by Jen Talty
“I’m not sure I can handle that.” But Jackson wasn’t going to stop the man.
“Have you ever met her stepmother, Annette?”
Jackson shook his head. “Just her mother, Melinda.”
“She’s a piece of work. Fucking bitch turned a blind eye to the whole thing and still pretends it never happened.”
Jackson swallowed.
“But Annette, she’s something else. And she did something about it.”
“Did what?”
“This is where it gets really dicey, and I don’t know the whole story, but I’ve always suspected that Dwight was one of the leaders in the sex club ring, and that Shannon was a victim. She disappeared from—”
“What do you mean, disappeared?”
“She went to rehab.” Jerome used his fingers to make air quotes. “But I was never able to verify that.
The baby.
“I wanted to put a tail on Dwight, but my captain wouldn’t let me. By that time, a few years had passed, other sex crimes had come and gone, and no more girls had come forward.”
Jackson balled his fists. “Did anyone talk to Shannon?”
“She was a minor. We couldn’t. Not without her parents present. We approached her mother, and that didn’t go over well. But Annette, she was a different story, though she wasn’t a parent or a guardian.”
“How long were Annette and Shannon’s father married?”
“Less than three years,” Jeromy said. “Thing is, we busted an orgy at the motel up by Hoisers Bar two weeks before Dwight died. One young man by the name of Alex Angler worked for Dwight. That was enough for my captain to give me the thumbs-up to at least have a conversation. When I got nowhere with the mother, I went to Annette. I was disappointed that she defended her husband so vehemently, but I could tell she was totally disgusted by what I told her.”
“Do you think she knew what was going on?”
Jeromy shook his head. “No. Actually, I think the poor woman was shocked. A week later, the man was dead.”
“Are you accusing Annette of killing him?”
Jeromy shook his head. “No. The man died of a heart attack. But I question her story.”
“Could you please just be direct?”
“She told the first responders that she went to bed before her husband and woke up to find him dead. But she told me that he was asleep when she came to bed but had been complaining of heartburn.”
“That sounds like you believe Annette had a hand in his death.”
“What I believe is that Dwight was a monster, and while Ned wouldn’t tell me shit eighteen years ago or even ten years ago, he’s since had a change of heart and has been slowly giving me some information, in a weird way. The players have changed, but not how the club works.”
Jackson pinched the bridge of his nose. “I live next to Shannon, and for the last few days, I’ve seen Ned’s car at the top of my driveway. Why?”
“You’d have to ask him that.”
“I’m asking you.”
“Best guess is he’s concerned, considering the sex clubs have been popping up left and right lately.” Jeromy stood. “Perhaps it’s time you have a long, serious chat with Shannon.”
Jackson planned on doing exactly that. But first, he had to try to find Lilly. His cell vibrated in his back pocket. He pulled it out and glanced at the screen.
Katie.
“Hey, partner, what’s up?” He meandered toward his pickup.
“I’ve got some interesting news.”
“Lay it on me.” He pointed his key fob toward his vehicle. It beeped twice, igniting Jackson’s headache.
“First, I just scanned and emailed some information that came over from the adoption agency in Rochester where Shannon gave birth.”
“And?”
“I didn’t read it all, but we found her daughter.”
Jackson tossed his cowboy hat across the cab of his truck. He’d need to rifle through that file before telling Shannon anything. “What else?”
“You might want to hold onto your hat for this one. Janice, Belinda’s roommate, well, she was involved in the sex ring.”
“Excuse me? Isn’t that mainly men with sex addictions who like young girls, and in some cases boys?”
“That’s one aspect, but it seems this particular ring is filled with all sorts of surprises. And I have a name of a man that Janice says is at the center of it.”
“You talked to Janice?”
“She was arrested an hour ago,” Katie said. “She and a few friends were at a hotel having a party, and at the center of that little gathering was a young boy performing sex acts with adults.”
“That’s gross.”
“I know, but she gave up the name of the man who brought her in and sets everything up. His name is Alex Angler.”
“What do you know about him?”
“Not much. I’ll work on it tonight and send you an email as soon as I have something.”
“I appreciate it. I’ll check in later.” He climbed behind the steering wheel and contemplated calling Shannon, but what would he say? He’d wait until he had more or until he saw her in person.
Jackson spent half the night combing the streets for a drug addict and her kid and found nothing but reminders of why he shouldn’t be looking for Shannon’s daughter. It didn’t matter that he knew that Shannon’s motivations were pure. She wouldn’t intentionally harm her daughter, but just coming into her kid’s life could cause a ripple effect of emotions that couldn’t be stopped.
However, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shake the idea that what had happened to Belinda and her new boyfriend and their crazy, weird sex ring was somehow related to Shannon’s uncle.
And maybe the reason Shannon had given up her daughter.
Or had gotten pregnant in the first place.
Not to mention, Shannon’s father and the cold, harsh words that Jeromy had spoken about Dwight Brendel.
Jackson swallowed the bile that smacked the back of his throat as he pulled into the shared driveway and his parking spot next to Shannon’s SUV. The sun peeked out over the mountains, turning the night sky into morning. He slipped from behind the steering wheel, surprised to see Shannon standing on the dock in front of Sweet Freedom.
Stuffing his keys into his pocket, he adjusted his cowboy hat and made his way down the path. If he’d gotten an hour’s worth of sleep, it would have been a miracle. He would need to rest his eyes for a few hours at some point, but for now, he needed to have this chat with Shannon. He hoped he had the energy for it, because it wasn’t going to be pretty.
She glanced over her shoulder as his feet hit the wooden planks.
“Did you get any sleep? You look like hell.”
“Gee, thanks,” he said with a smile. “I might have dozed off for a few minutes here or there in my car.”
“Now I feel terrible for asking you to go looking for Lilly.”
“Don’t. I’m happy to help.” He ran a hand up and down her forearm. “We have a lot to talk about, and I don’t want to do it standing on this dock.” He tilted his head toward the aft of his boat.
Her eyes went wide, and she shook her head.
“Why not? It’s just a sailboat. It doesn’t bite.”
“Actually, it does.” She plopped herself onto the dock and dangled her feet in the water.
“Do you want to tell me what happened that makes you so afraid of sailboats?” he asked.
“I’m not afraid of them. It’s just not something I enjoy.”
“I’m not asking you to go sailing. Just to have a seat on the stern where it’s more comfortable.” Jackson rubbed his chin, and his mind continued to form a picture that soured his belly and squeezed his heart.
“I’m comfortable right here,” she said. “I take it you didn’t find Lilly.”
“No sign of her or her mother anywhere. Not a single one of her mother’s old friends has heard from her.”
“That’s disturbing,” Shan
non said. “That’s usually the first place addicts go, even with a kid in tow.”
“I know.” Jackson kicked off his boots, tugged off his socks, rolled up his jeans, and joined her on the dock, wishing he could talk her into his plush stern sofa. But he wouldn’t push that today. Not when he was about to poke a different bear, and especially not before he told her he’d found her daughter. “Katie is still pounding the pavement.”
“I feel like I’m using you and your business partner.”
He looped his arm around her waist. “We’re invested in this case in more ways than one.”
“What does that mean?”
“There are a lot of moving parts that don’t seem to be connected but are.” He had no idea how to approach the subject. He suspected that she’d dealt with the pains of her childhood, considering she was a therapist who specialized in addiction, though her ritual and her inability to board his boat spoke volumes. “For example, your uncle Ned and what he was involved in when he was arrested. And your client, Belinda, and what she, her new boyfriend, and her roommate were doing with some guy by the name of Alex Angler.”
“Alex Angler?” The name scorched Shannon’s throat as she barely managed to say the words. She tried to swallow, but her muscles wouldn’t work.
A slight breeze kicked up, rattling the sail against the mast of Jackson’s sailboat.
A guttural sob filled her gut. She gasped.
“Are you all right?” Jackson asked.
She sucked in a deep breath, but it didn’t fill her lungs. “Are you sure he’s involved?” She would have never come back to Lake George if any of those five men still lived in the area. Two of them had retired and moved south. One was dead. And that left Alex and Borden. She believed that Borden lived in San Diego now and was told that Alex had a career in New York City. She worried that he might vacation up here or visit, but she hadn’t seen him since the day she’d buried her father.
“You know him?”
“Don’t answer a question with a question.” Tears stung her eyes. Her body shook from the inside out. When she decided to find her little girl, she’d stirred up a lot of emotional baggage, and that had brought back the night that she knew—without a doubt—that her daughter had been conceived. She glanced over her shoulder and stared at the stupid Tartan. Damn fucking gorgeous sailboat. If she were any other woman, she’d give her right arm to go for a ride on the stupid thing.
“Based on my intel, I’m sure he’s the ringleader,” Jackson said. “How do you know him?”
“He knew my father,” Shannon admitted, clutching her pendant. She ran her finger up and down the feather. When she’d first met Alex, he was a nineteen-year-old kid working at her father’s office for the summer. She’d just turned fourteen.
A year later, she was stuck in the bow of her father’s boat while Alex and a few of her father’s so-called friends took turns with her while dear old Dad sat behind the helm, drinking his beer and soaking in the sun. She actually didn’t know what he did or thought. By the time he made his way to the galley, he was drunk, and she was curled up in a ball in a corner.
At first, Alex had been sort of sweet and gentle. It was as if he wasn’t sure what he was doing or why, and the first time she’d ever done a line of cocaine had been with him. He’d taught her how to numb the pain. For a short time, he’d been sort of a friend.
Until he changed.
And not for the better.
“I take it you knew him, as well?” Jackson looped his arm around her waist, giving her a gentle squeeze.
She stiffened.
He dropped his hand.
But she couldn’t relax.
“Shannon. I don’t like asking you to talk about things that upset you. However, your patient’s murder appears to be connected to this man. With your uncle’s history and him showing up, my mind is forming a pretty ugly picture of what happened to you.”
“I can’t do this.” Her heart raced.
“You’re going to have to. The police will be questioning you about what you know, especially since a couple of your patients are involved.”
This couldn’t be happening. Her past couldn’t be colliding with her present. Her mother had always told her it was best to keep skeletons locked up in the closet, never letting them out.
Could she have let out her worst nightmare by starting the search for her kid?
She jumped up but lost her footing. Her arms flapped wildly as she tried to regain her balance.
Jackson reached for her, but it was too late as she splashed into the icy waters of Lake George.
Her body jerked. She kicked and scrambled for the surface. As soon as her head lifted out of the water, she gasped for air. “Holy mother of God, that’s fucking cold.”
Jackson leaned over and heaved her out of the water. He lifted her into his arms and jogged down the dock.
“Put me down,” she said.
“When I get you inside and wrapped in a towel.” He adjusted her in his arms. “I’ll put on a pot of coffee, make you some breakfast, and we’ll—”
“I can’t.”
He kissed her cheek before bending over and opening her back door.
“You don’t understand.”
He set her down by the bathroom door and found a towel, handing it to her. “Try me.”
“You’ll just judge me for not doing anything.”
“You were a child,” he said with a dark tone. “Why don’t you go get some dry clothes on, and I’ll make you something to eat? When do you have to leave for the office?”
“I don’t. I canceled all my appointments today, and I’ll be doing paperwork from home. One of the detectives will be stopping by around lunch.” Flashes of her childhood filled her mind. The fear that tore through her soul with the first contraction tugged at her heart. The sound of her little girl crying filled her ears.
That child was innocent.
She hadn’t asked to be born from violence.
But she deserved a chance at a good life, and Shannon wanted to give her that.
Jackson held her chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Let me in, Shannon. I’m on your side. Telling me what you know, what happened to you, before you have to explain any of it to the police will only make it easier.”
Breathe. Just breathe. “Okay. Give me five minutes.” She turned and raced up the stairs, tears streaming down her face. She stepped into her bedroom and took her cell from its cradle on the nightstand. She found Annette’s contact information and hit send.
“Hi, dear, what’s going on?”
Shannon sobbed.
“Honey, what’s the matter?”
“Alex Angler is back.”
Silence on the other end.
“Did you hear me?”
“I did,” Annette said. “How do you know?”
“He’s heading up a sex ring that my clients are involved in. My patients, Annette. Mine. Don’t you think that’s a little convenient?” She sniffled. “Do you remember what he said to me at Dad’s funeral?” She shivered. Alex had had the audacity to wrap his arms around her, pull her close, and whisper in her ear, “Someday, I’ll return for what is rightfully mine.”
Did he actually believe Shannon belonged to him?
“I do,” Annette said calmly. “Honey. Where are you?”
“At home.”
“Are you alone?”
“Jackson’s here.” Shannon set the phone to speaker and towel-dried her hair as she slipped out of her wet clothes. “He’s the one who told me.”
“I’m glad you’re not alone. I take it you’ve told him everything?”
“No. But he’s pieced most of it together, and I’m going to have to tell the police what I know.” Shannon stood in front of her mirror in her bra and panties and pressed her hand over her stomach, fingering her stretch marks. The one thing she could never truly hide. Of course, she always wore one-piece bathing suits, and she’d told the few men who questioned her about it that she used t
o be fat as a kid.
“You’ve kept this locked up inside you for so long. And I get why, but—”
“I know I have to.” Standing there staring at herself, a grown woman who’d survived some of the worst trauma a child could ever have to endure, she realized she’d done it. She’d made something of herself, and she’d be damned if she would let her past—Alex—ruin everything she’d worked so hard for.
“Would you like me to drive up tonight?” Annette asked.
“Do you mind putting that on the back burner for now? I’ll call you this afternoon.”
“I’ll clear my schedule for the rest of the weekend. Hubby will understand.”
“Thanks, Annette. I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
Shannon let out a long breath, tapped the red circle on her cell, turned, and gasped. Wrapping her hands around her middle, she stared at Jackson, holding two mugs.
“Oh, shit. I’m sorry.” He turned. “I just thought you might like some coffee.”
“I do.” She snagged an oversized T-shirt and pulled it over her head, then hiked up a pair of sweatpants. “I’m decent.” She plopped herself onto the bed and took the cup he offered. “I owe you an apology for how I just reacted.”
“No. You don’t.” He leaned against the window and brought the coffee to his lips and blew.
“When I asked you to find my little girl, I never expected what the next few days would bring up.”
“You have a great view of my sailboat.” Jackson opened the curtains. “I have a lot of things swirling around in my brain and...” He let his words trail off while he ran a hand over his face. “My youngest sister is the only one of us that has a relationship with her birth mother.”
“What does—”
He held up his hand. “All of us had questions about where we came from—at least the biology. But Jeanie, my youngest sister, when she went looking for her birth parents, she had just turned eighteen. All my other sisters had relatively positive experiences, and my birth mother hadn’t come gunning for me yet.”
“You make it sound like your mother was a predator.”
“She was.” Jackson took another long sip of his coffee. “But you’re not, and neither is Hannah.”