by Jana DeLeon
“As stoic as ever. I’m not sure even Eleonore could crack her. But she seemed pleased to see me and was happy to hear that Marisa was doing all right. I think she regrets not saying something sooner.”
Jackson took a seat next to Shaye. “The whole thing is fantastic. Caitlyn kills her sister and decides to pretend she’s Jenny—but why?”
“Because no one would believe Jenny had killed her sister on purpose, maybe? Because the death would have been ruled accidental and Jenny’s health would have precluded her serving time anyway.”
Jackson nodded. “Plus, I guess as Jenny, she got all the attention she thought she’d been cheated out of. But it didn’t work out like she’d planned. Why? What did Eleonore say?”
“That Caitlyn was likely a narcissist but not a sociopath and that killing Jenny was so dreadful, she couldn’t cope with what she’d done. So her mind splintered. Eleonore thinks she started out pretending to be Jenny and that when she was knocked unconscious by that car, something shifted and she began to believe her lie as well.”
“But it didn’t stay shifted forever.”
“No. The truth was there in her subconscious and starting to reveal itself in her dreams. If Virginia hadn’t drugged her, it probably would have happened sooner.”
“It’s ironic, her hiring you. She must have flipped when her memory returned and she realized she’d brought the house down on herself.”
“I’m sure that’s why she asked me to stop the investigation. The woman I talked to that evening was all Caitlyn—drinking beer and reading a romance novel—that wasn’t something Jenny would have done, according to Marisa. I should have realized it sooner. Even Virginia left hints, making comments like ‘I lost my daughter a long time ago’ and suggesting that once her daughter made up her mind, it was over. She was talking about Caitlyn, not Jenny.”
“So the story about someone shooting at Caitlyn was all made up as well?”
“I don’t think so. Virginia saw her run out of the woods and she heard the shot. And she claims that it was Jenny who came out of the woods. Not Caitlyn.”
“Poacher?”
“Maybe. Or maybe it was Rick Sampson. He called in sick that day, and Marisa told me today that she’d found mud on his boots when she went home for lunch.”
Jackson shook his head. “How could someone get it so wrong? Rick Sampson compounded one horrible decision with another.”
“In his mind, he was only protecting himself and his family. But yeah, it’s amazing how far off track an otherwise normal person can go.”
“And scary. It makes you think, you know? How far would you go to protect someone you loved?”
“I don’t know, and that’s not a good answer from someone in my profession, but just take this past week into account. Between Caitlyn killing her own twin, then pretending to be her, and Victor LeBlanc having to turn in his son for arranging the kidnapping of his own daughter, it keeps getting harder to place much faith in humans as a species.”
“Eleonore says that’s because we see the worst of things all the time—me, you, Corrine, her. Our professions constantly expose us to the darker side of human nature.”
Jackson reached over and took her hand. “And yet we wouldn’t change a thing.”
Shaye smiled. “Never even crossed my mind.”
29
ONE MONTH later
Dallas, Texas
JACKSON KNOCKED on the front door of the modest home in Dallas, Texas. His plane had landed an hour ago and as soon as he finished this conversation, he would be on the next flight back to New Orleans. But first, he had to do the most important thing he’d ever done.
A woman answered the door, and he identified himself. Monica Peterson was in her forties, but still had a youthful appearance. Her Facebook page had been filled with smiling pictures of her, her husband, Stephen, and their children. But now, anxiety tugged at her lips, leaving her smile less than radiant.
“Please come in,” Monica said. “My husband is on his way down. The kids are with my parents. We wanted to see what you had to say first before we decided what to share with them.”
“Of course,” Jackson said, relieved that the children wouldn’t hear their conversation.
A trim man with a bit of silver starting to show in his dark brown hair came down the stairs and stopped to introduce himself as Stephen Peterson. “We really appreciate you making the trip here,” he said. “Please have a seat. Would you like something to drink?”
“No. Thank you,” Jackson said as he sat in a chair. The couple took a seat across from him on the couch, Stephen putting a protective arm around his wife.
“Before I tell you my information,” Jackson said, “I’d like to ask you why you put your name on the adoption registry to obtain information about Abbey’s biological parents.”
They looked at each other, then back at Jackson. “She started to ask questions,” Monica said. “We’ve always told her she was adopted, in an age-appropriate way, of course. Now that she’s older and understands better, she grew more curious. She asked us if we could find out something about her parents. We tried to contact the attorney who handled the adoption, but he’d passed and there was no one to assist us with his prior cases.”
“We didn’t pursue that line of questioning further,” Stephen said, “because it was a private adoption and the records were sealed. We had no rights to information that way.”
Jackson nodded, relieved. His worst fear was that there was going to be a medical reason for their inquiry. Basic curiosity he could deal with.
“I’m here because I have information for you,” Jackson said. “But I doubt you’re going to like what I have to say.”
The disappointment was clear.
“The parents don’t want to meet us,” Stephen said. “We knew that could happen. There are all kinds of reasons someone gives up a child for adoption, and they’re entitled to their peace and privacy. It’s disappointing, but we respect their wishes.”
“I’m sure you do,” Jackson said. “You’re adults and understand there are reasons for wanting to remain anonymous, but your daughter might not feel the same way. I’m here to give you some information so that you can hopefully prevent her from looking further. For her own good.”
Their eyes widened, and the father nervously cleared his throat. “Perhaps you’d better tell us what you came for, Detective.”
“Your daughter’s conception and adoption are problematic,” Jackson said. “And that’s rather an understatement.”
“We used a family law attorney,” Stephen said. “All the correct paperwork was filed.”
“You paid extensive fees for the adoption,” Jackson said. “That didn’t concern you?”
He glanced down, and Jackson knew he’d touched a nerve. They might not have known for certain that they’d bought a baby, but they suspected it at least. But with Allard recording everything as one type of fee or another, the purchase price was buried in the details.
“The attorney said the costs to adopt a healthy American baby were high given medical costs,” Stephen said, determined to hold on to his belief that everything was on the up-and-up.
Unfortunately, Jackson was about to blow that out of the water.
Jackson nodded. “I’m sorry to inform you, but the biological mother was told that the child died. It was a home birth, so no medical professionals attended.”
Monica’s hands flew over her mouth and she cried out. “No! They stole her baby! Oh my God. What are we going to do? She’s been with us since she was a month old. She doesn’t know anyone else.”
“You don’t have to do anything,” Jackson said. “The biological mother is not interested in pursuing custody. In fact, she thinks it best if she has no connection with your daughter at all.”
“And the father?” Stephen asked.
“The biological father is dead, and the biological mother prefers that Abbey never learn the details of her conception.”
Monica s
ucked in a breath and glanced over at her husband. Based on the looks on their faces, Jackson figured they both knew the score.
“I understand,” Stephen said, his face grim.
Jackson pulled out an envelope and handed it to Monica. “This is the medical history of the mother. As much as she knows, anyway. She wants you to know that she’s thrilled that her child has a great home and although she loves her and would love nothing more than to meet her, it’s more important to her to protect Abbey. And the only way she can do that is to remain unknown.”
Monica began to quietly cry. “I can’t imagine what she must feel. Being told her baby died, then finding out it’s not true but choosing to stay away for the child’s sake. She must be an incredible person.”
“She’s extraordinary,” Jackson said.
Monica jumped up. “Give me a minute.”
She hurried out of the room and came back a minute later with a school photo of Abbey. “Do you think she’d want this?”
Jackson took the picture and looked down at the smiling face that looked so much like Shaye, and his voice caught in his throat. “I think she’ll love it. Thank you.”
“Thank you,” Stephen said. “We’ll figure out something to tell Abbey. If necessary, we’ll lie. But the mother’s secret is safe with us.”
Jackson rose from the couch. “If you ever need anything, please give me a call. My card is in that envelope.”
He headed out of the house, managing to hold back the tears until he climbed into his rental car. He lifted the picture and looked at it once more before slipping it into his laptop bag. In approximately four hours, he’d be back home. That gave him about 240 minutes to pull himself together.
He hoped it was enough.
SHAYE LOOKED up from her desk and out the window of her office for the millionth time in the past hour. Jackson would be here any minute. His plane had landed thirty minutes ago, and he’d promised to come straight to her place from the airport. He’d called her after he’d talked to the parents, but she hadn’t wanted the details. Not over the phone. This was one of those discussions that needed to happen in person. And probably sitting with a tumbler of whiskey.
She heard his truck before she saw it, then a couple seconds later, she saw it pull up to the curb in front of her apartment. She jumped out of her chair and rushed to the door, throwing it open before he’d even climbed out of his truck. He smiled as he made his way over to her, but he looked tired.
Guilt coursed through her because she knew what she’d asked him to do would be hard, but she didn’t trust anyone else to handle it. Corrine would have been too emotional and would have had trouble letting it go afterward. And both she and Eleonore were too close to Shaye. She didn’t want any chance of the parents figuring out who she was.
So Jackson had been the best option. He’d presented his request for hair for DNA testing because of information he’d acquired during an investigation. That way, the adoptive parents wouldn’t suspect for a moment that his interest was also personal. When the test had returned the positive result they’d anticipated, he’d asked for a meeting.
He gathered her in his arms and hugged her long and hard.
“Come tell me,” Shaye said.
“Are you sure you want to do it right now?”
“I’ve been waiting for long enough. I need to close this chapter in my life. It’s been hanging over my head too long.”
He nodded and they headed into the living room, where they both sat on the couch. Jackson took her hand in his and relayed to her every word, every gesture, every nuance of his conversation with the parents. The tears welled up in her eyes when he described Monica’s reaction to the news, and enormous relief swept through her when he said they promised to make sure no one pursued this any further.
When he was completely done, she drew in a breath and slowly blew it out. “That went as good as it possibly could.”
“Yes. There’s one last thing.” Jackson reached into his laptop bag and pulled out a photo. He handed it to her and slipped his arm around her, drawing her close.
Shaye looked at the photo, and the tears that had been threatening to spill over fell with abandon. She choked back a cry and leaned into Jackson’s chest, letting him cradle her against him. Of all the things she’d endured, this one hurt the worst.
But her daughter would be all right.
And that was all that mattered.
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Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29