The Truest Thing - Hart's Boardwalk
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.
No.
Sick to his stomach, he shook his head as the guilt overwhelmed every other feeling. He should have been there. He should have protected her. “I’m sorry,” he choked out.
“Stu came into the pool house. He said he’d been having a smoke by the pool and he heard me cry out for help. The next thing I knew, Caruthers had been pulled off me and Stu hit him repeatedly over the head with one of the dumbbells.”
“Jesus fuck.” Jack shook his head, trying to make sense of this new truth.
“He didn’t mean to kill him.” Her expression was so sad. “Jack, he was as shaken up as me. He’d just … he was trying to protect me.” Fresh tears fell from her eyes. “He didn’t know what to do. He was so scared. So he called Ian. And he took care of everything. He blamed it on me. Said I was a stupid whore for bringing Caruthers back to the house.”
“He said what?”
“I … I was stupid, Jack. Looking for love in all the wrong places. But I never meant … I just thought we’d hang out.”
“You were only seventeen. Of course that’s what you thought! Do not blame yourself. Do you hear me?”
She nodded. “Stu was angry at Ian for saying that. He assured me he didn’t blame me.”
Disbelief moved through Jack.
Rebecca continued, “But Ian used it against us all, didn’t he? Even Stu. He held it over him. Made him do things … like break into Bailey’s inn.”
“How do you know that?”
“He told me. You know he called me every month to see how I was doing.”