And Jack had known his socio-fucking-path of a father meant it, that he wasn’t bluffing. Jack knew Ian wouldn’t blink at the idea of Rebecca going to prison for murder because she wasn’t his daughter. Jack’s mom, Rosalie, had a years-long affair with an old boyfriend. Ian found out when she got pregnant with Rebecca because he hadn’t been in his wife’s bed for a long time. He’d had his mistresses to see to those needs.
Unfortunately, things had gotten extremely unpleasant for Rosalie and Rebecca in the Devlin household. Ian threatened to make Rebecca’s life miserable if Rosalie ever saw the old boyfriend again, which meant cutting Rebecca’s real father out of her life. The guy didn’t even know he had a daughter. And when Rebecca got older and learned the truth, she was forbidden from asking about him.
Over the years, they’d all heard things happening to their mom that no kid should have to hear, including their father forcing another pregnancy on her, just to prove he was a man.
Jack had tried to protect his mom and sister as much as he could from Ian and his brothers, who all seemed to be Ian replicas. But it was difficult to protect Rebecca from Ian because he hated her. Their father put up a front since appearances were so important to him, but he’d sell Rebecca down the river in a heartbeat if it came to it.
No need now, though, Jack thought, as he hurried up the steps to the front entrance of the sheriff’s building.
Rebecca had done it herself.
Why?
After everything they’d both sacrificed for this lie … why now?
Striding into the building, Jack zeroed in on the reception desk where Rebecca was waiting with the new detective in town—Dahlia McGuire’s man, Michael Sullivan. As soon as his sister saw him, she burst into tears and ran for him. Jack caught her slight figure as she burrowed into him, as if she couldn’t get close enough. He squeezed his eyes closed as he felt how frail she was in his arms.
As she sobbed, Jack tightened his hold on her, wishing all that pain would just leak out of her and into him. When he opened his eyes, Detective Sullivan was standing in front of him, his expression carefully neutral.
“Jack Devlin?” he asked.
“Yeah, I’m Rebecca’s brother.”
“I’m Detective Michael Sullivan with the Criminal Investigation Department.”
“I know who you are, Detective.”
Sullivan nodded, his gaze dropping to Rebecca and then moving swiftly back to meet Jack’s. “Your sister is free to go.”
Confusion suffused Jack. “You aren’t charging her?”
“A team is right at this moment looking for the body and the murder weapon. If we find those, we will charge Rebecca with aiding and abetting.”
“Aiding and abetting? I don’t—”
“Jack.” His sister lifted her head, her eyes red and wet with tears. “I … let’s go somewhere so I can explain.”
Hearing the plea in her words, Jack gave her a tight nod.
Jack couldn’t wait to get back to his place in South Hartwell. It was a nice house that Ian had insisted he move into after he “suggested” he sell his home in North Hartwell. Jack didn’t sell but instead rented it out. It was as if he had some futile hope he’d get to return to it one day. Maybe even return to the man he used to be.
Pulling the car onto the side of the road, Jack switched off the engine and turned to his sister. “What is going on? What were you thinking?” It took everything within him not to rage at her.
Her blue-gray eyes, just like his, just like their mom’s, brimmed with tears again. “Jack, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry that this has taken so much from you … and I’m sorry you didn’t know the truth. But Ian and Stu threatened me …”
A strange foreboding came over him. “What do you mean, the truth?”
Rebecca swallowed. Hard. “I didn’t kill Caruthers.”
Jack gaped at her, aghast. Colin Caruthers was the guy Rebecca had thought was just a tourist. He wasn’t. He was wanted in four counties for several rapes. Ian discovered that after the fact, obviously.
Her mouth trembled. “Jack … he didn’t try to rape me. He was raping me.”
Rage and grief exploded through Jack as he watched the tears slip silently down his sister’s cheeks.
No.
Fuck.