Legacy

by HELEN HARDT

  This was a man who’d forced his young son to watch a beloved calf be slaughtered.

  This was a man who’d held a psychiatrist at gunpoint.

  This was a man who’d probably committed myriad more unspeakable acts that I couldn’t even begin to fathom.

  Acts I could probably find in these files.

  Fear gripped the back of my neck.

  These files held secrets. My father’s secrets.

  These files could help me…

  They could also hinder me. The fear gripping me wasn’t of what my father had done, but what the knowledge of what he’d done would ultimately do to me.

  Power.

  My father had power—power that was now mine to wield.

  Power could do a lot of good in the world, if a person handled it well.

  Most people didn’t. Power often led to corruption.

  Had that happened to my father?

  Temptation hung over me—temptation to take all my father’s private files out back and burn them in a huge bonfire. Hell, I could roast marshmallows over it and make s’mores. I’d never had a s’more before. My father never took me camping. No one had.

  The thought was comforting, but that was all it was—a thought.

  I couldn’t do it. I needed this information. I needed to know what I was dealing with.

  With no more hesitation, I chose a file at random.

  Jonathan Wade.

  Daphne’s father.

  What did George Steel have on him?

  I opened the manila folder. First was his birth certificate. Then his marriage certificates to both Lisa, Larry’s mother, and Lucy. His employment records. One arrest record—a DUI when Daphne was a toddler. He’d lost his driver’s license for six months. Funny, he still drank. Though he did seem to hold his liquor well. Hell, after what his daughter and now his wife had been through, he probably didn’t drink nearly enough.

  Then his financial records… Basic stuff. Checking account, savings account, money market account. All totaled about thirty-five thousand dollars. Not a lot, but more than many people had. Daphne had gotten a scholarship to Stilton. Good thing, as her parents couldn’t have afforded it.

  Jonathan’s health insurance had covered most of Daphne’s hospitalization during her junior year of high school. Still, Jonathan and Lucy had paid twenty percent of the bill, which amounted to about a hundred thousand dollars. Where had they gotten that kind of money? The billing records for the hospital were all marked paid. Lucy had quit working that year as well.

  Yeah, that was a big question mark.

  Of course, did it have anything to do with Murphy’s death? Patty’s disappearance? Definitely not. Still…my curiosity won out, and I decided to investigate Jonathan further. After all, I was married to his daughter.

  My father was nothing if not thorough. Underneath what I’d found were Jonathan’s bank records for the last twenty years. Good. Easy enough to see where an extra hundred grand had come from.

  But…nothing.

  Just his paychecks and Lucy’s, until she stopped working, were accounted for. Next I checked his credit card accounts. No charges at all to the facility. How had that hundred grand gotten paid?

  Either Jonathan had paid cash, or someone else had paid the bill.

  I ruled out cash. Why would he pay cash when he could so easily write a check? More likely, he would have made smaller payments over time. But he didn’t do any of that.

  Deduction—someone else had paid the bill.

  But who?

  A relative, perhaps? Did he or Lucy have any relatives with that kind of money?

  My mouth dropped open.

  He did.

  His son. Larry Wade.

  Larry was a millionaire due to his investments with the Future Lawmakers. Tom, Theo, and Wendy hadn’t told anyone, including their parents, about the fruits of their labor. But Larry? He and I had never been close, and we didn’t talk a lot.

  Could Larry have paid for Daphne’s treatment? If so, I owed him one.

  Mental Note: Get in touch with Larry.

  Of course, the last time I’d tried that, I’d run into Theo at Larry’s place.

  I’d gotten off track quickly. My goal was to figure out who had threatened my son. He was protected for now, housebound with the best security available. After that, my goal was finding who had killed Murphy and who had taken Patty. The latter was far more important—Murph was already dead, so I couldn’t save him. I hoped I could figure everything out in time to save Patty, but I had the sinking feeling all the events were related.

  Someone was fucking with me—fucking with me through those I loved—and I wouldn’t stop until I found out who and put a bullet between his brows.

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Daphne

  After breakfast, once baby Joe had a full belly, I left him in the care of Mazie and my mother and walked to the greenhouse.

  I did my best thinking among the plants, and right now, I needed to think. Why had those “friends” from the hospital come back to me? I had no idea, but I wanted to know why. Did they have something to tell me? To teach me? Or was I chasing unicorns?

  Mazie’s tulips were always in bloom—both inside and outside, now that spring was here. For some reason, I preferred to enjoy them here, inside the greenhouse. I shook my head. That didn’t make a lot of sense. Flowers were meant to be outside, swaying under the sun and absorbing its rays.

  So why did I enjoy them more in this enclosed space than I did outside in Mazie’s beautiful garden?

  And that was when it hit me—why I’d remembered those patients at the hospital. We were like the flowers in the greenhouse—enclosed, not in the perfect place, but still existing. We were still people.

  I’d never bothered to learn their names.

  In fact, I hadn’t even remembered their existence until now.

  They were telling me something, though, I was sure. What were they telling me about Patty? Maybe even about Sage? Had I been a good friend? Maybe I didn’t try hard enough to keep in touch with Sage after she moved.

  No. Not true. I’d written five times, and she never replied once.

  As for Patty…well, I’d been enamored with Brad since the first night of school. Then, a month later, I was pregnant. Weeks after that, I was married and had left school. But I’d been a good friend to her those couple of months. Hadn’t I?

  Maybe I hadn’t.

  Maybe I’d been too consumed with myself and my own problems.

  Maybe that had been my problem at the hospital too.

  Patty hadn’t been found. Brad had been up all night in his office, going over his father’s files. Why he thought that might help Patty, I had no idea, but I didn’t ask questions. I wanted my friend back.

  And deep inside me—that place I never allowed myself to go—I was frightened. Frightened that something terrible had happened to her, just as it had to Sean.

  Just as it had to…me.

  Anxiety and depression. Those were the two reasons I’d ended up in the hospital for so long. Bullies had beaten me, sent me spiraling downward. Then Sage moved away.

  Funny I didn’t remember the bullies, but there was so much else I didn’t remember, so I didn’t think much about any of it.

  Until now.

  I remembered those people at the hospital.

  Something horrible had sent them there. Perhaps anxiety and depression, yes, but something had caused the anxiety and depression.

  Just like something had caused it for me.

  The bullies.

  The bullies I didn’t remember.

  Could a person spiral down into severe anxiety and depression just by being bullied once? For years at a time, sure, but once?

  I had no memory loss before junior year. I’d been picked on a few times, just like any other kid, and I hadn’t become anxious or depressed.

  What had truly happened? If only I could remember…

  My brows shot up. I didn’t have to r
emember, because someone else did, and she was here on this ranch.

  My mother.

  I left the greenhouse.

  Mom and I were going to talk.

  I fed the baby and spent some time with him after lunch, and then I cornered my mother. I’d tread softly. She’d just been through a rough ordeal herself recently, and I didn’t want to make anything worse.

  But I had to know for sure what had sent me into such horrid anxiety and depression that I’d ended up hospitalized for most of my junior year.

  Brad was still busy in his office. I didn’t want Mazie to interrupt us, so I took Mom into the master suite I shared with Brad. I laid Jonah in his cradle and then turned to her.

  “Mom, I need to talk to you.”

  “What about, honey?”

  “First, how are you? I mean, how are you?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “No more suicidal thoughts?”

  “No, sweetie. I’m good now. I’m so sorry I put you and your father through that.”

  “Was it because of me?” I winced. I wasn’t sure I wanted the answer, but I had to know.

  “No. Of course not.”

  “Mom…”

  She sighed. “I always wondered what I’d say if either you or your father asked me that straight out.”

  “The truth, Mom.”

  She sighed again. “No. My answer stands. It wasn’t because of you. Rather, not solely because of you.”

  I swallowed, feeling icy. “What does that mean, exactly?”

  “I’ve talked at length with my therapist, and we feel I was trying so hard to be strong for you, and once I found out you had Brad and you were going to build a life, it was like a load had been lifted from my shoulders.”

  “But why would that make you—”

  She gestured me to stop. “It sounds senseless, I know. But I’d held back on letting the depression take me because of you, and once you were no longer my responsibility…” She shook her head. “Even now, the words sound ridiculous, but if you were in my head, you’d understand.”

  “I want to understand, Mom, and I think I can. I’ve been through the same thing.”

  “I know, honey.”

  “I’m starting to remember some things.”

  She went rigid and her cheeks lost their color.

  “Mom?”

  She didn’t respond.

  “Mom? What’s wrong?”

  She closed her eyes, seeming to brace herself. Then she opened her eyes and met my gaze. “What are you remembering, Daphne?”

  “Some of the people from the hospital.”

  Her shoulders relaxed. “Oh. Good. Thank God.”

  I wrinkled my forehead. “Thank God?”

  “Just…thank God you’re finally starting to remember, is all. It must be a load off your mind.”

  “Not really. I have a lot more questions, actually.”

  She cleared her throat. “Oh?”

  “Yeah. Dr. Payne told me memories would come when I was ready to face them or when I needed them. Why would I be remembering the other patients now?”

  She cleared her throat again. “That’s probably a question for Dr. Payne.”

  “He’s not here.”

  “Are you seeing a therapist in Snow Creek?”

  “No. There’s been too much else going on with the marriage and pregnancy and then George’s death. I haven’t had time to think about therapy. And now, with Joe so little… He needs me.”

  “I’m here. I can watch Joe for you while you go into town to see a therapist.”

  “You won’t be here forever, Mom. Dad needs you back home.”

  “When I leave, Mazie will be here. She loves that baby as much as I do.”

  “True. Is there even a therapist in Snow Creek?”

  “One way to find out.” She picked up the phone book that sat next to the phone on the end table in the family room. She leafed through it. “Here we go. Maryann Masters, family therapist.”

  “I don’t need a family therapist. I need a psychologist.”

  “Okay. Here’s one. Devin Pelletier. He sees patients at Maryann Masters’s office once a week in Snow Creek. Looks like he’s based in Grand Junction, though he has an office in Denver too.”

  “Devin Pelletier? What are his qualifications?”

  “He’s a psychiatrist, which means he has an MD. Also he’s licensed as a clinical psychologist.”

  “That sounds a lot like Dr. Payne.”

  “He’s in tomorrow. Should we call and make you an appointment?”

  “What will he charge me?”

  “I have no idea. Probably a hundred bucks an hour. But Daphne, money is not a concern for you anymore.”

  Oh, yeah. I forgot that a lot of the time, which didn’t make sense, since I lived in this mansion.

  “I’ll call his office.” My mother began dialing the phone.

  “Mom…wait.”

  She looked up. “What?”

  “I need to talk to you first.”

  She replaced the receiver. “What about?”

  “The…bullies. The bullies who sent me into such horrible depression that I had to be hospitalized for a year, Mom. The bullies who happened to have all moved away by the time I went back to school. None of it makes sense, and I don’t remember any of it.”

  “I know that, honey. It’s normal. You had a concussion, and you lost your memory of that time. We’ve explained all this to you a hundred times.”

  “There’s something else,” I said.

  Mom whitened again and swallowed audibly. “There’s nothing else, Daphne.”

  I sighed. “Fine. I’ll need to call Dr. Payne and get my records transferred. I want this new doctor to have all my relevant information so he can best help me.”

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Brad

  I’d called Larry every hour since I’d reviewed Jonathan’s file. He wasn’t answering. Why didn’t he have one of those newfangled answering machines? All I needed to know was whether he’d funded his half sister’s psychiatric treatment.

  Because if he hadn’t, Jonathan had gotten the money somewhere.

  I’d read through Daphne’s file. All her medical records were there, including the account of what had happened to her that horrible night. I’d retched while reading it but had managed not to puke all over my desk. Dry heaves only, thank God. Her friend Sage’s records were in Daphne’s file as well. I found myself thanking the universe that Daphne hadn’t been harmed as badly.

  Still, Daphne had been harmed.

  Violated by three different men. She had been beaten so badly that the eyelid on her right eye had puffed up and turned inside out.

  And yes, there were photos.

  Of all of it.

  Thank God for her concussion.

  The rest of the file was thick—records from her year-long hospitalization, no doubt. I couldn’t look anymore. I just couldn’t. She didn’t remember any of it anyway. I didn’t want those memories plaguing me any more than they already were.

  I gathered all the medical records, including Sage’s, tucked them into my briefcase, and left my office.

  Daphne and her mother were in the family room, talking.

  “Hey, baby,” I said from the top of the small staircase. “I’m going out for a while.”

  “Okay. Where?”

  “The north quadrant.”

  “Dressed like that?”

  I looked down at my suit and tie. “Uh…yeah. Meeting with one of the veterinarians. He’s looking at some stock.”

  “You should change into jeans and your boots,” Daphne said.

  “No time,” I said. “I’ll be back soon.”

  I left the house and got into my truck. My father’s trusty lighter rested in my pocket. I turned the key in the ignition and drove for a few miles until I found a desolate spot on the property.

  I got out, taking the file, and gathered some dead brush. I built a small fire, and then, one by one, I tossed in D
aphne’s and Sage’s medical records.

  The horrors of that night went up in smoke.

  It was the only way I could protect the woman I loved.

  Back in my office, my father’s personal line—now my personal line—rang.

  “Hello, this is Brad Steel,” I said into the phone.

  A throat cleared. “Mr. Steel, this is Dr. Devin Pelletier.”

  Dr. Pelletier. I’d read his file, but I’d only met him once…when my father pulled a gun on him.

  “Dr. Pelletier,” I said, “what can I do for you?”

  Silence.

  “Doctor, I’d like to thank you for helping my father and me deal with the…uh…Wendy Madigan situation…and also, I want to apolo—”

  Another throat clear. “Mr. Steel, that’s not why I’m calling.”

  “Oh…then what?”

  “My secretary scheduled an appointment for me at my Snow Creek office tomorrow. For your wife.”

  My jaw dropped. “Daphne?”

  “Yes. Daphne Steel. She’d like to start therapy with me. I felt I should let you know.”

  This time I was silent.

  “I won’t be keeping the appointment, of course. I’ll call her and cancel.”

  “And tell her what?”

  “That I’m not accepting new patients at this time. My secretary made a mistake.”

  My heart pounded. I’d just destroyed her medical files, but I didn’t have the only copy. Her therapist back in Denver had them, as well as the hospital where she’d spent her junior year of high school.

  I had to destroy them all.

  “Doctor,” I said, “I don’t want you to cancel.”

  “I’m afraid I must. Given my…er…relationship with your late father, I don’t feel I’m the best professional to treat your wife.”

  “Trust me,” I said. “You are.”

  “I’m afraid I can’t—”

  “I’ll make it worth your while,” I said.

  “Mr. Steel—”

  “I know your reputation, Doctor. My father has a file on you. You’re the best, which is why he worked with you in the first place. Granted, your integrity leaves a little to be desired, but believe me when I tell you that you did the right thing helping to get Wendy Madigan put away.”