for the past few days. She’d been quiet, introspective. Jack was trying to give her space while she got herself together.
It didn’t occur to him that she’d go to the police now that Stu was dead and couldn’t be charged for covering up Rebecca’s crime.
Heart pounding, Jack hurried down Main Street to the sheriff’s department.
Almost five years ago, Rebecca had murdered a guy she thought was a tourist, but in self-defense while he’d attempted to rape her. Stu came in after she’d hit the guy over the head with a dumbbell and convinced Rebecca to help him bury the body and the weapon. Stu told Ian, because he told his father everything, and Ian forced Rebecca out of the country to school in England. Then he’d used her crime to blackmail Jack into the family fold. Ian said he’d tell the police where the body was if Jack didn’t work for him … and that he’d make sure it was Jack who went down for covering up the murder, not Stu. After all, it would be way more plausible that Jack, who was close to his sister, would’ve been the one to protect her, not Stu.
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