“The two of them thought they were heroes. They were planning to report me to the Bishop in Cheyenne. They were misguided. They thought I was hurting their friend and they wanted to protect him. Connor saw it differently. That’s why he came to me and told me what they were going to do.” He spread his arms wide. “If they’d gone through with it, it would have ruined everything. I would have been transferred away from Connor. He’d have been left all alone. I couldn’t let that happen.”
“So you rigged the ropes on the belay line and counted on the two boys falling to their death.”
“That was the plan, yes.”
“Why did Stacey have to die?”
He looked at Connor again. “You were in a wild panic that Friday night she came to the sacristy and found us together. I promised you I’d take care of it, that I’d talk to her and calm her down and everything would be fine. I sent you home and went to talk to Stacey. Needless to say, it didn’t go as planned.”
“You must have lived in fear all these years,” I said, “always wondering if Max would regain his memory and figure out what you’d done.”
“That’s right, Dr. Hunt, and he wouldn’t have remembered anything if it wasn’t for you and your work with him. In the end, it’s your fault that everything came back to him. And what was the first thing he wanted to do? Finish what he started ten years ago. That’s what he came to tell me at the church. He wanted me to know he was going to the authorities. I refused to be brought down and humiliated by Max Hart.” He said the name with contempt. “He thought he understood things he knew nothing about. What Connor and I shared was no common sexual hookup. We loved each other. No one has the right to destroy love.”
“You were a priest and Connor was a child when it started,” I said.
“Age and time make no difference. I thought you’d understand.”
“I tried to end it so many times,” Connor said, his voice ragged and raw. “You wouldn’t let me go.”
Bellamy shook his head. “How could I let you go? You needed me.”
“It was you who needed me.” Connor was crying now. “I loved Stacey. I wanted a life with her.”
“But it was nothing compared to what we had. She was a useful prop. No one would question your sexual orientation. You could rise to the heights of your career with her by your side. And I wanted that for you. Marrying Stacey was part of the plan. But she ruined it by threatening to do the same thing her brother wanted to do. It was bad enough she wanted to take you away from me. I couldn’t believe you were going to go along with that. But that she would expose us both? It would have ruined your career, and mine as well. She had to be stopped.”
Connor shook his head, tears running down his face.
“Dr. Hunt, I wanted you here because you have the knowledge base to understand what happened, to be able to tell my story, the true story,” Bellamy said. “The rest of the world will see me as a sexual deviant and predator who should be arrested and charged. As a psychologist, I imagine you would characterize me as a narcissist. But I’m just a wounded soul. And even wounded souls need love.”
“So why kill yourself?” I asked. “You might have gotten away with the murders.”
“Connor finally put it all together. I killed three people for him, for us. And instead of getting the love and loyalty I deserve, he’s done with me. The love is gone. So what’s the point of living?”
“You played God and took lives that weren’t yours to take,” Connor said. “You came here to do it again. You’re going to take your own life because you can’t face the consequences, can’t face who you are and what you did. You want these people here to tell your story. It’s not going to happen that way.” He pulled out a pistol and pointed it at Bellamy.
“Connor,” I said, inching toward him slowly, “it’s not worth shooting him. You didn’t murder anyone. You have a life to live.”
“I won’t shoot to kill, but I’ll shoot him in his tracks if he makes a move to go over that ledge,” he snarled. “I want him to face it all. The real punishment is knowing everyone knows what you did. You believe what you want is more important than what anyone else wants.”
“I did it for you—to protect your future!” Bellamy said.
“You can’t brainwash me anymore,” Connor said. “Everything you did, you did for yourself. You killed Tim and Max and Stacey because you didn’t want to be exposed as a perverted priest. You took everything from me. Put your hands behind your head and walk toward me.”
Bellamy did as he was told. I didn’t like that he was moving closer to us. I wished that Antelope would show himself and take over. I didn’t trust that Connor could keep control over the man who had ruled his life for so many years.
It happened so fast—Bellamy turning and overtaking Connor, grabbing the gun as Connor struggled to free himself, then flinging Connor away. Connor losing his balance, falling, and rolling so close to the edge of the rock I thought he might go over. Bellamy standing above him and aiming the pistol at his head. Connor springing up and going for the gun again.
Then a shot rang out, and both men dropped to the ground.
Bellamy howled and writhed in agony, but it was only a superficial wound to his arm that had brought him down.
Antelope quickly took control. He had Bellamy cuffed in seconds. That done, he examined the wound, made a tourniquet from his T-shirt, and re-cuffed Bellamy’s wrists in front of him to keep pressure on the wound.
The way back was easier in the moonlight. Kelly and I followed the three men out, Todd Bellamy inching slowly along the narrow path in front of Antelope, the detective’s hand anchored firmly on his shoulder.
CHAPTER 63
In the summer, the Black Tiara set up an outside dining area with wrought-iron tables, cordoning them off from the parking lot with ropes of flowers.
The scene had a Parisian-café vibe until you got up close and noticed the flowers were plastic. The smell of black asphalt from the parking lot mixed with Chinese cooking in the hot afternoon sun. The surrounding lot was overgrown with tall summer grasses swaying in a breeze that would turn into a stronger wind as the afternoon wore on.
After spending the morning at the Sweetwater County District Court, where Todd Bellamy was arraigned on three first-degree murder counts—he would remain in custody at the Sweetwater Detention Center until the trial date in October—we arrived at the Black Tiara for lunch. It was one o’clock, a late hour by Green River’s lunch schedule, and the restaurant was empty.
Antelope chose an outside table farthest from the street traffic. He pulled out a chair for me before sitting down across from me. A waiter came out and set water and silverware on the table. Antelope ordered a pitcher of margaritas.
“You were right,” he said. “No matter how special Bellamy believes himself to be, as a killer he’s just like all the other guys, trying to get away with crime, motivated by concealment.”
“He refused to take responsibility for his actions and he wasn’t willing to pay the price for what he did wrong.”
“Because he never saw it as wrong, because he’s a narcissist.”
I smiled. “You’re getting good at this.”
“I’ve got a good teacher,” he said.
The waiter brought our margaritas and we placed our food orders. Antelope poured us each a glass and we clinked them together before taking our first sips.
“If Max hadn’t heard about that priest getting arrested,” Antelope mused, “do you think he could have gone his whole life without remembering what was done to him as a kid?”
“Absolutely. The human mind has creative ways to deal with what’s too overwhelming or horrific to handle. All the defense mechanisms work to protect us. The heaviest hitter is denial. Max’s brain injury made it even easier for him to shove those memories out of his head.”
“It’s an efficient and effective way to deal with the bullshit until a priest is arrested and the denial collapses. What about all the other hundreds of case
s like this that have been all over the news for years? Why didn’t he get flashbacks when he heard about other priests molesting kids?”
“Max had his own problems with sex and intimacy that made normal relationships difficult and were a result of the abuse he suffered at Father Kroll’s hands. Like many victims, he blamed himself for it and felt guilty about it. When the Greybull priest was exposed for engaging in the same sexual acts Max enjoyed, his brain made connections between all those different factors: priests, sexual deviance, sexual abuse. The combination unlocked his memory.”
“The one I don’t understand is Collins.” Antelope shook his head. “Ten years leading a double life hooking up with a priest while making plans to marry a woman. How does that happen?”
“Todd Bellamy is a sociopath who cared only for his own needs. He’s grandiose and entitled. Connor Collins shares some of those features, and Bellamy played into his need to feel special. He lost his parents when he was very young and lived with an elderly grandmother who didn’t have the energy, physical or emotional, to meet his needs. He fit the description of the perfect victim of a child molester. Kids need love and physical touch. Abusers are keenly aware of this need. They identify vulnerable kids and make their moves on them.”
We paused while the waiter set our food down in front of us. I thought what a strange conversation ours must be to overhear as he backed away.
Antelope picked up his sandwich, but stopped short of taking a bite. “Wait, you said kids need love. That’s not love, it’s abuse and exploitation.”
I shrugged. “It’s complicated. If the abuser isn’t violent, the attention and the touch can be experienced as pleasurable. That’s certainly not true in all cases, but in some it is. And those kids end up feeling guilty because they enjoyed it. That’s what happened for Connor the second time around, right? By then he’s older and beginning to get interested in sex, and along comes Bellamy with this deal that includes special attention and sexual pleasure.”
“He was too weak to resist.”
“He was getting stronger—or at least, he was leaning less on Bellamy. Over time, it seems, he transferred much of his need for love and protection from Bellamy to Stacey. Things might have worked out for the two of them if he’d taken that job in Evanston and gotten more distance, geographic and emotional, from Bellamy.”
“He wasn’t that strong. He was still turning to the priest whenever things got tough with Stacey. If he hadn’t gone to the church that night, Stacey wouldn’t have found the two of them together.”
“We can’t know if he ever would have made the break,” I admitted. “He says he wanted to, but he let it go on for fifteen years.”
“Then there’s Stacey. Why do you think she went for Swailes? That happened well before she knew about Connor and Bellamy.”
I’d thought about this a lot. “He was the opposite of Connor—decisive and willing to act. He wanted her and he went after her.”
“He’s also an abusive, violent guy. That wasn’t going to change.”
“It seems to me that he was drawn to Stacey because he wanted to be a better man. He thought if he had a good woman, he could become the man she deserved.”
“Poor Stacey: two men, broken in different ways, both in love with her and wanting her to change them with her love. But that’s not love, is it?”
I tilted my margarita glass toward him. “You’re a smart man.”
“Just trying to figure out this love thing like everybody else.”
“The private clinic in Arizona Connor’s going to should help him deal with everything. We both did some research and I think this place has the right approach and the level of expertise to handle his complicated situation. When you think about it, every part of his world collapsed. He still has some money left over from the church settlement and he plans to sell the house. He can’t imagine living there after what happened to Stacey. He said he’ll spend every penny he has to get the help he needs.”
“Can therapy help him? You said he’s a narcissist; they’re hard to treat, right?”
“He has a lot of work to do. There are the losses to grieve, the trauma to heal, and the narcissistic and passive personality traits that allowed him to remain in the situation he was in. Even as an adult, it can be overwhelming to process the kind of sexual abuse he’s suffered. As memories come back, so do the feelings—anger, sadness, outrage at what’s been taken from him. He’s just beginning to realize that his whole life, not only his sexual life, has been changed by what Bellamy did to him.”
Antelope switched topics. “Mrs. Hart and Kelly sat together at the arraignment.”
I nodded. “Kelly stopped in to see me last week. She wanted to tell me she finally got around to telling Fern about Max being her son’s father. She said they’ve been spending a lot of time together and Timmy’s happy to have a second grandmother. In September, he’ll go to Fern’s after-school daycare program.”
“That’s a bright spot.” Antelope frowned. “I worried about Fern, both of her kids murdered. How do you live with that?”
“There’s no simple answer. The strength of love determines the depth of the grief. It always helps to find a way to continue loving. Fern has Timmy now.” I cocked my head to the left. “Have you heard from Kelly?”
“You’re asking because of how I couldn’t think straight around her?”
“Yes.”
“I settled it the night we went to Pagan Cave.”
I gave him a puzzled look.
“After all the driving around—getting Bellamy processed into custody, you and Kelly back to your place, Collins home—I was beat and thought I’d crash the minute I hit the bed. But I couldn’t sleep. I got in my car and started to drive with no idea where I was going. I found myself driving up your road. I wanted to see you but it didn’t feel right to wake you up. So I watched your place, and it felt good knowing you were inside asleep and safe.” He smiled. “It was peaceful. The moon came up, high and bright, and the town looked shiny, the way it can when it’s at its best. I closed my eyes for a minute and probably would have slept there all night except Kelly opened the door just then and climbed in beside me. I woke up real fast.”
I chuckled. “I’ll bet.”
“We said a few things to each other. You know how it is when you go through something as powerful as this; talking can help give it a meaning you can live with. She’s been through a lot in life, and she needed to take a minute to put this thing we’d shared in perspective.”
“That makes sense.” I was trying to maintain a calm composure, but his words were making my cheeks grow warm.
He stared down into his margarita. “In the end I felt it was important that she understand why I was there, why I drove back to your house that night even though the work was done, the case was closed, and I was dead tired. I needed to be where you were. Kelly knows I came back for you.” He lifted his eyes, looked straight into mine. “And now you know, too.”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I am proud and grateful to have the second book in the Dr. Pepper Hunt Mystery series published by the stellar teams at She Writes Press and SparkPoint Studio.
Brooke Warner, Crystal Patriarche, and Lauren Wise set an incomparable standard in the publishing industry, and it’s an honor to be among the fine authors and books they endorse and present to the world.
I enjoyed working again with Krissa Lagos, whose keen editorial eye and sense of story fine-tuned the manuscript. Thanks are also due to proofreader Chris Dumas for his precise work.
Renowned designer Julie Metz captured the mood of the book with a magically evocative cover.
The contribution of friends and family who read early drafts and shared thoughtful suggestions helped define the scope of this story.
It was easier writing the second book having experienced the unanticipated joy that came from meeting readers who generously told me they loved the first book. Readers are a delight and an enduring motivation to keep writing through th
e solitary hours.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Author photo by Staceydoyle.com
J.L. Doucette returned to Rhode Island after living for many years in Wyoming. She earned a doctorate in counseling psychology from Boston University and has a private practice in Providence.
SELECTED TITLES FROM SHE WRITES PRESS
She Writes Press is an independent publishing company founded to serve women writers everywhere. Visit us at www.shewritespress.com.
Last Seen by J. L. Doucette. $16.95, 978-1-63152-202-4. When a traumatized reporter goes missing in the Wyoming wilderness, the therapist who knows her secrets is drawn into the investigation—and she comes face-to-face with terrifying answers regarding her own difficult past.
Glass Shatters by Michelle Meyers. $16.95, 978-1-63152-018-1. Following the mysterious disappearance of his wife and daughter, scientist Charles Lang goes to desperate lengths to escape his past and reinvent himself.
Water On the Moon by Jean P. Moore. $16.95, 978-1-938314-61-2. When her home is destroyed in a freak accident, Lidia Raven, a divorced mother of two, is plunged into a mystery that involves her entire family.
Murder Under The Bridge: A Palestine Mystery by Kate Raphael. $16.95, 978-1-63152-960-3. Rania, a Palestinian police detective with a young son, meets cheeky Jewish-American feminist Chloe at an Israeli checkpoint—and soon becomes embroiled in a murder case that implicates the highest echelons of the Israeli military.
In the Shadow of Lies: A Mystery Novel by M. A. Adler. $16.95, 978-1-938314-82-7. As World War II comes to a close, homicide detective Oliver Wright returns home—only to find himself caught up in the investigation of a complicated murder case rife with racial tensions.
The Wiregrass by Pam Webber. $16.95, 978-1-63152-943-6. A story about a summer of discontent, change, and dangerous mysteries in a small Southern Wiregrass town.
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