Dark Waters (2013)

by Anderson, Toni

  She was so furious she wanted to hit something, but so tired she could barely keep her eyes open. She wasn’t going to let them do this. She wasn’t going to let Brent suffer because he’d saved her life.

  Her mouth was dry, so she begged a coffee off the cop behind the desk. He seemed friendly enough, but she refused to be charmed by anyone in a uniform, even one with Italian good looks. She still wore Brent’s T-shirt, along with some borrowed pants, and looked like she’d been dragged through a forest of thorns backward by her hair.

  “Where’s Brent?” she asked for what felt like the millionth time.

  “Still being held,” the officer told her as he handed her an RCMP mug. He looked worried, which couldn’t be a good sign. “Holly told me to tell you to stay strong. She was ordered in for questioning. Finn’s being held too, but he’s not on parole so he’ll be released soon, I think.”

  “Is Holly here?” Anna needed to lean on those connections of Brent’s if she hoped to keep him out of prison.

  He nodded. “But they’re making her and her father take a backseat on this investigation. They are both too involved, and there’s a lot of media exposure on this one.”

  Crap. She’d hoped those links would smooth Brent’s way. “None of this is his fault.”

  The officer was quiet for a moment. Then he leaned closer and said quietly, “You need a bargaining chip.”

  She frowned as his dark eyes probed hers. She didn’t have any bargaining chips. She had nothing.

  “Hey, Chastain. I need you to go out on patrol,” someone shouted from four desks over.

  “Right.”

  “Your mother’s in the waiting room,” the man, Chastain, said.

  Anna stared at him in shock. “She’s here?”

  He gave her a dark-eyed smile. “She’s been here all night, waiting for you.”

  Anna nodded and bit her lip. She’d thought she’d be sedated in the hospital.

  “If you don’t want to see her, I can sneak you out the back,” he offered.

  “Why are you being so nice to me?” The kindness almost broke her. She wanted fire and rage and some rigid law enforcement persona she could hate.

  “Because you and your mother have suffered enough following a grave miscarriage of justice.” He pointed in the direction of the waiting room.

  Anna braced herself. She’d spent a lifetime running away from emotion, and now it was time to face it. When she got to the room, her mom was laid out across four chairs, fast asleep, wearing green scrubs. She went over and knelt beside her. Stroked her hair.

  Her mom’s eyes opened slowly, but they weren’t cloudy. They were sharp and clear.

  “Anna,” she said on an exhale.

  “Mom.” Anna smiled.

  Katherine sat up, a little wobbly. “Are you all right?”

  Anna sniffed and nodded, but her eyes filled. Katherine dragged her into her arms and Anna bawled like the world was ending. All the grief for her father, Brent, her past, poured out of her and her mother just held and rocked her in a way she hadn’t since Anna had been a little girl.

  “I’m so very sorry, sweetheart.” She kissed her hair and squeezed her tighter. “I’ve failed you.” She sniffed. “And Davis. I let you both down so very badly.”

  “We both let Dad down. Ed fooled us all,” Anna said quietly when she was able to speak again. Then she braced herself. “There’s something else I want to tell you. Malcolm raped me before the prom.”

  Katherine had been pale before, but now she went sheet white. “That’s why you tried to kill yourself?” Her lips were bloodless. Anna worried she was going to pass out.

  “Yes.” Finally, it was out. It was done.

  “Oh, my Lord. That animal. That perverted little disgusting swine.” Katherine shuddered. “I never liked him, but I never dreamed he’d…did he attack you at home?” Her mom’s eyes were wide.

  Anna rubbed her mother’s cold hands. “He probably would have, but after I tried to kill myself he backed off. Plus, I told him I’d written a letter to Papa and that, when he got out, he was going to kill him.” It had felt good to scare the crap out of her attacker. Malcolm had a healthy respect for his own hide.

  “But you didn’t tell your father, did you?”

  Anna shook his head. “I should have. He died thinking I tried to kill myself because of what we thought he’d done. Even though he was innocent, it must have torn him apart.”

  Katherine covered Anna’s hands with her own. “You were right not to tell him—it would have eaten him up with grief the whole time he was in prison. If he’d known about Malcolm, he would have killed him. I want to kill him. The revolting freak.”

  “Do you think I should press charges? It’s just my word against his, and it happened so long ago.”

  “It’s not about that, Anna. If you can bear to do it, it’s about standing up in court and getting it all out there in the open. Even if they don’t convict him, people will know. And there may be others.”

  Anna had thought of that too.

  “The same way I’m going to stand up in court and shout from the rooftops that the police officers who investigated that theft from the city were incompetent.” Katherine’s voice got louder. People were starting to look their way. Anna bet at least one of the voyeurs was a reporter. Katherine got up and paced. “I’m going to sue the city until that measly million dollars looks like chump change.”

  That was it! Excitement sparked inside Anna and she kissed her mom’s cheek. “Keep making a racket, Mom.”

  Her mother grinned. “I’m enjoying it, actually.” This, from the woman who’d been avoiding the spotlight her whole life. “Where are you going?”

  “To find Brent’s lawyer. And see if the threat of a long, drawn-out, and very expensive lawsuit is enough to get the man I love some good old-fashioned justice.”

  The Mounties held him for three days, then suddenly—inexplicably—he was free to go.

  Laura claimed she didn’t know why, but he didn’t believe her.

  Anna had been forced to return to the States and answer questions about finding Peter’s body. It had been nine days since he’d seen her. Nine days since the shooting. He clenched his fists. What he wanted was to get on a plane and fetch her back. But they wouldn’t even let him in the country and she’d told him during several phone calls that they both just had to be patient.

  Pah! Him? Patient?

  He could be patient.

  Maybe.

  The last few weeks had taught him many things, and one of the most important things was how to trust again. He had his brother and Holly. Brent would never doubt their loyalty again. And he had Anna. Just as soon as those assholes in Minnesota figured out she was nothing but a victim in the whole crazy saga.

  Something else he’d learned over the last few weeks was self-forgiveness. Not only for his father, but for Gina too. They hadn’t been right for one another. He’d loved her, but not with passion. Not enough to make a life together. He’d never lied to her. Never wanted her to get hurt. And he’d have done anything to save her. The fact she was dead wasn’t his fault. The ache in his chest was beginning to ease, along with the guilt and age-old feeling of self-disgust. Eventually, with time, that too would heal.

  Jack Panetti had identified the one surviving mercenary as the guy who’d carjacked him and then shot him in the back. That fucker was going down on federal charges of murder of a police officer, kidnapping, and attempted murder. He’d fessed up to a whole lot of bad, from the charity being a cover for illegal mercenary activities, to Davis catching them moving their ill-gotten gains, and them trying to find Anna to get it back. Illinois had abolished the death penalty, so the guy was going to get a taste of many, many years in prison. Brent hoped the guy enjoyed it as much as he had.

  With a little help from Jack Panetti’s IT guy, the cops had found all the money. Now the US and Canadian authorities got to fight about who kept it. Davis had been wrong about them stealing money from th
e charity—they’d simply been using the foundation as a smoke screen to obscure their dirty dealings. Feds had just linked a recent assassination of a high-level American diplomat in Yemen back to Rand and his crew, and the shit was hitting the fan. Thankfully, Davis’s name had been cleared, both in this investigation and the one that had put him inside in the first place. His record was going to be expunged.

  Brent had received notification that his parole officer had changed and he was back to reporting every two weeks, which went in the plus column. But somehow his identity had been leaked to the world, which was a pisser. He’d missed his NYC exhibition, but got an e-mail from a woman in South Dakota asking if he’d recently given some watercolor paintings to her four children. He’d had his agent write back to prove provenance and tell her to insure them for at least ten grand each. His agent was pissed with him, but all the publicity and his apparent “hero” status in the media had increased the value of his artwork, which had mollified the guy slightly.

  Hero status. That was a kicker. He’d never pretended to be a hero.

  He stared at the water.

  The waves fizzled to a stop at his toes.

  Thankfully the cops hadn’t found his weapons or hidey-holes. After he got back, he made sure all guns were dumped far offshore, never to be seen again. He was done with all that. He just hoped it was done with him.

  He looked at his house. The bodies were gone. Glass cleared up. He’d had a professional cleaning crew come in as soon as the cops were finished, removing blood and guts and pretty much every stick of furniture that might have a bad association for Anna. The windows were still out—they had to be custom-made and replaced. And the place was looking pretty damn bare, but at least it was still standing, bullet holes and all.

  He looked around at his beautiful wedge of the Pacific Rim and tried to feel contentment. But it wouldn’t come. Inside, misery swirled with a total lack of appetite for life, in a way he hadn’t felt since those early years in prison. He’d tried to paint. Tried to get drunk. Ended up just sitting here, watching the water, wanting Anna more than he’d ever wanted his freedom. The fact he suddenly needed more from his life was both terrifying and exhilarating.

  “Hi.”

  Her voice had him spinning. His heart gave a big kick before it started beating again. “Anna.” He felt like he was dreaming.

  She was dressed in a pretty pink camisole and tight black jeans. The bruises had faded and she looked recovered from her ordeal, on the outside at least. “I’m sorry it took so long to get back here. I didn’t call ahead because I wanted to surprise you.” She held a small urn in front of her. “And I needed to fetch Dad…”

  Davis. His eyes smarted.

  “I thought this would be a good place for his ashes.” Her moss-green eyes were huge as she raised them to his. “The best place.”

  “It isn’t the best place when you’re not here,” he said quietly.

  “No?”

  He shook his head.

  “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking—” Anna began.

  Brent didn’t like the sound of that.

  She looked around. “I know you love it here but”—Hope shrank inside him—“I don’t think I can live here full-time. I mean weekends, for sure.” She bit her lip. “I’m moving back to Victoria, to my grandmother’s home. To be closer to Mom. And closer to you.” Her gaze clouded, looking troubled at the enormity of the challenges they faced. “How are we going to do this?” she asked uncertainly.

  “One day at a time,” he told her, never looking away.

  One side of her lips twitched. “Sounds a bit like prison.”

  He moved closer. “Better food. Better company.” He opened his arms.

  She placed the urn carefully in the sand and leaned into him. He wrapped his arms tight around her, so tight she squeaked. She wasn’t a dream. She was here in his arms and he never intended to let her go.

  “I want to be with you, to live with you, wherever you are.” He buried his nose in her hair and inhaled a sweet citrus scent.

  “I love you, Brent Carver.” She smiled up at him, eyes shining, her chin rubbing his chest. Tiny, stubborn, and perfect. “But it’s not going to be easy.”

  He laughed. “After what we’ve been through, it’ll be a piece of cake.”

  “Yeah, but this is for the long haul. Living together, sharing space. I haven’t done that in forever.”

  They were alike in so many ways it was startling. “We’ll figure it out. I can always retreat back here when either one of us needs solitude. I’ll give you space if you need it.” He hooked her hair behind her ear. “You set me free, Anna.”

  Those eyes of hers saw all the way through to his soul. “You’re a good man, Brent. You deserve to be free.”

  “What do you think your dad would have made of us being together?” It bothered him. Hell, being part of the human race bothered him. It had been easier when he’d been alone. Easier, but not necessarily better.

  She grinned and leaned back in his arms. “You’re the son he never had. He loved you. You know that.”

  “Do you think he’d have loved grandkids?” A loaded question. He watched her very carefully.

  Her eyes widened and she swallowed. “Not straightaway, but one day.” Her eyes searched his, looking for answers, but he was giving nothing away because he wanted to know how she felt. “One day, yes, he’d have loved grandkids.”

  A feeling of relief and joy burst through him. He hadn’t known he held a deeply buried desire for a family until he’d asked that question. And if Anna didn’t want kids, he’d be content. He’d always be content with Anna. But suddenly the idea of making babies with her filled him with a weird sort of hope for the future, because if she trusted him enough to be a father, she must really trust him. But how in the hell would he tell his children about his dark past? He had no fucking clue, but he wanted kids. He really wanted them.

  All his insecurities would worm their way to the surface eventually, Anna’s too, but they’d deal with them later. All he needed right now was in his arms. He went to kiss her but she stopped him.

  She laughed. “I think you’re turning out to be a big softy, Brent Carver.”

  “Wrong.” He slanted her a suggestive look and a wicked half grin.

  “Wait.” Her expression turned serious and she pulled away. “There’s one more thing I need to tell you first.” She dug for something in the back pocket of her jeans. Held up a thick envelope. “I spoke to an attorney about pressing charges against Malcolm Plantain.” She chewed her thumbnail. “There is no statute of limitations for rape in British Columbia. You guessed it was him who attacked me?”

  “I figured it out.” He’d put the clues together, and gave himself big marks for not having the sonofabitch taken down a back alley and beaten within an inch of his life. He massaged his hands over her shoulder. “You sure you want to do this?”

  She shook her head. “No. I don’t. But I have to. People have to pay for their crimes.”

  That made it sound easier than this was going to be. Taking someone to court for rape often hurt the victim just as much as the accused.

  “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

  “I got hurt a long time ago. I’m over the hurt now, and it’s about time I was brave enough to stand up to my past,” she said.

  He intended to stand with her. “Did you tell your mother?”

  She nodded. “She took it hard at first, but she’s dealt with everything so much better than I anticipated. She’s been a rock and we’ve grown a lot closer. She said she’d support any decision I made.” She gripped the envelope tighter. “She got you released.”

  He snorted, then realized she wasn’t kidding. “How the hell did she do that?”

  “By threatening the city and the cops with massive litigation over Dad’s wrongful arrest and conviction.”

  “She should sue them.”

  Anna shook her head. “She told them she’d drop the lawsuits and even
stop talking to the media if they did the right thing by you. You didn’t do anything wrong. You saved my life. Believe me, she’s more than satisfied with the results.” Anna reached up and touched his lips. A ripple of desire shot through his body at the contact, but he controlled himself.

  Her fingers gripped his. “I’m going to need your support to take Malcolm to court. I don’t think I can do it alone.”

  “Always.” There was no hesitation. Hell, there was nothing he wouldn’t do for this woman.

  “I want to be with you. I want a chance of happiness with you while we figure out the shape of our future,” she said.

  “It can be any shape you want.” He couldn’t believe he was lucky enough to have this shot at a real life, but he was taking it and he didn’t intend to fuck it up. “I don’t think you understand exactly how much I love you.”

  Her throat worked and her eyes shimmered. “I do, Brent. I was there, remember?”

  And now she’d made his eyes water so he blinked hard to get rid of the tears. Men like him did not cry.

  She handed him the envelope, bent down, and picked up the urn. Stood in the surf as she let her father go. He waited for the sadness to come as he watched the breeze disperse the ashes of his best friend, but there was a feeling of intense peace instead. Davis’s name had been cleared and Brent knew this would have made the man happy. He hoped the fact he and Anna were together would have made his friend smile.

  When she was finished and they’d both said their good-byes, he scooped her into his arms and strode toward the house.

  She tensed.

  His hold tightened and he stopped moving. “We don’t have to stay here. I can sell the place—”

  She touched his mouth again but this time with hers. “Take me to bed or lose me forever,” she said against his lips.

  “I’m not losing you. Not ever.”

  “Just keep telling me you love me.”

  “Every day. Every single moment of every single day.” He lifted his head. “And I want a dog.”