Shattered Dreams (Dreams Series Book 1)

by Hicks, Braxton

  You can imagine my surprise when Ray contacted me to let me know that you had left Bristol to return to your home in Radcliff. I was disappointed that you felt no need to let me know that you were leaving.

  I was more surprised when Ray told me that Mark Montgomery is still in Bristol, working with a horse that has no rider. What is going on?

  Please contact me at your earliest convenience. There are matters to discuss.

  Very truly yours,

  Trey M. Sinclair, Esq.

  My heart did another pitter-pat as I folded the letter and brushed it across my cheek wanting to feel something of Trey in the linen paper. He was right. I had fled like a thief in the night. As an employee alone, I owed the Sinclairs more than that. As someone who still loved Trey with all of my heart, I owed him more than that. I was puzzled as to why he wrote a formal letter instead of simply calling my cell and demanding answers, Trey-style.

  I grabbed my cell phone and called him. He answered on the third ring.

  “Tylar?”

  “Yes, it’s me. I got your letter today. I’m sorry I left the way that I did. I owed you an explanation; I just wasn’t sure I had one.”

  “I don’t understand. Did you and Mark split?”

  Oh God; how would I explain this without lying or making Trey think badly of Mark? I had to play this carefully. “Mark and I were never together. We were just friends. I didn’t even say goodbye to him.”

  “I’m confused, you never told Mark about your pregnancy?”

  “That’s right, Trey. I didn’t want to complicate things.”

  All true statements and answers so far.

  “Don’t you think he might've felt differently about his plans if he knew?”

  “He might've but still, I wouldn’t want someone to be with me out of some sense of honor or obligation. People should be together because they love each other, right?”

  “I suppose so,” he said.

  “Well, I don’t love Mark; Mark doesn’t love me. It’s as simple as that.”

  “I don’t think it's as simple as that, Tylar. What about the child?”

  “The child will have plenty of love, trust me.”

  “I can’t keep Mark on you know.”

  “Is that your decision to make? Aren’t your parents back? Isn’t your father running the stables and estates again?”

  “Well, yes,” he answered, “but…”

  “Trey,” I interrupted, “Mark planned on leaving before winter anyway, so why don’t you just let it play out? If you fire him, he’ll know it’s because of me, of what I did. Please don’t make me feel any worse than I already do.”

  I knew that I was getting to him.

  “I guess there's no harm. I won’t say anything to my father specifically, but I can’t guarantee he won’t figure things out anyway.”

  “That’s fine, just let it play out on its own.”

  “There’s also the matter of Charlie’s trial. There is a pre-trial investigation being conducted. You’ll need to be here during some of that questioning.”

  “I don’t understand. There’s no way that I want to be in the same room with that animal!” I could feel the hysteria rising in my throat.

  “Calm down,” Trey said gently. “There are loose ends to tie up with respect to the letters he left, the pajamas.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “I think we both know that Charlie's the man from your past, your mother’s boyfriend that attacked you when you were thirteen. I think we also know that he had a hand in faxing that trust withdrawal form from our office to your mother. He may have conspired with her for a cut of it. What I don’t understand is why you didn’t tell the detectives the whole story.”

  “I told them everything that happened that night. I wasn’t sure Charlie was connected to the other stuff,” I lied.

  “Well, I’m sure Tylar, and I’ve told the detectives as much. There could be further criminal charges pressed against Charlie, but you'll need to be here as they review the statements made in the days following your attack, in addition to the evidence I provided them that was left in or at your cottage.”

  I really wished Trey would just let it be. “When will I have to come back down?”

  “I’m not sure. Someone from the prosecutor’s office will be in touch with you either by phone or mail soon. How's everything going with you up there, Tylar? Are you feeling well?”

  “Yes, I’ve been really busy getting the house cleaned and furnished. I’ve got my first appointment with my OB doctor soon.”

  “That’s good,” he said. I could tell he didn’t want to discuss my pregnancy in detail. It made him uncomfortable.

  “How’s Derringer?” I asked.

  “Aside from missing you, he's well. A bit testy with Mark, I think.”

  “How often do you get back to Bristol?” I asked.

  “Not often. There’s really no need to now. I got your deed in the mail earlier this week. I'll forward it on to you.”

  “Thanks,” I replied.

  “Let me know if you need anything. Take care.”

  ∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

  My appointment with Dr. Shelley Hamilton went well. She went over some of the details about my first trimester, which had about a week and a half left. She gave me a prescription for prenatal vitamins and informed me my due date was May 5th and she'd see me in another month. I paid the bill and scheduled my next appointment.

  When I got home there was a letter from the Office of the Commonwealth’s Attorney at the Washington County Courthouse in Abingdon, Virginia in my mail. I was ordered to report to the county courthouse in Abingdon to meet with police investigators and the C.A. relative to additional pending charges against Charles Roberts currently in custody. I had to be there on Friday, November 9th at 10 a.m.

  I needed to call Trey. I wasn't comfortable going back there and certainly wanted to know what I could expect at this meeting. I heard his smooth and silky voice on the other end.

  “Tylar?”

  “Hi Trey, do you have a minute?”

  “Certainly,” he replied, “what can I do for you?”

  I told Trey about the letter that I'd received and my order to report to the C.A.’s office the following Friday. He explained that the Commonwealth Attorney's just another name for a prosecutor or district attorney. He said that my statement would be reviewed with the detectives and C.A. They'd question me as to the other events that transpired, they may show me any videotaped questioning that had been conducted with Charlie, and get my confirmation as to the validity of his statements to date. Trey assured me that I'd not have to come face-to-face with Charlie.

  “Will you be there?” I asked.

  “I’ve not been requested to be there. Do you need me to be there with you, Tylar, as your counsel?”

  “I guess not. I'll be fine.” I was dreading this; I didn’t want to go back to Washington County.

  “Are you flying down Tylar?”

  “I probably will. I don’t want to stay over.”

  “Let me know your flight information. I'll pick you up.”

  Once the arrangements had been made, I texted the details to Trey. He texted back that he'd be there to pick me up. I couldn’t help feeling butterflies at the thought of seeing him again. It seemed like it had been forever instead of just four weeks.

  Chapter 34

  The flight from Louisville was my favorite kind: uneventful. I felt queasy, but wasn't sure if it was my pregnancy or just plain nerves.

  Charlie was charged with breaking and entering, burglary, and felony assault. My understanding was that the C.A. was willing to go for attempted murder, and add aggravated menacing, conspiracy to commit fraud, and several other charges relating to his involvement in the trust fund, depending upon what Charlie was willing to admit.

  The plane landed on time at Tri-Cities Regional Airport in Blountville, Tennessee. I walked through the gate area and past the security checkpoint. I heard Trey b
efore I saw him.

  “Tylar, over here.” I turned and saw him standing next to the baggage claim area. He was dressed casually in dark brown trousers and a tan sweater that accentuated his muscular arms and flat, taut belly. I had a white oxford shirt on underneath my sweater jacket. I had light gray tights on with short dress boots. I saw Trey’s eyes flicker over me almost appreciatively. “You look great,” he said, smiling, holding me from him so that his eyes could sweep over me once again.

  “You, too,” I replied, smiling, suddenly feeling kind of shy.

  “C’mon,” he took my hand. “I’m parked right out front.”

  I thought there would be a strained silence between us during the ride from the airport to Abingdon, but initially, that wasn't the case. Trey wanted to know all about the house and what I'd done with it so far. He asked if I'd spoken with any of my neighbors to see if they had heard anything about my mother. I had not and told him as much.

  “I don’t get it Tylar, you puzzle me.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “I don’t understand why you have no desire to seek justice for what your mother has done to you.”

  I considered this. “Which one of her crimes should I seek justice for, Trey? When she slept with my best friend’s dad in her bedroom and I heard everything? When she allowed Charlie Roberts to wander into my bedroom and assault me? How about when she screwed my boyfriend on my prom night? What about the lifelong lie about my father being married to her and then leaving her for someone else? Her stealing my trust money was minor compared to the years of her neglect, duplicity, and the lack of love and compassion she had for her own child. What kind of justice will take those scars away?”

  Trey immediately pulled the car over to the side of the road and parked. He unfastened his seat belt and leaned over to me, taking me into his arms. A flood of tears ran down my face. He took my face in his hands and kissed my tears away. His mouth found mine and, in an instant, our lips met with the hunger and passion that was so familiar to me. I lost myself in his kiss.

  “Baby,” he moaned, continuing to press kisses on my lips, my face, and my throat, “I've missed you so much.”

  “I’ve missed you too,” I buried my face in his neck.

  “Then why did you leave me?” he asked; his voice husky.

  “I told you before; I didn’t like having an agreement that prevented us from loving.”

  “But you slept with Mark and claimed no love between the two of you,” he argued, anger in his voice. “And now,” he continued, still irritated and totally oblivious that I was pissed, “you've saddled yourself with his brat for the rest of your life.”

  I pushed him away, too angry to speak. I accepted that he didn’t know the truth and, had he known, would likely not have referred to the child I was carrying as a “brat,” but his insensitivity to the situation in general was deplorable. A look of surprise crossed his face as I pushed him away.

  “Let’s go, Trey, I need to get to Abingdon."

  The temperature in the car immediately dropped several degrees. Trey straightened his sweater, put the car in gear, and sped back out onto the highway. We drove in chilly silence the rest of the way. Trey pulled up to the curb in front of the courthouse and got out. He opened the passenger side door and helped me out onto the sidewalk.

  “Text me when you're ready to be picked up. I'll send a limo for you. Good luck, Tylar.” With that he circled back behind his car, got into the driver seat, and sped off.

  Once inside the courthouse, I went over to the witness check-in window. I told the officer that I was expected for a 10 a.m. meeting with someone from the CA’s office. He checked a daily roster sheet for my name.

  “You’re a little early, Ms. Preston. Please have a seat and someone will call you.”

  Finally, my name was called out by a uniformed officer standing at a door that opened out into the waiting area. I headed to the doorway and he stood aside to let me through.

  “This way please,” he directed, leading me to a conference room off of the hallway.

  “Good morning, Ms. Preston. I’m Beth Denniston, deputy C.A. with Washington County,” a woman said, holding her hand out to me. I shook her hand. “Do you remember Detective Ryan?” she asked. I nodded, shaking his hand as well.

  “What we're going to do this morning, Ms. Preston, is to review the statement you provided to the detectives on October 5th of this year, as well as go over some of the additional evidence that's been provided to our office subsequent to October 5th, okay?”

  “Yes,” I replied nervously.

  “We understand that you suffered a head injury, so it’s possible that things could actually be clearer now than when you initially provided your statement to the detectives. Just relax, and relate exactly what you remember about the night of October 3rd of this year to us, okay?”

  I nodded.

  “We're going to record this interview for the purpose of preserving your testimony for evidence. We must make sure that you understand that this is being taped and say so for the record.”

  She turned on the recorder, stating today’s date, time, people present, case number, and parties to the case. She asked me to state my name for the record.

  “Tylar Jamie Preston.”

  “And Ms. Preston, you have agreed to allow this interview to be taped as future evidence as required, is that true?”

  “Yes,” I answered.

  “Okay, in your own words tell us what you remember about the night of the attack in your cottage at Sinclair Stables.”

  “I remember that it was a Wednesday night. I wanted to stay up and watch the season opener of a television show. I maybe watched the first few minutes of it and then dozed off. When I woke up later, the show was off and the late night news was on. I turned the television off, switched off the lights in the living room of the cottage, and went to bed.”

  I paused momentarily collecting my thoughts from that horrible night. “I remember that the window in my bedroom was opened because it was still fairly warm out and I liked the fresh breeze coming in to my room.”

  My mouth was getting dry which often happened when I was stressed or nervous. Detective Ryan got up and went to a small refrigerator in the conference room, retrieving bottle of water for me. I thanked him, took a sip, and continued.

  “I recall that I thought I was dreaming. In my dream I thought it was a former…lover touching me on my thighs and my hips,” I said, blushing. “I was dreaming of him, or at least I thought that I was. I was kind of lucid. I felt my panties being pulled off, but again, I thought it was part of my dream. At some point, I realized that I wasn't dreaming; that someone was in my bed with me.” My hands were shaking as I lifted the bottle of water to my lips, taking another drink. “He was assaulting me with his fingers…down there.”

  “Where, Ms. Preston?”

  Oh God, she was going to make me spell it all out in technical terms. I'd have to push through this. “He was thrusting his fingers in and out of my vaginal area, scratching me.” I said pointedly. There it was, out. The worst part of it was out.

  “Go on,” she prodded.

  “I was still half asleep, still kind of thinking it was someone else.”

  “Who, Ms. Preston? Who did you think it was in your bed that night?”

  Oh no. This was humiliation I didn’t need. I hadn’t gone into all of that in my statement at the hospital. Why had I chosen to do so now?

  “Like I said,” I continued, “I was half-asleep and when I realized it wasn’t a dream, I considered that my boyfriend, who I'd recently broken up with, was there with me; that it was him touching me, Trey Sinclair.”

  “Did your boyfriend or ex-boyfriend make it a habit of coming into your cottage while you were sleeping and crawling into your bed?”

  “No, not at all,” I answered tersely, “I suppose in my half-dream state, it was simply wishful thinking. Then I heard the voice. He, Charlie, asked me if I liked it. He called me a bitch, I think
, and then he called me ‘Sissy.’”

  “Does the name ‘Sissy’ hold any significance to you, Ms. Preston?”

  Why did I think she was asking me questions for which she already knew the answers?

  “Yes. I'd received some threatening notes from someone calling me that name.”

  “Anything other than that?”

  “About eight years ago, one of my mom’s boyfriends had called me by that name. He came into my room when I was sleeping and took my pajama bottoms off and started touching and putting his finger inside me. I screamed and my mother came into my room and made him leave.”

  “Why had he called you ‘Sissy’ back then?”

  Once again I found myself explaining the events which had occurred when I'd come home unexpectedly on one of my mom’s date nights. There it was, just as predicted. I was sick of this already. I skipped to the condensed version.

  “Yes, my mother was a prostitute, you see. On Saturday nights, she had a ‘date night’ where one of her tricks would come over for dinner and would spend the whole night. On this particular night, I had the misfortune of coming home unexpectedly,” I took a swig of water before I continued. “Apparently her date that night was Charlie Roberts. I didn’t really get a good look at the man. Mom tried to pass me off as her little sister. Then what I’ve already told you happened after that. That's the story about the name ‘Sissy.’”

  I took another long drink of water trying to wash the nasty taste of the truth about my mom out of my mouth.

  “So, when you came to work at the Sinclair Stables, you didn’t know that Charlie Roberts was, in fact, the same man who'd molested you eight years ago?”

  “That’s correct. That had happened in Radcliff, Kentucky. I'd no reason to think Charlie was the same guy from Radcliff now in Bristol, Virginia working at the same place that I was.”

  “Do you find that fact more than just coincidental, Ms. Preston?”

  “I guess; I haven’t thought of it as anything other than just bad luck up to this point.”

  “Please continue about the night you were assaulted, Ms. Preston.”

  “He just kept touching me, and calling me ‘Sissy.’ I was thrashing around in my bed, trying to get away from him, trying to push him off of the bed. I remember him saying—”