Chapter Thirty-Five
Marietta Police Department
Getting back down to town had taken some time and doing; the paramedics had taken Daryl away. Hayes had stayed with the emergency personnel to handle the crime scene, such as it was. He’d given them all instructions to head down to Marietta and meet him at the police station.
They were in decent enough shape to walk back to the Harrington cabin, even Glenda. From there, Cal had insisted on driving Jill’s truck down to the station—Jill and Glenda in tow, while Landon and Aly had driven Nate and Sam back to Nate’s truck so Sam and Nate could drive in.
Of course, Landon and Aly hadn’t been content to stay put at the ranch. Even though they hadn’t had much to do with anything, they sat in the same police station lobby, doing what they could to help.
Cal watched Aly murmur comforting words to Jill or Glenda. Landon got coffees, snacks. Just … taking care of anyone in their wake. Like two anchors amongst the rest of their floating, bobbing driftwood.
It stirred up something in Cal he was too tired to deal with right now. Thoughts on family and roots and what could be built when secrets weren’t the ever-growing vines closing in on you and pulling you under.
Hayes wanted to talk to each of them individually, though Cal thought this was all a bit overkill. Hayes had been there. Couldn’t he handle it without making each of them relive it again?
Cal blew out a breath, went ahead and closed his eyes, even thought he might doze off. Hell, Hayes could wake him if he wanted to.
No one said anything. What was there to say? More secrets uncovered. More lies turned into the truth. Where did it all end? How did it all matter when they’d lived this long with the lies?
Okay, so sleep wasn’t an option in this uncomfortable chair with this interminable wait. He straightened, looked down at his hands.
He had no answers for the questions rolling around in his head. Maybe having answers wasn’t the point.
Maybe surviving was the point. There were victims in all this who hadn’t survived, but today …
they all had. It felt like a bleak consolation, but when he thought about Landon and Aly—getting married, building a life on the wreckage of Benjamin Bennet, helping the people they loved—he wondered if it didn’t have to be.
“Hey, all.”
They all looked up as Jake strode in. He’d had the same sleepless night as Cal, driving back from Kalispell then talking to Sam and Nate, but he looked as put together and with it as he always did when he was at work.
He’d found out his father’s accident had been no accident at all, and yet he was handling this case. Cal didn’t know the ethics of that, but he supposed it wasn’t any of his business as a civilian.
And if Hayes needed a good lawyer later on, maybe Cal would offer his services. He might still find the guy abrasive as hell, but … well, he wasn’t the worst.
Maybe.
“I’m going to call you back one at a time and take your statements. Once I’ve talked to you, you’re free to go. If I have follow-up questions, I’ll be in touch.” He walked over to Glenda, offered a hand. “Glenda, you’re first.”
Jill started to stand.
“I’m sorry, Jill,” Hayes said, and he almost sounded gentle. Cal wasn’t sure he’d ever heard that from him. “It’s important I get all your statements one-on-one, just to make sure everything matches up. You’ll have to stay here.”
Cal knew Jill was about to protest, but Glenda shook her head. She let Hayes help her to her feet, and since it looked like Jill might follow even though Glenda had nonverbally told her no, Cal went ahead and took Jill’s hand.
Jill looked down at him, eyebrows drawn together. “She should have someone with her.”
He gave her a little tug, so she sat back down. “She’ll be okay. Once she gives her statement, it gets to be over.”
He wasn’t sure he believed that. Not for Glenda. Not for him. They’d always live with what had happened.
What had been lost.
But over sounded good, and Jill didn’t argue. She didn’t even pull her hand out of his. She just sat next to him—vibrating with energy and adrenaline, no doubt, but anchored by his hand at least somewhat.
Since Aly was a few seats down talking in low tones with Sam—who looked as pale and out of it as he’d seen her—Cal figured he had to step into the role of friend. “She can handle it, and Hayes will take some care. I think they’re almost going through something similar.”
Jill looked at him—her eyes shiny, but she nodded. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” She let out a long sigh. “I feel like I must owe you some kind of … something. He would have taken me with her. You took my place.”
Discomfort spread through him, and he wanted to draw his hand away, but he heard his therapist’s voice warning him about withdrawing. So he stayed put even though he wanted to bolt. “Everly was threatening me. Might as well take me along. It wasn’t about you.”
Jill didn’t say anything to that.
After a silence that stretched out, she spoke again. “You protected her.”
He wasn’t sure he saw it like that. He’d gone along with Glenda because it felt like … they were linked somehow. Like they’d been linked in this thing a long time ago. “I think, even if I don’t remember it all, she spent a lot of time protecting me. So it felt like the right thing to do.”
Cal figured the sad curve of her mouth was an attempt at a smile. “That isn’t why you jumped in to protect, Cal.” She squeezed his hand.
He looked at their hands together and didn’t quite understand the unease that rolled through him—because it wasn’t something he felt the need to bolt from. It was just something that didn’t make sense to him.
“That’s just who you are,” she said firmly.
He wasn’t sure that was true, but he was finding that he … wanted it to be. Maybe an old dog couldn’t learn new tricks, but his life wasn’t over. There was a hell of a lot left to do with it. Something he’d really started to believe was a possibility after he’d read the beginning of her book.
He opened his mouth to tell her that, but Hayes returned with Glenda. He led her over to Cal and Jill. “Jill, you’re up. Then Landon and Aly can take you both back and get some rest.”
So Jill and Glenda exchanged seats. He’d tell her about her book … later.
And much like he’d put his hand over Jill’s, Cal put his hand over Glenda’s when she sat, wanting to offer some comfort or connection. Wanting to follow that feeling of … honoring what other people had given him.
“Thank you,” he said. “For helping me and my mom then.” It seemed such a little thing, this thank you, but he didn’t know what else there was.
Glenda had tried to save him—more than just that one time. She’d always been the one thing his mother had been able to reach out for. Maybe Mom and Glenda had never solved anything, but they’d tried. And in her trying that one time, Glenda had fallen into her own nightmare instead.
But what would have happened if Mom and Glenda hadn’t tried to get him to Gerald that night? Would Gerald just have been dead—no trauma, no worries? Would the truth have been lost forever, to Daryl Everly being some kind of psychotic murderer, and getting away with it?
Would that have been better? Sometimes ignorance was bliss, and Everly had gotten to live a lot of life since then.
“You didn’t remember,” Glenda said to him. Her voice didn’t sound so raspy.
She seemed more at ease or something, reminding him of what little he did remember of a woman trying to help him and his mother.
“I kind of remember Mom taking me to you. My arm hurt. Mom was hurt.”
Glenda nodded.
“I remember bits and pieces of you leading me up the trail. Once we got up there tonight, I remembered the cave. But it’s different than the amnesia stuff.
At least, it feels different. My therapist said some of the holes in my memory are just …
disassociating from bad things in the moment.
That’s how I learned to survive. So … whatever Dad did that day to hurt us, I don’t remember it.
I don’t remember any of what happened after the cave. ”
Maybe if he really thought about it, he’d be able to scrounge up the memory, but to what end? His father had beaten his mother. And apparently sometimes him. He didn’t need the actual memories to know it was true.
His mother was dead, and his father was in jail because it was just true. He had the truth. He didn’t need all the memories.
“I guess it doesn’t matter. All the people who hurt us are paying.” Cal looked over at her.
Revenge or vengeance or justice or whatever the hell this was didn’t really fix anything, but life was just … a lot of unfixable things.
“I didn’t see anything worse that night than whatever Dad did. You put me in that cave. You tried to protect me. That was hard to come by in my life, so I’ll always be grateful, Glenda. Always.”
“Stayed put when I asked. You were a good boy.”
Cal snorted. He felt … dumb. Betrayed by his own mind as a child. Taken in by Mr. Everly as a teen. And yet…
He didn’t feel nearly as destroyed as he had after everything with his mother’s death had come to light. Maybe this time because he had been protected.
Maybe that was why all this time he’d had that weird affinity for Glenda even when she creeped him the fuck out.
He’d known there were memories lingering, and they weren’t good, but he’d known—for the most part—she’d been a good force in all that bad.
Or at least as good a force as she’d been able to be.
Trying to help people wasn’t always successful or perfect. Sometimes it was just showing up and doing your best … even if it wasn’t nearly good enough.
No one had been quite good enough, but here he was. Whole and alive. A little fucked up, but healing. The past year had somehow become about healing instead of running.
And even though he’d taken the steps leading up to this moment, he knew for sure, now, none of it was temporary.
Cal Bennet was done running and home for good. No matter what.
*