Chapter Thirty-One #2
Nodding, she said, “We were horrified. We had no idea that Dustin was capable of such a thing, but losing the baby had done something to him. He’d snapped.
He told us both that he’d ruin us if we ever said a word about where that baby came from.
He would tell the world how we’d lived, and Troy’s career would be ruined, our family would be homeless when Troy went to jail for kidnapping.
Dustin had been clever. He’d set up the whole thing to look like Troy had done it.
He said we were going to continue on like nothing had happened, or he’d ruin us both and our children would end up in foster homes. ”
“Let me get this straight,” Sam said, her mind whirling. “He basically blackmailed a fellow FBI agent and his wife into raising a kidnapped child—a child you both knew had been kidnapped—as your own. Is that right?”
“Yes,” she said, “and you have to believe me. Troy and I were horrified. He’d worked the Rollings case and had been heartbroken for them.”
“So why didn’t he return their child when he realized what Dustin had done?”
“Because he’d lose everything he’d worked so hard for if he did, and we’d both go to jail. We had three children to consider, and we chose to stay quiet even if it slowly killed us.”
“Did you know Troy knocked your son around every chance he got?”
“That’s not true! Who told you that?”
“Your son did.”
“Troy loved him! Keeping this secret nearly killed us. Troy developed ulcers that plagued him for the rest of his life. I had migraines, and when that picture came out and it looked like Josh, Troy said he was going to come clean and tell the truth. Dustin said we couldn’t let that happen.
That’s why he killed Troy. To keep the secret long enough for us to get out of town.
Except I couldn’t leave my mother and my children… ”
Sam slapped her hand on the table, making Courtney and John startle. “Screw you and your ulcers and your migraines! You took their child. Do you have any idea what you put those poor people through for thirty years while you were enjoying a life of prosperity and success?”
“Technically, my client didn’t take their child.”
Sam lacerated him with a look. “Screw you, too. No deal.” Speaking directly to Courtney, she said, “You’ll be charged with accessory to kidnapping after the fact, and I hope you serve one day for every day that child spent in your family when he should’ve been with theirs.”
“I was honest with you!” Courtney cried. “You’d never have gotten all this from Dustin. I gave you the truth!”
“Too bad it was thirty years too late for the Rollings family—and for Taylor.” She walked out of the room and went straight to her office, slamming the door behind her.
As she released the clip that held her hair up, she realized her hands were shaking.
And the stomach she’d thought cured was looking to unload its meager contents.
Placing her hand over her mouth, she breathed through her nose until the nausea subsided, leaving her with a sick feeling that went bone deep. The men Avery had so revered were monsters, and Courtney was every bit as bad for keeping their secrets for so long.
Three decades. That’s how long a mother in Tennessee had longed for the child who was being raised by the director of the FBI and his wife and his…
whatever Dustin had been to them. It was sickening.
When she’d regained her composure, she checked her phone and found a text from Watson letting her know they’d arrive at the hospital around two.
The Rollings family was looking forward to meeting their son—and her.
I’ll be there, Sam replied, and for shits and grins, she’d see if she could bring her husband, the vice president. She fired off a text to him asking if it could be arranged.
I’ll see what I can do, babe. Would love to be there.
A soft knock on the door had her spinning around. “What?”
The door opened and Avery Hill stood there, his face ashen with shock and disgust. “I don’t even know what to say.”
“There’s nothing to be said other than case closed.”
“What about Dustin?”
“What about him? We’ve got more than enough to charge him with two counts of kidnapping, murder for hire, assaulting a police officer. The list goes on and on.”
“So we don’t need to talk to him?”
“Sam’s right,” Hope said when she joined them, looking pale after what she’d heard.
“We’ve got enough to charge them both.” Of the three identical triplets who served the District as Assistant U.S.
Attorneys, Hope was the only one who was a mother, which had probably made Courtney’s sordid take that much more difficult to hear.
“If no one objects,” Avery said, “I’d like the supreme pleasure of telling Dustin Jacoby that he’s totally fucked.”
“I’m on board with that,” Sam said.
The others nodded in agreement.
“Someone will need to brief the media,” the chief said. “I think they’re giving birth to each other outside.”
“I’ll do it,” Sam said, salivating at the thought of shredding the vaunted reputations of Hamilton and Jacoby, “and then I’m going to the hospital to be there when Taylor sees his parents for the first time in thirty years.”