"Yeah, I did, and now look at you. Was I so wrong? I can answer that for you. No, I wasn't. I understand why you put up with what you do. I get it. And after spending some time with her, I realized that she's a very strong, independent woman that needs to be heard and trusted. Dylan, you have been smothering her since the day you decided you were in love with her. She isn't going anywhere, all she's asking for is a little bit of your trust. You ask her to trust you all the time, and now she's asking you to trust her. The question is, can you do it? Can you trust her to take care of the things she needs to do on her own?"
"I would like to say 'yes', but I honestly don't know."
"Well, she's kind of forced your hand this time, hasn't she? She holds all the cards and you hold none. She's not stupid or naive, Dylan. She's made it this far in life, and might I remind you, she's much older than you."
"But what if something happens to her? What if I'm not there to protect her?"
"What if? What is it that you think you're going to save her from? Herself? Bad guys? What? Because, Dylan, you can't save her from anything. All you can do is love her, respect her and show her how much you value her. That's all she wants from you."
"I guess you're right. I hadn't looked at it that way, but that doesn't mean I'm not fucking worried about her."
"Dude, I'm worried about her, too, and I'm not married to her. I'm not saying you should stop giving a shit, but I think you need to loosen the reigns a bit. And as for your mom, what did Brooke say?"
"What?"
"What did Brooke say about how you should handle telling your mother?"
"That's an odd question," I said, giving him a surprised look. "Did she let you read the letter she wrote me or something?"
"No, I just know after spending the last couple of days with her, that she'd have an opinion about it. So...what did she say?"
"She said I need to be honest and tell her the truth."
"See, she's a smart woman. You should listen to her. Trust her."
"I think you're pussy-whipped! You've been spending too much time with Stephanie, apparently."
"Fuck, don't I wish. I spend more time with your wife than I do my own girlfriend."
We both laughed. "Alright, I'll lighten up, but don't expect me to handle over total control."
"I told you to trust her, not turn into a complete pussy."
"Good, just checking to make sure we're still on the same page."
I heard the elevator doors open and hoped like hell it was Brooke. It was. She had on a long, blonde wig and looked beat. I could tell she had been crying and as I walked closer to her, she wreaked of gasoline. I went to say something, but she held up her hand, "Don't. You won't like the answer." Then she went to our room, stripped off her clothes and stood in the shower and cried.
I thanked God for bringing her home safely to me, then stripped and joined her in the shower. I held her tight, never wanting to let go and cried with her. I knew what she had done, and understood the guilt and fear she was feeling as we clung to each other. It was a secret bond that we would share together...forever.
When the water finally ran cold, I dried her, then myself and went to bed. We didn't bother putting clothes on as we were both exhausted from the events of the day. The emotional turmoil was a bitch, but we had a new understanding of one another. Neither of us said a word, we didn't have to. We silently felt each other's pain, knowing that the crimes we had committed were to save the other. It didn't feel good, it wasn't something to be proud of, but it was our truth. I held her close against my naked body as we both cried until we fell asleep.
CHAPTER 18
Dylan
I knew the day would come, when I would have to finally face the awful events of what happened in Prague. My mother had been calling and bugging me, since the day my brother left to go back home, to come over and help her finish going through my father's belongings. It wasn't something I was looking forward to, but it had to be done. There was no way that I could leave her alone to sort through all of it on her own.
Brooke and I never spoke much about the day she had gone missing for several hours. I never had to ask about the gun or the truck, because everything had been taken care of, carefully cleaned and placed where it had originally been taken from. I was beginning to wonder if my wife was really a fixer herself, or if she was just that smart. I figured it was the latter, since I knew how she felt about the whole fixing business.
The only thing she would tell me about that day was that any evidence that could have been left behind, went up in flames with Thomas. And after the investigation was over, the fire department deemed it was just another old, rundown farmhouse that had caught on fire, due to its owner's drinking problem while pouring gasoline around the perimeter to kill ants. Yeah, my wife was a pretty, fucking brilliant woman. The way she covered it all up, was an indicator that she'd been researching and plotting for years as to how she would one day kill Thomas.
After that day, I noticed a real change in Brooke. She was quiet and kept to herself, but when she laughed or smiled, it melted my heart. It was as if I really seeing my wife for the first time. She didn't cry much, anymore, and we argued less and less about the things that we use to in the past. She even began speaking to her mother and Stephanie, once again. And, she was doing so well in therapy that Dr. Marks said he only needed to see her on an as "needed basis".
Three months later, things were finally looking up for us. I just had this one last thing to do with my mom before I could close this chapter on my life, once and for all.
It was a warm day in Colorado as I headed to my mom's to finally finish cleaning out all of my dad's shit. I wondered how much more shit we would find that would reveal the truth about the man who lived a double life. The truth was being slowly revealed to my mom, but she was having a hard time accepting it. Who could blame her? Hell, I was still struggling with accepting all of it and I was knee-deep in the shit.
I stopped off at the bagel shop around the corner from my mom's and picked up some blueberry bagels and coffee. I figured it would be a nice peace offering, since my mom loved bagels and I had been putting her request off for months. I just wasn't ready to face to my demons, until now. And truth be told, it was actually Brooke that had given me the strength to do it. Her words constantly rang in my head: "The sooner you face this, the sooner we can move on."
I was doing it for her...for us.
I pulled into the circular drive and handed the keys to Jim, my family's parking attendant. The door was unlocked, so I went right in and made myself at home in the kitchen. I had been to the house since my dad died, but today had an eerie feeling about it. Even on my drive over, there was something familiar in the air, and I was reminded of memories of my sister, Danielle. I pulled out two paper plates from underneath the cabinet where my mom always kept her plastic dishes. For someone as neat and tidy as my mother, it was a mess.
I set the plates on the breakfast bar, grabbed a bagel and dug in. The damn things were delicious, and I didn't bother with the cream cheese as I thought that shit ruined them. My mom joined me in the kitchen, laughed and kissed me on the forehead. "Good morning, Dylan. You didn't have to bring all of this, you know?"
"Yeah, but I figured since I made you wait, this was the least I could do."
"You've always been silly about stuff like that. Even when you were little."
"I'm not little anymore, Mom."
"Oh, Dylan, don't be ridiculous. You'll always be my, little boy, no matter how old you are."
"Mom, this is making me uncomfortable."
She laughed, "Just wait until you have kids of your own, then you'll understand what I'm talking about, or at least Brooke will. Speaking of, where is she? Will she be joining us?"
"Nah, she said she already had plans this morning. Besides, I think she felt this was kind of bonding thing between me and you."
"I love that girl, Dylan. I know she's been through a lot, but she's a good person and she's perfect f
or you. Don't tell your brother, but I like Brooke a hell of a lot more than I like Shayla. All she does is bitch and complain about how much her life sucks, because your brother won't build her a house in the Hamptons," she said, taking a bite of her bagel.
I almost choked on my bagel, while my mother confessed her disliking of my sister-in-law.
"Mom, you've always known that Luke likes high-maintenance women. Think about it, back in high school, he dated all the pretty, whiny girls. You know, the ones that were afraid they would break a nail if they got off their ass and did something."
We laughed harder. "How could I forget? And then, he brought Shayla home. God help me, helping that girl plan a wedding was pure hell. Oh...and her mother, that's another story in itself," she said, shaking her head.
"Mom, I'm surprised. I thought you liked Shayla and her mom."
"Oh...I do, I just don't like the whole high-maintenance thing, as you call it. And, I especially don't like the way she treats my son. Sometimes, she just gets under my skin. Never mind that, shall we go upstairs and get this done, so you can get back home to that beautiful wife of yours?"
"I'm ready, whenever you are."
I followed my mother up the stairs into her large master bedroom. It was once a place where I use to find comfort when I would have a bad dream as a child. Now...just being in here, felt like one, big nightmare. The closet door was open and I was pleasantly surprised to see that most of my father's belongings had been cleared out. I breathed a slight, sigh of relief that there wasn't much left to sort through.
"There's only a couple of things left to go through, Dylan. Keepsakes and such that your father use to keep in the box up in the closet. Can you do me a favor and get it for me?"
"Sure, Mom."
I reached up and grabbed the metal lock box and placed it on the bed. "I don't know the code, Mom. Do you?" I asked.
"If I remember correctly, Dylan, it's your birthday."
Fucking wonderful, I thought. Of course, the prick would use my birthday as the code for his bullshit.
I squatted down and rolled the little, metal numbers on the front of the box: 0820. I heard the click, and knew that the code had been cracked. I called to my mom, who was busying herself with more shit in the closet.
"Mom, it's open."
"I'll be right there."
I opened the box and about shit myself when I saw all the items in there. "Um..., Mom."
"Yes?"
"How long has it been since you've looked in this box?"
"A long time, why?"
"I really think you need to come see this. It looks like Dad was keeping all of your jewelry from over the years in here. Except, I don't remember seeing you in any of it."
"Oh, Dylan. There are some things that you just don't wear around your chil...," she stopped and gasped, "That's not mine," she said, running her hands along the jewels in the box. "None of this belongs to me. Where did all of this come from? And... Dylan, isn't that Brooke's wedding ring?" she asked, pulling my grandmother's ring from the pile.
I took a closer look at the ring. It was Brooke's. Then, it hit me. We were looking at, my father's trophy box of all the items that he had taken from the women he'd had kidnapped and sold into sex slavery. I wanted to puke as I watched my mother continue to sort through the items in my father's little, treasure box. But nothing could have prepared me for what she pulled out next, and we both stopped and looked at each other in utter disgust. It was a bracelet, one that had been specially designed for Danielle's sixteenth birthday.
"Dylan, what the hell is this?" she asked in a confused voice.
"Mom," was the only thing I could say.
"I mean, I understand that he was funding illegal operations in other countries and using the company to do it, but what is all of this? Why are Brooke's and Danielle's things in here, too? Who was the man I was married to for all those years?"
"Mom, I think you need to sit down."
"Dylan, just cut the bullshit! What the fuck do you know about this?"
"A little, but I'm still piecing things together, just like you."
"I want you to tell me everything you know about this, because after were done, I want nothing more to do with it."
"I'm not sure you want to know, Mom. I know how much you loved him and honestly, if you knew only a small portion of the truth, you'd hate him. And, me."
"What are you talking about, Dylan? What is your involvement in this?" she asked, her voice filled with anger.
"It isn't what you think."
"Right now, Dylan, I don't even know what to think or believe. So, you better just tell me."
"Okay."
I took a seat on the side of the bed next to my mom, as I began explaining the horrible things I knew and continued to find out about my father. It broke my heart to watch my mom cry as she learned the truth about the man she had promised her life to, loved and had created a family with. There was nothing I could say to console her, just retell the ugly, truthful words about a man that had fooled us all. I was reluctant to tell her how Brooke and Danielle's stuff got in that box, but I knew that hiding it, would only keep the deceit alive.
I put my hand around her shoulder and pulled her close, as I began to tell what had really happened in Prague and why I was there. She continued to sob, and then I dropped the bombshell about Danielle and how my father was involved in her disappearance. I'd never seen my mother that angry before, and I was actually afraid of her.
I stopped talking for a moment, and then proceeded to talk about my involvement with the Governor and the whole crime-fixing thing, and how my dad had been involved with that arrangement, too. It was awful. I wanted to leave, but I had to tell her one last secret, and I knew it was going to shatter her.
"Do you remember the day I called and gave you the news about Danielle?"
"Yes, I'll never forget that day for as long as I live. It was the worst day of my life."
"Well...I was there."
"What do you mean you were there, Dylan"
"I was at the scene."
"I don't understand. I know you were there to identify the body, that's not a secret."
"No, Mom," I said, taking a deep breath as I remembered that awful day. "I was there. I had been called to fix the scene of what had actually happened. But wait...before you say anything, I didn't know what I was walking into. When I saw that it was Danielle, I freaked the fuck out. I knew our family wouldn't survive a media circus, especially with you and Dad being out of the country, so I did what I thought was best. I made it look like it was a murder. At the time, I thought I knew the truth, but when Dad and I had met at Kristof's compound, I found out that she in fact had been murdered. According to Dad, he had arranged for her to be killed, making it look like a suicide. When I asked him why, he said it was because she was a whore for getting pregnant and was worried that she'd tarnish our family's fortune, since she wasn't married. I knew in my heart that if you'd known she'd committed suicide that it would break your heart. Especially, since she was pregnant. So I went back and re-created the crime, making it look like she was murdered. I put on rubber gloves, careful not to leave any fingerprints on anything that I touched. I moved the furniture around, making it look as if a struggle had taken place, then laid her body on the floor in the living room and took a knife and stabbed her already limp body, so it looked like she had been killed there. Then, I went into the bathroom and cleaned up any trace of blood that had been left behind in the tub or drains," I explained as I cried. "I loved her, Mom, and I did it, because I didn't want anyone to think less of her if she had killed herself."
"Dylan, my God," she said, quietly in shock. "This is all too much. I don't even know what to say. Why would you do such a thing? How could you stab your own sister like that?"
"Mom, I didn't want to. I felt like I had no choice. Please, forgive me. I'm begging you."
"Dylan, you're going to have to give me time to process all of this. Right now, I don't know what
or who to believe. You've told me all of these horrible, awful things about your father, a man that I spent more than half of my life with, and now you're telling me that he killed your sister and you went back and killed her, again!" she cried hysterically.
"I know, Mom. I'm sorry...so, so sorry. I never wanted any of this to come out. I knew I should have just kept it to myself, but Brooke.."
She lifted her head up quick with rage in her eyes. "Brooke? She knows about this?"
"Yes, she knows everything. She's the one that encouraged me to tell you."
"Well, at least one of you has a fucking brain that works."
"I'm sorry, Mom. If I could go back and change it, I would, but I can't. I hope one day you'll be able to forgive me, but I think it's probably best if I go, now."
"Yes, I think it is," she agreed.
I left, feeling like that was the last time I'd ever see my mother again.
CHAPTER 19
Brooke
I decided to stay home and run errands, while Dylan went to his mom's to sort through his late, father's belongings. I had been telling him for months that he needed to stop running from the truth and come clean with his mom about everything. I knew it wasn't going to be easy for him or his mother, but it was the only way they were ever going to really heal. I had been watching Dylan carry nothing but guilt and pain, since he'd told me about the tragedy in his life when his sister died.
He had been gone for several hours and I knew that the minute he walked through that door, I'd know whether he told his mother or not. I knew he was worried that she'd never forgive him for what he had done, but the bottom line was, he was her son and she'd do anything for him, regardless of how angry she was.
I sat in the living room, waiting for the love of my life to come home, so I could comfort him. I thought about our anniversary and Dylan's birthday, trying to decide which gift I should give him first, as both would bind us together and heal our families, forever.
Dylan still had a long way to go before he would allow himself to heal. And I was grateful to have Tristan around, for he stood by his friend and tried to help him along when I couldn't. A guy thing, I supposed. But nevertheless, Tristan always came through for him. They would spend long nights in Dylan's office, talking and sharing pieces of their lives and experiences with each other. Every now and then, I would stand at the door and eavesdrop, just to get a glimpse into the male psyche.
Redemption (Book 3) The Fixer Series Page 12
