"No," she said, shaking her head. "I can't do that. They'll take my baby."
"You mean Dylan's baby?"
She found herself unable to reply. She simply used her hand to wipe the tears that drenched her cheeks.
George walked slowly over to her, pointing in her face again. "I am going to do you the biggest favor. I am not going to tell anyone this is Dylan's baby. However, you are going to go down to the police station right now, and you are going to tell them you framed Dylan. Do I make myself clear?"
"I can't do that," she said again.
"Well, then, my darling sister," George replied, "the whole world is going to find out exactly whose child this is."
Chapter 32
"You wouldn't," Melissa said pleadingly, looking her brother in the eye.
"Make no mistake about it," George replied, "I will shout it from the rooftops if you don't help get Dylan out of prison."
She closed her eyes, taking a moment to consider her options. She'd been had, and she knew it. She had planned everything so perfectly; she couldn't believe that something as simple as eye color was going to be her downfall.
She also knew her brother…there was no way he would have allowed an innocent man to stay in jail. The truth about the frame up was going to come out one way or the other. The only question was whether the world was going to know that Dylan had fathered her baby.
"So," she began slowly, "if I go to the police and tell them I made a mistake...that I forgot that I left that stuff at Dylan's and he didn't actually steal it...you won't tell anyone that this is his baby?"
"I won't say anything, but Dylan might figure it out. After all, it was nine months ago that you fucked him, wasn't it?"
She clenched her fist as the baby started to fuss more loudly in her arms. Dylan would have inevitably figured out this baby was his, or at least there was a good chance he was. In a panic, she thought back to all the conversations she'd had with Dylan. He wouldn't have wanted to be a father. There was no way he would have been willing to take on that much responsibility. If she threatened him with child support, he most likely would have denied the paternity anyway.
Confident that Dylan wouldn't want any claim over J.J., even if he did figure it out, she simply whispered, "Okay. I'll go to the police." Her whole body trembled as she added, "Just let me finish feeding the baby first."
Melissa drove, but George insisted on riding in the passenger seat. She supposed he wanted to make sure she actually went to the police and didn't just drive around for a couple of hours. Fucking George. He was always such a do-gooder.
"Dylan was an asshole, you know," she told him.
George didn't reply. He just looked out the window.
"There was a reason his family hated him. He was a mean-spirited pathological liar."
"Are you really calling him a mean-spirited pathological liar?"
Melissa gripped the wheel. "He was diabolical. He enjoyed being mean. I didn't enjoy this."
"Are you trying to gain my sympathy? Because it's not going to happen."
"He would have ended up back in jail again anyway, you know. He was a career criminal. There was no way he'd have been able to straighten his shit out. I might be going through all of this only to turn around and have him right back in prison in a month."
"We're just going to have to find that out, now, aren't we?"
Melissa didn't say anything else, focusing instead on formulating a quick story to tell the police. She didn't have much time to come up with something plausible, so she'd have to think on her feet. It was a good thing she'd spent her entire adult life lying through her teeth. That skill was about to come in handy, potentially being the only thing that could save her ass at this point.
She felt like she was having an out-of-body experience as she parked the car at the police station. Fluttering nerves threatened to take over her body, but she willed them away. She'd need to be strong and calm if she was going to pull this off. With one quick breath, she opened the car door and got out, retrieving J.J. out of the backseat. She looked at his innocent, sleeping face and hoped he would win her some sympathy points with the person interviewing her.
Holding the infant carrier, she walked with George through the front doors of the station. They approached a desk, where a young uniformed officer sat behind a glass. Before she had the chance to open her mouth, George announced to the man behind the counter, "Hi, this is Melissa Schuster; she's here to make a confession."
If George wasn't careful, he'd be next on her list of people to destroy.
The police officer looked back and forth between the George and Melissa, apparently caught off guard by the situation. "One moment," he eventually said, picking up a landline. Seconds later, he pointed toward a door on the side of the room. "I'll buzz you in. Officer Martin will meet you in the lobby."
An obnoxious hum signaled the door was unlocked; George grabbed the handle and pulled, holding it open for Melissa. She walked shamefully through, beginning the theatrics that would hopefully end up condemning her to little more than a slap on the wrist.
A large man with a gun on his hip approached. Extending his hand, he introduced himself as Officer Martin. Tears filled Melissa's eyes as she shook his hand and told him her name. He invited her to come take a seat in the interview room.
With her lower lip curled slightly into a pout, she set the infant carrier down on the floor and sat in a folding chair. Looking around, she saw a camera mounted in the corner by the ceiling; this interview was going to be recorded. She'd need to be careful, knowing she'd be unable to deny anything she said later on.
This was the moment of truth.
The officer sat down on his side of the desk. "I want to make you aware that you are here voluntarily and you are free to leave any time you wish."
Melissa's voice was pathetically soft. "Yes, sir."
"And you do have the right to legal representation if you want it."
"Thank you, sir, but I don't need it."
"Okay, so what is it you wanted to tell me about today?"
Melissa paused dramatically, reaching for a tissue from the box on the desk. She considered her two possible options, realizing this was her last opportunity to decide. She realized the forgetfulness argument was thin at best. It would have been hard to convince the police or anyone else that she had gone in her jewelry box, took some of her most expensive pieces, put them in Dylan's kitchen cupboard with a credit card and then forgot about it. That approach had lead balloon written all over it. Instead, she knew she was going to have to make a heartfelt, tearful admission and hope she was met with mercy.
To increase her chances for leniency, she reached down and freed the baby from his infant carrier, picking him up and clutching him to her chest.
Looking down at the desk and allowing a tear to drip down her cheek, Melissa slowly whispered, "I've done something I've come to regret."
The officer rested his elbows on the desk and interlaced his fingers, wordlessly inviting her to continue.
She sighed, choosing her words carefully. "My husband and I had decided to help a troubled young man. We had the financial means, and I had the time, so we set up a house for someone under house arrest. We met this particular young man through my brother, George, who is a probation officer. George said the young man appeared to have a lot of potential—he’d just had a difficult upbringing—so my husband and I wanted to give him a chance at a better life.
"We moved Dylan in and provided him with a furnished place to stay and a stocked pantry. I volunteered to drive him to and from work and take him on any errands he needed run. I cooked him meals and desserts, bringing them over to him. I even stayed to chat with him, hoping my friendship could help him find a better path. But then..." Her lip quivered as she held the tissue against her eye. "Then his true colors came out."
She kissed J.J. on the head, hugging him tightly. Tears fell down her cheeks, and Officer Martin slid the tissue box closer to her. "I'm sorry," she
whispered pitifully. "This is just difficult to talk about."
"I understand. Take your time."
She made a mental note to remember exactly what she said here so she could repeat an identical story later if she needed to. "He started to extort money from me. He said he was going to tell my husband that I was having an affair with him unless I paid him off." She shook her head. "I had spent a lot of time there, alone with him, and it would have been his word against mine. I knew my husband would have believed me, but I was afraid of what else Dylan might have been capable of." She grabbed more tissues, changing her expression from sadness to fear. "I mean, it started with extorting money, but what would have been next? I feared physical harm."
Officer Martin folded his arms across his chest, leaning back in his seat.
Releasing a sigh, Melissa added, "I started to panic. My emotions became out of control. I didn't understand it at the time, but, as it turns out, I was pregnant." She raised her eyes to meet the officer's, knowing he'd never experienced pregnancy hormones before. "I was thinking illogically. It was almost...psychosis. Fear ended up getting the better of me, and I did something stupid."
She paused to put on a little crying show. Officer Martin waited patiently until she felt she'd done enough. She didn't want to go overboard with the theatrics; that might have done more harm than good. After her adequate display of tears, she softly admitted, "I framed him.
"I was afraid," she explained quickly. "I wasn't sure what he was going to do. I felt unsafe." Displaying her best remorseful face, she confessed, "I was only going to feel better if I knew he was detained."
"And how did you frame him?"
After dabbing at her tear-soaked cheeks, she said, "I brought over my jewelry box one night, letting him see my most expensive pieces. He touched the box, which I knew would leave fingerprints. When he went into the bathroom..." She closed her eyes and looked away, appearing too ashamed to face the officer. "I put some of the jewelry in his kitchen cabinet, along with one of my credit cards. I also put a strand of hair from his hairbrush in the jewelry box, which I brought back to my house, to add to the evidence against him."
The baby began to fuss, which Melissa found to be perfectly timed. Perhaps this baby was an ideal blend of her and Dylan, and he was demonstrating his manipulation skills at an incredibly young age. She began to pat his back and bounce him, trying to get him to settle down.
"I knew we had switched out a window," she went on. "Dylan's window was drafty, so my husband and I had taken it out and replaced it with one of ours. We were being kind, you know? We didn't want Dylan to have a drafty window, so we put it in our own house. This happened before the extortion began. In fact," she added with a loving smile, "that was the weekend I got pregnant. My husband had been overseas for work and he came home for a visit. He switched the window while he was home, among other things..."
The officer smirked but didn't say anything.
Melissa changed her expression back to regret. "I knew Dylan's fingerprints would be on that window. He had helped my husband replace it." Shaking her head, she tearfully added, "I lost control. I panicked. I called the police, telling them that someone had come in that window and taken my jewelry and credit cards. I knew Dylan's fingerprints would have been in all the incriminating places in my house, and I knew they were on file. Throw in the hair I planted, and I was positive he would go back to jail, which he did. He got a lengthy sentence for that theft." She covered her eyes with her hand. "I'm not proud of what I've done. I was just so scared. I was afraid of what Dylan was capable of, and with the pregnancy—I wasn't thinking clearly.
"But now," she went on, "I've had the baby, and I'm a lot less emotional than I was before. I'm able to formulate reasonable thoughts, and I feel awful about Dylan being in jail. He doesn't belong there." She raised her pathetic eyes, adding, "I'd like to recant my statements against him and see him freed. The reality is, he didn't do anything illegal."
"Extortion is illegal," the officer said.
"He wasn't successful at it. He never got a dime from me. And I'm not looking to press charges for that. Besides," she added, "he's already done nine months. I think that's plenty of time for making a few empty threats."
Officer Martin remained silent for a long time. The only sounds that could be heard were Melissa's pitiful sniffing and the baby's squeaky fussing. Ultimately, the officer ended up sounding remorseful when he announced, "Unfortunately, I am going to have to arrest you for filing a false police report."
"Am I going to jail?" Melissa asked, her eyes wide. "I'm nursing the baby..."
Officer Martin held up his hands. "I'm sure we can let you out on your own recognizance, or possibly some bail. Do you have a criminal record?"
Melissa shook her head rapidly. "No, not at all. I've never done anything wrong before this."
"It should be fine, then," he replied compassionately. "We'll fingerprint you and process your paperwork, and you'll get a court date where you need to report for your sentencing."
She nodded tearfully. "I understand."
"And in the meantime, I'll get started on trying to overturn Dylan's conviction."
Chapter 33
"Released on your own recognizance, huh?" George asked as they drove away from the station.
Melissa nodded. "I go back in a month for my court date."
He only grunted in response.
"They're going to look into getting Dylan's sentence repealed, if it makes you feel any better."
"There are still nine months of that kid's life that he'll never get back." He turned to her. "Do you know how awful jail is? Do you know what you did to him?"
Melissa remained quiet.
"Well, if there's any justice in the world, you might find out. You very well may find yourself sitting in a cell for this little stunt you pulled. And it would serve you right."
She strummed the steering wheel, chewing her cheek.
"So what was it?" George went on. "Why did you do it? Was it true that he stopped fucking you and you got mad about it?"
She remained fixed on the road in front of her, the painful memories of Dylan's rejection coming back to the surface. "He was an awful person."
"He was an awful person," George repeated. "He was an awful person. My God, the nerve you have to sit here and say that after what you've done."
"I wouldn't have done it if he didn't deserve it."
George only breathed out heavily through his nose, his clenched teeth giving away his anger.
The remained of the ride home was silent. Once she pulled into her driveway and she got the baby out of the back, George got out of her car and headed toward his own. As she was about to reach the front door, she heard George say, "Melissa?"
She turned to look at him but didn't say anything.
"Just so you know...you no longer have a brother."
His tires squealed as he tore down the street.
Melissa immediately went to the internet, looking up possible sentences for filing false police reports. Her punishment was going to be dependent on whether she was charged with a misdemeanor of a felony, and she wasn't sure which one she was looking at.
Next, she began looking up lawyers. Fortunately, money was no object for her, so she went with highest rated one she could find. She set up a consultation appointment for the following afternoon.
Then, she realized she had to take the next step. With a rock formed in the pit of her stomach, she picked up the phone and dialed Jim.
"Hello?" He had spent so much time in England he was starting to develop an accent.
"I've got bad news."
"What's the matter?"
"It's fucking George. He figured it out."
"What do you mean, he figured it out?"
"The baby," she replied. "He figured out it's Dylan's baby."
"How?"
"The brown eyes." She shook her head angrily. "Apparently, two blue-eyed people can't make a brown-eyed baby."
"Fuck,
" he whispered.
"I know."
"What did George say?"
She closed her eyes and paused, reluctant to disclose the words out loud. "He made me go to the police and tell them that I had framed Dylan."
"Are you serious?"
"Unfortunately, yes. I just got back from the station."
"And you confessed?"
"I had to."
"Did you implicate me?"
The question sent waves of hate throughout Melissa's body. "No, I did not implicate you." Although, at the moment, she wished she had.
"Okay, good. So, now what?"
"Now, I have a court date. I was able to come home, which is good, but who knows what the sentence is going to be. I've hired a lawyer. I meet with him tomorrow."
"That's good. Hopefully he can get you off with a slap on the wrist."
Running her fingers through her hair, she replied, "One can only hope."
"And what about your brother? Is he going to tell everyone that this is Shithead's baby?"
"He said he wasn't, and I actually believe him. I think he's doing that out of his love for the baby, because he certainly made it clear that he no longer has any love for me." She knew that notion was going to be excruciatingly painful later, but, for now, she had self-preservation to worry about.
"Well, let's hope he doesn't. Honey, I hate to say this, but I have to go."
"You've got to be fucking kidding me. I'm facing criminal charges, and you're telling me you can't talk?"
"I'm sorry, but work is crazy."
"Jesus." Melissa hung up the phone without another word.
She held onto J.J. and watched him sleep. He was the most precious person in the world to her, and the thought of being taken from him was too much to bear. To make matters worse, her fate was in someone else’s hands. A judge was going to determine if she could stay with her son or be put in jail. That was simply unacceptable to her. This was the most important decision that was ever going to impact her life, and a complete stranger was going to make it.
What She Needed Page 19
