Imperfect Justice by Olivia Jaymes Page B

I leave. I have a bunch of packing still to do.”
    “I’ll help you with that. We’ll have it done in no time.”
    The waitress slid the slab of caramel apple pie in between them. Two scoops of vanilla ice cream melted on top leaving a milky pool on the plate. The strong aroma of apples and cinnamon wafted around Misty’s nose and her stomach heaved in her abdomen. Eyes watering, she tried to pretend she wasn’t bothered.
    She failed.
    “Holy crap, are you okay? You look positively green.” Rayne looked down at the plate of apple pie and ice cream. “Since when does apple pie make you sick?”
    “It’s not,” Misty denied, although she couldn’t even look at the plate. The ice cream had melted even more and was mixing with the caramel into some sort of milk soup that turned her stomach until bile was in the back of her throat. “I’m fine.”
    “You’re not fine. You’re the color of a Martian from outer space.” Rayne’s gaze never wavered from Misty’s face. “You really are sick, aren’t you? I think we need to get you home and into bed. The sooner you start resting up the sooner you’ll get better.” Rayne signaled for the check and began to gather her purse and gloves. “Let’s head home and I’ll make you a nice cup of herbal tea. That should settle your stomach. You must be coming down with the flu.”
    A feeling of dread settled in Misty’s chest. She’d been staring at her calendar every single day since that night with Jared. Waiting.
    “Can we make a stop first?” Misty asked, her voice quavering with emotion.
    “Sure, where do you want to go?” Rayne paid the bill – it was her turn – and pulled car keys from her purse.
    “A drug store. Preferably one out of town where no one knows me.”
    Rayne’s brows were furrowed but then understanding crossed her features. “Oh God. Are you sure?”
    “No.” Misty shook her head, feeling miserable but not from the smells any longer. “It’s just a hunch. It’s early yet. But apple and cinnamon has never made me nauseous before.”
    “The sooner you find out for sure the better. Let’s go,” Rayne said brusquely. “Everything is going to be alright.”
    If Misty’s suspicions were true, nothing would ever be the same again.

    Lindsey Hicks looked completely different from the woman Jared had seen in the courtroom five years ago. Then her hair had been long and lifeless, her body stick thin, and her face pale and gray. She’d had a perpetually sullen look that had struck Jared as almost petulant as she’d sat there during Boyd’s trial. When the verdict had come down, she’d walked out of the courtroom without a look back at her husband.
    The woman before Jared today didn’t have much in common with the former female. Dark hair was trimmed and styled so it curled around her chin. Her face was carefully and skillfully made up and her body was no longer emaciated. In khaki pants and an argyle sweater she looked every inch the happy housewife in a middle-class suburban neighborhood.
    Lindsey sat across from Jared in the comfortable living room decorated in green and gold. There were pictures of a small young girl on the mantle which he knew from his research was the daughter Tilly who was currently in foster care. He’d also learned that Lindsey had a court date coming up to try and regain custody of her daughter. Currently she was only allowed supervised visits.
    “So how can I help you, Sheriff?”
    “I appreciate you talking with me, Mrs. Hicks. As you know I’m here to talk about your ex-husband Boyd.”
    “Jackson,” she corrected, her posture going stiff. “It’s Lindsey Jackson now. And as I told you on the phone, I’m not sure how I can help you. I haven’t seen Boyd in years – not since his sentencing.”
    Jared pulled out a small notebook and a pen. “You didn’t talk to him on the phone or visit him?”
    “No, by the time Boyd was sentenced I knew I needed to get clean. I knew I couldn’t do that if