Authors: Lynda Bailey
He didn’t look up.
She swallowed the sour taste in her mouth. “A few days
later, Dell got shot and you were arrested. I went to see you in the county
jail, but was told you didn’t want any visitors except your lawyer.”
No reaction.
She willed away more tears. “I know I should’ve written to
you, explaining about Wyatt, but didn’t. I told myself it you probably wouldn’t
have accepted the letter. Truth was, I was afraid. Afraid of how people would
treat Wyatt—and me—if they learned you were his biological dad. The only person
who knew about my pregnancy was Graham, and he never asked who the father was.
He suggested we marry to give Wyatt a name. So we did. And for seven years, I
kept quiet. I lived a lie. I know there’s nothing that’ll ever make up for what
I've done. Just please know how sorry I am for—”
Lynch snapped up his head. The contempt in his eyes
shriveled her heart. “The last thing I want to hear, is how sorry you are.”
Pain, the likes of which she’d never experienced, lanced her
chest. Yet she’d earned Lynch’s wrath. Earned it and more. No way could he
forgive her. Nor should he.
She collected the discarded items from her wallet, stood and
headed for the kitchen.
“I don’t know what your plans are…”
His rusty voice turned her.
Lynch stared at Wyatt’s picture, tracing his thumb along the
edge. “But I want to help…you know…” He looked at her with overly bright eyes.
“…provide for him. Any way I can.”
Shasta’s brain screeched to a halt. “You do?”
“Of course. He’s—” Lynch coughed and sat forward. “He’s my
son.”
She sank onto the sofa. “Aren’t you angry?”
He barked a harsh laugh. “I’m way past angry. I’m fucking
livid.”
“At…me?”
He snapped his gaze to hers. “At you? God no. At myself.” He
shook his head. “I wasn’t there when you needed me.”
Lynch’s fury at himself floored her. “Ummm you got arrested,
remember?”
“No excuse.” He reverently placed the photo on the table.
“Let me know the details about the money, okay?”
“I will. That’s very generous. I don’t what will happen
with Graham’s estate. The government might confiscate everything because of the
federal charges.” She touched his arm. “Thank you.”
He nodded,
She cleared her throat. “I’m not sure if I should ask this,
but does offering to help with Wyatt mean that, someday, you might
consider…forgiving me?”
“Forgive you for what? For making the best out of a fucked
up situation? Christ...I can’t imagine what you went through. How confused you
must’ve been. How scared. Knocked up by the guy accused of shooting your
brother. If anyone needs forgiving, it’s me.”
Shasta’s heart melted into a puddle in her chest. She twined
her fingers with his and smiled. “Tell you what, I will if you will.”
One side of his mouth quirked up. “Deal.”
His eyes darkened to the color of storm-tossed waters and
his grin slowly faded. Her pulse sped up. She licked her lips and his gaze
dropped to her mouth. A groan rumbled in his chest. She leaned forward as her
eyelids coasted closed…
Lynch stood, jumping her backwards.
He wiped his hands on his jeans. “I should go.” He beelined
to the front door.
Shasta leaped to her feet. “Go? Why?”
“Because if I stay, something’s gonna happen between us.”
“And that’s a bad thing?”
He gripped the knob. “You know it is, Shaly.”
He opened the door, but her hand shoved it shut. She
situated herself with her back against the wood, her arms crossed. He shifted
away, wariness in his eyes.
She glared. “Why is it a bad idea?”
“Look, Shaly—”
“Don’t ‘Shaly’ me.” She heaved from her spot and moved
forward. “You just forgave me the world’s biggest sin
and
you said you
loved me. I said I loved you too, in your trailer, in case you forgot.”
He stepped back. “I remember.”
“And knowing that, you’re gonna leave? Just walk out?”
“Ummm…no?”
She poked him in the chest with her finger. “Damn skippy no.
After everything we’ve been through, don’t we deserve the chance to be
together? A chance to be happy? I sure as hell think we do.”
Lynch slanted away from her. “That’s a mistake.”
“Really?” She recrossed her arms. “Give me one reason why”
“I’ll give you two. One, your brother won’t approve.”
“Oh, pffft.” She waved her hand in the air. “Dell has no say
over my life.”
“And what about your son? What’ll happen if Wyatt finds out
I killed his dad—”
“Graham wasn’t his dad. You are.”
Moisture brightened Lynch’s eyes. He ducked his head.
She relaxed her stance and tangled her fingers with his.
“And you didn’t kill Graham. I did.” She tightened her hold. “When Wyatt’s old
enough, he should know everything that happened. He needs to understand the
lengths his dad took in order to protect him—and his mom.”
A tear eked from the corner of his eye. “I…I don’t know what
to say.”
She tripped her fingers up to his shoulders. “Say you love
me.”
He wound his arms around her waist, pulling her close. “I
love you, Shaly.”
She cupped his face and stared deep into his eyes. “And I
love you. Now kiss me like you mean it.”
And he did.
Chapter Thirty
(Epilogue)
Two months later…
“
DISSOCIATIVE
IDENTITY DISORDER
?” Shasta looked up from the file in her hands and met
Emma’s gaze. The agent and her brother sat across the table in the sheriff
department’s conference room. Lynch stood behind Shasta’s chair, reading over
her shoulder. “I don’t know what that means.”
Emma laced her fingers together on the table. “You might
know it as Multiple Personality Disorder.”
Shasta gaped. “You’re saying Graham had a split personality?
Is that a joke?”
Emma shook her head. “I’m afraid not.”
“I was his wife…how did I not know?”
“Because chances are Graham Dupree didn’t know himself.”
Lynch scoffed. “What a crock.” He slouched in the seat next
to Shasta, his thigh press against hers. “Dupree didn’t know what he was doing?
Yeah, right. Imagine me, or any Streeter, using that excuse.”
“It’s not an excuse,” Emma countered. “D.I.D. is a real
disorder where one personality dominates…in this case Ian Blackwell and is
aware of everything. While the other personality…Graham Dupree knows only his
world.”
Lynch grunted again.
Shasta swatted his arm. “Be nice.” She looked back at Emma.
“So that’s why Graham kept saying he was Ian at the cabin? Because of this
disorder?”
“Yes.”
“What causes this…dissociative thing?”
Emma sighed. “Any number of factors…a genetic predisposition
for mental illness, a severe trauma.” She paused. “Prolonged abuse.”
“Abuse? Graham never said he was abused.”
The agent glanced at Dell.
Shasta’s stomach squeezed. “Am I missing something?”
Her brother sat forward. “What do you know about the steamer
trunk in Graham’s office?”
“Nothing. I rarely went in his office. Even to clean.”
Emma cleared her throat. “In that trunk we found journals
and a few audio cassette tapes.”
Shasta shivered, suddenly cold. “O…kay.”
“I’ll spare you the gruesome details, but at the cabin and
from the time he was less than a year old, Graham Dupree was systematically
mental, physical and…” The agent swallowed. “…sexually abused.”
Shasta gasped. “Dear God—by whom?”
“His cousin, Ian.”
“What? No. Graham always said he and Ian were like
brothers.”
“Our forensic psychiatrist says that’s how predators
typically work. They become an essential part of their victim’s life, making
their victims dependent on them.”
“How was that possible? Ian was just a little boy when
Graham was born…”
“There’s no age requirement for being a psychopath.”
Closing her eyes, Shasta pressed shaky fingers to her
temples.
“That’s not all, sis,” Dell said.
She peeked up. “There’s more?”
Her brother’s expression was grim. “Unfortunately. Remember
the story about the African safari Graham was supposed to go on with his family
in the sixth grade?”
Shasta nodded. “But he didn’t go because he got mono. He
ended up staying with Dad and Grandma and Grandpa.” Another chill hit her.
“Graham’s family died in a small plane crash.”
“Turns out no one went to Africa. We found a shallow grave
at the cabin with the remains of five bodies. All shot in the head.”
Shasta’s hands flew up to cover her mouth. Lynch wrapped his
arm around her shoulders.
Emma pulled a file out from her open briefcase. “Dental
records confirm those bodies were Maxwell and Irene Dupree, along with Charles,
Margret and Ian Blackwell.”
Shasta slowly lowered her hands. “And you think Graham—at
age eleven or twelve—
killed
them?”
“Not Graham, Ian. And yes, the evidence is indisputable.”
“Evidence like DNA and fingerprints?”
“No, nothing like that—”
“Then what?” Shasta demanded.
Lynch’s arm tightened. “Take it easy, Shaly.”
“You take it easy. You weren’t married to a man who might’ve
killed his entire family. You didn’t have Wyatt around him.” Shasta gave the
agent a hard look. “I ask again, what evidence?”
Emma blew out another sigh. “Our handwriting expert
concluded one of the journals was written by a younger Graham Dupree. In it, he
referred to himself as Ian and detailed how he drugged everyone, then shot
them.”
Shasta’s stomach heaved. “Jesus…this is so unbelievable.”
“You need to remember it was Ian, not—”
“Not who?” Shasta snapped. “Graham? Ian? Ian? Graham? God
only knows who I was married to.”
Emma’s gaze drilled into her. “Listen to me. You were
married to Graham Dupree. A good man and a loyal public servant.”
“Who lied about everything. His family. Being paralyzed.”
“Dupree didn’t lie because he
didn’t know
. As far as
his paralysis went, that was very real for him.”
With a groan, Shasta buried her face in her hands. “I don’t
know what to believe anymore.”
Lynch massaged her neck muscles. “What would cause this guy
to jump back and forth from being Dupree to Blackwell?”
“A trigger of some kind,” Emma answered. “We’ve surmised the
reason he killed his family in the first place was because Ian had joined the
army and planned to leave Stardust.”
Shasta looked up. “But if Ian abused him, wouldn’t Graham be
happy he left?”
“Not necessarily. It’s like I said, abusers make themselves
indispensable to their victims. Ian’s leaving could have been perceived as an
abandonment by Graham, causing a psychotic break. And since abusers are seen as
having all the power and control, that could be why Graham took the persona of
Ian Blackwell…to emulate that power and control.”
Shasta threaded her fingers through her hair. “I want to
forget any of this ever happened.”
“Sorry, I can’t do that,” Emma said, “but I can change the
subject. To a happier one, I suspect.” She extracted a large manila envelope
and slid it across the table.
“What’s that?” Shasta asked.
“Deeds to the Dupree home as well as the lake property.”
Shasta’s eyes popped wide. She looked inside the packet.
“Thought the federal government was seizing everything.”
“It was pointed out that the illicit activity was in fact
that of Ian Blackwell, and not Graham Dupree. And given how instrumental you
were in bringing down Blackwell, it seemed fair to allow you some compensation.”
“Hardly instrumental.” Shasta closed the envelope.
“But…thank you.”
The agent dipped her head in acknowledgement.
“Whatcha gonna do with the real estate, sis?” Dell asked.
“Sell, and put the money into a college fund for Wyatt.”
“Bet you’d get a nice nickel if you sold the sixty acres to
a developer.”
Shasta shook her head. “No developer, but maybe a
conservation group will buy that land. I like the idea of all that ugliness
being taken over by nature. Kinda purifying in a way.” She stood, as did Lynch.
“In the meantime, brother dear, you’re stuck having me and Wyatt live with you.
That okay?”
“Better than okay. House is too damn big for one person
anyway.”
“Good.” Shasta grabbed her purse and Lynch ushered her to
the door.
“Speaking of your son,” Emma said, “how’s he doing?”
“Better, though he misses Graham terribly, but knowing the
official report said Graham died trying to save him has helped. Thank you
again.”
“No need to thank me for that. I honestly believe if your
husband had had a choice, he would’ve stopped Blackwell.”
Shasta sighed. “I still worry the truth might come out some
day, though…”
Emma gave her head a firm shake. “It won’t. The only people
who know exactly what happened that night are in this room, plus Sam. As far as
the good people of Stardust are concerned, Graham Dupree, along with the entire
Streeter MC are heroes for helping foil a human trafficking ring.”
Dell snorted. “Good God. The Streeters were
part
of
that damn ring.”
The agent scowled. “We’ve been over this. You know it’s in
everyone’s best interest to stick to the story.”
“Yeah…yeah,” Dell muttered.
Lynch gripped the door knob then paused. “What’s gonna
happen to the Fuentes’s case, counselor?”
Emma’s frown darkened. “It’ll stay active, though the
bastard has probably gone farther underground than a gopher. But we’ll get him.
Eventually.”
Dell slid his gaze to Lynch. “Same could be said for…other
criminals.”
Lynch feigned shock, his hand over his heart. “Criminal? I’m
not a criminal. As the new owner in the Stardust Bowling Alley, I’m an
upstanding member of the community.”