“It’s not.”
His unsteady tone prompted her to lower her hands and stare at him. He looked as bad as she felt. His glistening, red-rimmed eyes held her gaze and wouldn’t let go. “You okay, big brother?”
He gulped and shook his head.
“What is it?”
He inhaled a long, tremulous breath. “I…knew.”
She drew a blank. “You knew…what?”
He gulped again. “About Hal.”
Suddenly Jessie remembered Nate admitting to being at the house that awful Friday afternoon. Alarm sirens went off in her head, but she turned down the volume. “How did you know he killed Mom?”
He blinked for a moment. “Not the murder.” He hesitated. “The…the pictures.”
Her throat tightened with horror and disbelief. “You knew the bastard was taking pictures of Callie, and you didn’t tell me?”
A hate-filled scowl creased Nate’s face. “If I’d known that, I would’ve killed the asshole.” He hung his head. “I knew…about you, Jessie. All those years ago.”
A shiver skittered over her skin. Humming filled her ears. For a minute, she could only stare at him. Then her brain regained function and filled with questions. “You never told Mom?”
His lower lip trembled while he shook his head.
“You never told anyone?”
Another shake.
Jessie strained to breathe. “How…how did you know?”
He met her gaze. A tear rolled down his cheek. They stared into each other’s eyes until the answer came to her.
“You too,” she whispered. “Hal took pictures of you, too.”
He gave one sharp nod.
“Jesus Christ. It just tears me apart that this happened right under Mom’s nose. But Hal was a master of deception. Deep inside, I know I’ll always harbor some anger toward her, but I keep reminding myself that Hal is the evil one and Mom was another of his victims. And I have to forgive her for the bad decision she made not to divorce or report Hal, which as a result allowed him to hurt Callie and other children.”
Memories of the years of Nate’s psychological problems played through her mind. Not only had he been victimized long ago, but he’d also known all this time. And was forced to live with it while she’d been blessedly oblivious. He’d suffered more than she had.
She scooted across the couch to sit next to him. Gently, she cupped his cheek, wiping away another tear with her thumb. “It’s okay, Nate. Do you want to tell me about it?”
He blinked, more tears escaped, and he cleared his throat. “Remember, I was only six. You and I still ran through the sprinklers naked in the summer and took baths together. Nudity was…normal. It was fun. We were too young to know something evil could be made of it.” His voice broke, so he stopped.
Jessie patted his thigh. “Take your time.”
“First, I gotta tell you that he never touched us. You know, in a sexual way. I don’t know if he even got off on it or if it was only about making a buck. I can’t remember him getting a hard-on or anything, but then, I didn’t know to look either. He definitely never got naked with us. I’m not making excuses for him; he was a sick motherfucker for sure. But he didn’t sexually abuse us, which I guess would’ve been even worse.”
She swallowed hard. The horrible question that had been lurking in the shadows of her mind faded away. “I agree.”
“When Hal took me into the bomb shelter, he said we were playing a special game. He just let me romp around naked while he snapped pictures. He started bringing you down with us, but you were always asleep. Of course, Mom was gone whenever this happened. He kept me from talking about our special game by threatening that Mom would be so angry about not getting to play that she would leave us. He threatened me with that…every…damn…time. Of course, I was just having fun. I didn’t realize we were doing anything wrong.”
“You weren’t doing anything wrong. He was.”
“Thanks.” Nate sighed. “I don’t know how long it went on, but then it stopped suddenly. Hal said Mom had found out, and that part fits with what she said in her letter about finding him taking pictures of you.”
“Wait a minute.” She frowned. “Hal wasn’t taking pictures of you, too, when she discovered him?”
“No. I was probably at school.”
Her eyes widened. “Did Mom know he’d done the same to you?”
He looked away. His jaw tensed. “Now I don’t believe she knew. Her letter to me didn’t mention it. But back then, he scared the shit out of me by saying she was so mad that she was planning to put me up for adoption. If I ever said one word to her or anyone, I was gone. For years, I thought my own mother hated me.”
“Something happened when you were older. I recall your relationship with Hal turning totally negative.”
“Yeah. I was nine or ten, something like that. There was a presentation at school to teach kids about inappropriate touching and stuff. Even though Hal hadn’t touched us, I suddenly realized him taking pictures of us was wrong, too.”
“You still didn’t tell Mom?”
He shook his head. “I freaked out. I was so embarrassed. But I did confront Hal. He convinced me that the police would put us in foster care and Mom in jail for not taking better care of us.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “God, I was so stupid.”
“You were just a kid. Hal knew how to scare you.”
“Yeah, he did a damn good job of it. But I hated him from then on. And I still believed Mom hated me.”
They sat in silence for several minutes.
“I’m so sorry, Nate. No wonder you had such problems with depression and stuff,” Jessie finally said. “Hopefully things will be better for you now.”
He managed a small smile. “I admit I’m happy as hell Hal is…uh…gone. But now I’ll never get to tell Mom the truth.”
Jessie raised her eyes heavenward for a moment before reconnecting with his. “She knows, Nate. She knows. And she always loved you.”
* * *
Around 10:00 Wednesday night, Sean sat on the couch in Glenn’s living room, nursing a beer. His second, actually. And there might be another in his near future.
He pulled out his cell phone and called Jake Stone. His friend had already learned from the local news of the discovery of Molly Freeman’s body and the rescue of little Callie Hargrove, but Sean filled him in on the behind-the-scene details.
“They need to catch that bastard who killed her,” Jake concluded.
Sean’s jaw clenched. “It’s not that simple.”
“You want my help to find Hal?”
“I need your help but not with that.”
“Woman troubles, huh, Burke? Let me guess: Jessie.”
“In a way.” He braced himself. “Look, Stone, I know you have experience in this. What would you need to…fake a suicide?”
A long, strained silence answered the question.
“Stone?”
“Whose?” Jake asked.
“Hal Freeman’s.”
“Why? You going rogue, Burke? You want the cops to think he’s dead so you can go after the SOB personally?”
Now it was Sean’s turn to remain silent.
“I don’t…do that kind of shit unless I believe in it,” Jake said. “Explain why you want to pretend he’s dead.”
Sean frowned. Why was he hesitant to tell his friend the whole truth? He might not have known Jake Stone very long, but they’d worked well together to accomplish some important stuff. In solving Jake’s girlfriend’s case. In uncovering Hal’s true identity. In discovering the child pornography.
Granted, Stone operated on the fringes of legality, disregarded rules, and ignored bureaucracy, but he got shit done. Good shit. Justice. In some ways, he was envious of the man’s operational freedom, and he sure as hell would trust the former CIA spook with his life. Jake Stone wouldn’t let him down. Time to go all in.
“That part’s not pretend,” Sean finally said.
“Huh? Wha
t pa—” Jake grunted when the truth hit. “Just the how.”
“Yeah.”
“You do it?”
“Nope. An accident.”
Sean could tell the man was running through the possible scenarios of how Hal had died and probably figuring out why it needed to be kept secret. Stone was nothing if not smart and dangerous.
“The fake suicide doesn’t have to completely fool the cops, but it’d be great if they stopped looking for him. Mostly it needs to convince Jess he’s dead.”
“And clean enough I don’t get nabbed for staging it. Don’t forget that detail.” Jake cursed under his breath. “Do you care where?”
“Not particularly. Away from Ramona would be good.”
“What about the body?”
“There won’t be one,” Sean answered grimly.
“Hmmm.” Jake paused for several seconds.
Sean hoped it meant he was planning the fake suicide, not deciding how to tell him to go to hell.
“Get me an appropriate pair of his shoes,” Jake finally said.
“Appropriate?”
“Ones he could’ve been wearing Monday when he…disappeared.”
“You mean not dress shoes if he would’ve been wearing Nikes, right?”
“Yeah. And a pair the cops won’t notice missing from his closet, which I’m sure they’ve already searched.”
Sean made a mental note not to take the pair where Hal had hidden the cash and earrings because he wasn’t sure if they’d been bagged as evidence. “Okay. Anything else?”
“A comprehensive handwriting sample. Every letter, if possible. And definitely his signature.”
“That could be tough.”
“You want a credible suicide note or not?”
“I’ll get it all,” Sean said, but didn’t have a clue how since Jess had just banished him. He cleared his throat. “One more favor, Stone.”
“What now?”
“I have an external hard drive that needs to disappear. Permanently.”
“Not a problem. That just happened to a flash drive of mine.”
Chapter 30
Thursday passed in a fog. Jessie focused all her attention on Callie and let her brother and uncle finish the funeral arrangements, field condolences and questions from friends, and run off the annoying media.
Uncle Chad even took the time to go through the master bedroom to box up Hal’s clothing and personal belongings as well as his business paperwork. She didn’t know where her uncle planned to store it and, frankly, didn’t care. After hearing Nate’s story last night, she hated her stepdad more than ever. She never wanted to see him inside the house again. The courtroom was the only place she would willingly set eyes on him.
Nate’s confession had torn her apart. She’d been protected by ignorance, but he’d suffered for years from Hal’s cruelty, physically and mentally. Would it help him recover now that he’d shared his awful secret with her? God, she hoped so. And if Hal was caught, convicted, and imprisoned, Nate might even have a better chance.
Those thoughts drove her back to the guilty burden of not disclosing the pornography if it could aid in her stepdad’s capture. She remembered Sean’s suggestion to put off her decision until after the funeral. Since she seemed incapable of doing anything but doting on Callie at the moment, that was probably sound advice.
Her heart ached from her decision to push Sean out of her life. Already she felt the void. How could he have taken a place in her heart again in such a short time? Unfortunately, she knew the answer, although she could barely admit it to herself.
She loved Sean Burke. She’d never stopped loving him even when he’d broken her heart. She’d been angry, damn angry, and she had used that emotion to bury the love. But now the revelation of Hal’s deception had destroyed the anger, leaving the love to surface again.
How she wished she could tell Sean that she loved him. How wonderful it would be if the circumstances were different and they could have a real second chance. But too many things stood in the way: his LAPD job, her shattered life, her traumatized daughter. If ever there was a bad time, it was now. Hanging on to another chance in the future just seemed like an invitation for more heartache.
On Friday came the news that Hal’s truck—at least what was left of it—had been located in a chop shop in Imperial Beach, which wasn’t far from San Ysidro and the Mexican border. The discovery four days after his disappearance solidified Jessie’s belief that he had escaped into Mexico to live out his days safe from U.S. extradition and punishment. Shortly after the phone call from a sheriff’s deputy, she made the gut-wrenching decision to disclose the pornography in hopes it would motivate the Mexican authorities to find Hal Freeman. As painful as the nasty publicity would be, she just wouldn’t be able to live with herself if she didn’t do everything in her power to put the monster behind bars. On Monday, she would tell Detective Cramer the horrible Freeman family secret.
Friday afternoon, she tackled the heartbreaking job of telling Callie that her beloved grandma was never coming back. The little girl cried a long time before asking about her missing grandfather. Jessie wasn’t sure how to answer that question. She ended up ducking the issue by saying lots of people were looking for him. Thank goodness Callie didn’t want to know why he’d gone missing.
Then her daughter asked about Mr. Sean, of course. Jessie had foolishly hoped the subject wouldn’t come up, but since Callie had asked about Sean several times since Wednesday evening, it shouldn’t have been a big surprise. Jessie reassured her that he wasn’t dead or missing, just busy getting ready to go back to his real home in LA. Obviously, Callie had thought Glenn’s apartment was Sean’s home, so the news came as a shock. She crumpled into a sobbing heap in her mother’s lap, making Jessie feel like a monster.
Friday night, exhausted and lonely, Jessie cried herself to sleep. There were so many reasons: the death of her mother, the crimes of her stepfather, Callie’s exposure to violence and loss, and the failure of her second chance with Sean. She wished with all her heart that he, instead of Callie, was in bed with her. At least they had shared a few special nights in the past week. She would cling to those memories to get through the dark, difficult days ahead.
Saturday morning dawned clear and warm. Moving as if in a trance, she got herself and Callie ready for the funeral. Nate had gone home to get ready but returned half an hour before the limo was to pick them up. Uncle Chad arrived a few minutes later.
Callie was watching a movie in the living room and the adults were sitting at the kitchen table when Jessie’s cell rang. She considered not answering but dug it out of her purse after the fourth ring.
“Ms. Hargrove, I have some news,” Detective Cramer greeted her.
“I’m leaving for my mother’s funeral in a few minutes.”
“I’m sorry to interrupt.” He hesitated. “But it’s about your stepdad. It might…ease your mind a little today.”
She stiffened. Had they found the bastard?
“What is it?” Nate asked, placing his hand reassuringly on her shoulder.
She put her finger over the mic. “It’s Detective Cramer. Something about Hal.”
“You want me to talk to him?”
She shook her head. “Will it take long, Detective?”
“Just a minute or two, unless you have questions.”
“All right. Nate and Uncle Chad are here, so I’m going to put you on speaker.” She pressed the button and laid the phone on the table. “Go ahead.”
“A pair of shoes with a handwritten note stuck inside were found this morning on the Imperial Beach pier. The note’s addressed to Jessie, Nate, and Chad.”
Her heart thumped unevenly, and she felt the blood drain from her face.
“It’s signed ‘Hal.’ It appears to be…a suicide note.”
Her lips began to tremble. “Is it t-true or a r-ruse?”
“We’ll have to confirm the handwriting and shoes are his. Maybe we can get a fingerprint match. He
probably heard on the news that we found Molly’s body, so he knew we had him dead to rights for the murder. Frankly, I’m not completely surprised he took this way out.”
Nate cleared his throat and glanced at Chad. “Have you found the body?”
“Not yet. We’re going to send down some divers, but they aren’t optimistic about finding the body.”
“Why not?” Chad asked.
“The shoes were kind of hidden, so they might’ve been there awhile. And the ink on the note is smeared, probably from the fog. Since the body hasn’t washed up on the beach, the tide has most likely already carried him out to sea.”
“Good riddance,” Nate muttered.
“I don’t want to keep you any longer, Ms. Hargrove. I’ll have a deputy drop a copy of the note by your house later today. I need the original until we close the case.”
“Thank you, Detective.” Jessie disconnected.
They sat in silence for several minutes.
Jessie stared at her clasped hands resting on the table. She couldn’t quite believe the news. Is it over? Truly and completely over? This unexpected phone call had saved her from making the difficult one she’d planned for Monday.
The heinous family secret was safe. No one would ever need to know.
* * *
Sean kept his distance from Jess at the funeral, honoring her wishes by sitting at the back of the packed church. Apparently, most of Ramona wanted to say good-bye to Molly Freeman. Luke and Karla, who was still bruised and battered, sat next to him. She mentioned plans to take Callie and Jess to a friend’s cabin at Big Bear Lake for a week. He agreed that getting them out of town was an excellent idea.
Luke gave him the news about the discovery on the Imperial Beach pier. The deputy sounded slightly suspicious that Hal had gone down with a whimper instead of a bang, but he didn’t dwell on it. It seemed Detective Cramer and the other authorities were satisfied with the suicide evidence. Thank you, Stone.
His heart squeezed as he watched Jess and Callie at the graveside service. When Callie kissed her grandma’s coffin and whispered she loved her, there wasn’t a dry eye in attendance.
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