay, well if I hear anything else, I’ll call straight away. If you need anything, call me anytime and Maddy will put you straight through,” my dad stated.