Chapter 14
Linsey
Friday morning, I went down to the Las Salinas PD with Sabre at my side to make a formal report about Dylan’s harassment.
We took a file folder full of evidence that Zen helped us print out.
They automatically got Dylan’s parole officer from Billings on the phone, and he listened to what I had to say.
The file was extensive and contained the messages Dylan sent to Noah, the fake missing child poster with its counterfeit police shield and the tip line that leads straight back to him.
The most important piece of information was the fact that he was planning to be in Las Salinas and where the meeting is supposed to be.
Today, hopefully, Dylan would be out of my hair and back in police custody where he belongs.
I’d be lying if I said I’m not nervous stepping out of my car in front of the Rusty Anchor.
I’m not quaking in my shoes or anything, but my anxiety is causing me to be extra cautious.
Knowing that Sabre is already inside and has checked that Dylan came alone is reassuring.
Sabre is sitting at one of the back tables in case anything pops off and has already alerted the local PD that Dylan is here in violation of his parole.
So far, everything seems to be going according to plan.
When I walk through the entrance , Dylan turns from the football game playing on the large TV and waves me over from a corner booth.
He’s smiling and acting laid back. Looking at him this morning, no one would suspect what he’s capable of.
I approach cautiously. As I get closer, I see he looks older and his complexion is rougher, with a small scar above one eye that fades into his brow line.
And he’s wearing new jeans and a new button-up shirt.
I can tell by the way they’re creased that they’ve never been worn.
There’s some kind of gift wrapped in blue paper sitting on the table in front of him, probably for Noah.
Everything about him seems to be like some kind of carefully crafted persona to give the illusion of a humble, reformed family man.
He gets to his feet when he sees me, and his expression turns emotional. “Linsey, you look well. You look as beautiful as ever.”
Rather than responding, I slide into the booth across from him. I offer up a greeting. My voice is clipped. “Dylan.”
“Thank you for meeting me,” Dylan says after the server drops off menus and coffees. “I know how difficult this must be for you.”
“My goal is just to get through this without it turning into a screaming match.”
He touches the gift and pushes it towards me. “This is for Noah. It’s a model of a Sherman tank, the good kind with metal tracks. I know he’s interested in military history.”
“Really, where did you hear that?”
“I hear things.” He gives a smile which he probably thinks is loving, but in reality sends shivers down my spine. I just hope the police turn up soon so this can be over with.
“Let’s just get down to the conversation at hand, Dylan,” I say.
Holding up one hand in a placating motion, he says, “Let’s start with the poster because I know how it must have looked.”
“If you mean it looked like manipulating a child, then yes. That’s exactly what it looked like.”
“I only shared it on my social media page. I understand the word abducted might have come across too strong, but you have to understand that’s how it feels to me. You took my own flesh and blood away from me.”
“I’m a single parent. Any rights you had to be a father ended the moment you tried to kill me when I was pregnant with my son.”
He conveniently bypasses that bit of information and jumps straight to the subject that would have most easily manipulated the old Linsey into seeing things his way.
“Whatever you may think of them, your family never stopped loving you. Your mama still keeps your photograph up on the wall. And your daddy had heart surgery last spring. The first thing he said when he came out of anesthesia was your name. You’d know that if you called home. ”
“Stop acting like you were there to witness it. You were in lock-up last spring. Now, here you are just repeating any stupid thing my family tells you like it’s the gospel.”
Shock registers on his face for a split second and then he recovers. “I’m not trying to make you feel guilty,” he says.
“Good, because I don’t. We’re not here for you to manipulate me by using old family ties. We’re here to talk about my son.”
“Our son deserves both his parents.”
“My son deserves better than a violent felon for a father.”
“Look, you cost me ten years of my life,” he continues. “I’ve made my peace with that, and I’m prepared to forgive you. I want to know if you’re willing to meet me halfway.”
My cup stops halfway to my mouth. “You’re willing to forgive me?
What the hell for? You were beating me to death in full view of the neighbors.
If someone hadn’t called the police I’d be dead now.
I didn’t press charges because I didn’t need to.
It was obvious to everyone who saw, including the police, what you were doing.
It was an open and shut case. And now you want to forgive me?
You know that sounds batshit crazy when you say it out loud, right? ”
Dylan clears his throat and continues pressing his point. “I’m willing to accept supervised visitation at first,” he says, changing the subject.
“If you want supervised visitation or anything else, you’re going to have to do it the hard way, by petitioning the court to order a paternity test, taking the test, waiting for it to come back, and then filing for supervised visitation through the courts.
And just so you know, I plan to fight you every step of the way because I don’t think you’re fit to be a parent. ”
Dylan opens his mouth, but he doesn’t get to finish because two uniformed officers walk through the door and make a beeline for our table.
“Dylan Everett?” the older officer asks. “I’m Officer Harper with the Las Salinas Police Department. I need you to stand up, sir.”
Dylan looks at me and his expression is shocked. I’d bet my bottom dollar that he didn’t think I had it in me to turn him in. He immediately begins trying to talk his way out of the situation.
“Officers, there’s been a misunderstanding. This is a private discussion between me and my ex. We’re not disturbing the peace in any way. If I’m in violation of a restraining order, I’d like to point out that I’m here at her request.”
“Actually, you’re being detained for a parole violation, Mr. Everett. Interstate travel without authorization. Montana has already been notified and requested you be remanded into custody. Stand up and keep your hands where I can see them.”
“Fucking bitch! You set me up! You sat there and ran me in circles to give them time to get here.”
I don’t rise to his bait. “You set yourself up by violating the terms of your parole.”
The officers order him out of the booth, turn him around and cuff his hands behind his back. It happens so quietly that half the people in the diner continue watching the game.
Sabre slowly approaches and puts his hand against the small of my back when I stand.
At the door, Dylan stops and looks back at me. Officer Harper gives him a few seconds before urging him outside.
If looks could kill, I’d be dead. Before he’s taken away he grinds out, “The funny part about this situation is that you still think I’m the one you should be worried about.”
Since it sounds vaguely threatening, Officer Harper moves him through the door before he can say anything else.
I stand there frozen while Sabre’s arm slowly closes around my waist. At some point, that strong arm is the only thing holding me up. Meanwhile, the diner is quiet because everyone is watching the police haul Dylan off.
I move closer into the circle of Sabre’s arm and press my face against his chest. Now that it’s over, I find myself getting emotional. I’ve always been this way, dealing with the crisis at hand and fall apart later if I need to.
“You did it,” Sabre whispers. “You walked in here alone, stood your ground, and made sure that asshole got what he deserved. I’m proud of you, darlin’.”
Through the large windows, we watch Dylan being placed in the back of a police cruiser. Talon, Tusk, and Rider appear from different directions as the cruiser pulls away. I hadn’t realized he brought reinforcements.
I don’t know whether Dylan will likely catch more time for the parole violation or just have to finish out his remaining two years. Either way, it’s a win for me and my son. I couldn’t have done it without Sabre and his club brothers.