Unbelievable (53 page)

“Can’t you see how much you’re hurting her? Stop it. Let her go. You have us,” Cole pleaded. His words slurred together, no doubt from the hard punch he’d taken.
Because of me.
I should have left town . . . I should’ve left.

My father drew a gun from I don’t know where and pointed it at me, saying, “This has gone on long enough.”

“Please let her go,” Cole begged.

“I’m not leaving without you, so forget it,” I said to him. He continued to plead with me through his eyes. I turned away, not having the strength to deal with the anguish I saw in them.

“Delilah, I said close the door. Now do it, immediately,” Daddy ordered. I felt numb. My entire life had been lies. Even Birdie had betrayed me. Now I stood in a room with my own father pointing a gun at me, commanding that I shut the door that would trigger a massive explosion, killing us all.

“I can’t, Daddy. I love these people. I can’t be responsible for taking their lives, even if it’s indirectly.”

“You’re a disappointment to me, princess.”

“And you’re a coward, just like your sons.” Great!
Now
Booker wakes up. And of course he wasn’t about to keep his mouth shut. He struggled to sit up, wiping his face on his sleeve. His left eye was swollen shut and his lip had a nasty cut on it, his misshapen nose undoubtedly broken. He looked worse awake than he did unconscious.

“It’s going to give me great pleasure to kill you,” Daddy spewed at Booker. “The only reason Clive didn’t was because I wanted that privilege myself.” My father raised his gun and pointed it at Booker’s head.

“Wait, please,” I begged. “There has to be a compromise. How about Booker lets you go free, no one will follow you—”

“Dresers don’t compromise, and they don’t cower down in a fight,” he growled, turning his attention back to Booker. “Now where was I?”

I had no choice. “Put the gun away, or I’ll shoot you myself.” I held Booker’s little gun in my hand, pointing it at my father.

He looked at me and smiled. “Nice try, princess, but you just don’t have it in you.” He turned back, raising the gun to Booker’s head again.

I pulled the trigger, shooting only his gun. It flew out of Daddy’s hand.

“Nice shot,” Daddy said, rubbing the sting he no doubt felt in his hand. He turned to Cole, staggering toward him.

He was going to dislodge Cole from the igniter.

I aimed the gun again and shot him in the left hip. He collapsed to the floor, knocking his head against the particleboard, rendering him unconscious.

“Call Seth,” Booker yelled. “My phone’s by the oxygen tank. Tell him to stay inside. Tell him don’t open any doors or get in his car.” He tried to get up but stumbled back down.

I punched in Maggie’s number, praying they hadn’t left. “Maggie, you’re still home.” I dropped in the chair.

“Lilah, is this you?”

“Yes. Don’t leave your house. Call the bomb squad, hurry.”

“Why?”

“My father. . .”

“I understand. Do you need help?”

“Yes.” I gave her a quick rundown on what had happened, along with Booker’s instructions. She handed the phone to Seth and I repeated it again.

“I’ll send the MET team right over,” Seth said.

I shoved the phone into my pocket, picked up Daddy’s gun
, and handed it to Booker, who was now propped up against the wall. I walked over to Cole and knelt down in front of him, wanting to hold him, but knowing I couldn’t.

“Are you okay?” he asked me. I nodded, knowing if I opened my mouth, I’d cry.

“So am I, don’t worry.” Again, I could only nod.

I couldn’t even look at my father as he lay on the floor. I was awash in humiliation.

“I thought you didn’t know how to use a gun,” Booker said, carefully wiping his face on his sleeve again.

“No, I said I hated guns. I’m a Dreser, Booker. Daddy made sure we could all handle a gun.”

“No, Lilah. You’re a Colter,” Booker said, pulling out some handcuffs from his back pocket and cuffing my father. Sirens screamed our way within seconds.

“It’s over. It’s finally over,” I whispered.

Chapter 43

One Month Later

“Maggie, you have to stop moving.” I erased the chin for the third time from the canvas I was sketching. Seth wanted a portrait of her to hang in his office, and she hoped to surprise him with it for his graduation.

It felt good to paint again. Complete turmoil ruled our lives for the past month, my father’s arrest being number one. He didn’t do well behind bars and his health plummeted quickly. I visited him often. First in prison, and in the end, at the hospital. He died after two weeks, and thanks to Booker, I was at his side. We didn’t talk about all the sorrow he’d caused or the ugliness of his business during my visits. We mostly reminisced about happier times. I held my anger, seeing no good coming out of confronting him at this point. On some level I think he felt the same. As he struggled with his last breaths, he took my hand in his and held it firmly.

“Your mother would be proud of the woman you’ve become.” He closed his eyes and said nothing more. Cole was my rock. He stood by me through it all.

The one bright spot was Cole’s brain scan. It turned up negative. No cancer, though he’d have to have the scan once a year for the next five years to be safe.

When my father was admitted to the hospital, Cole made sure he had the best care. Not because my father deserved it, but because of his love for me.

Booker questioned my father, trying to find out where Clive was, but his efforts were in vain. My father claimed to know nothing. I told Booker what little I knew, but he wasn’t able to locate him.

The bomb squad successfully defused the bombs on Seth and Maggie’s cars. Just as Booker had suspected, Daddy had them both rigged to explode.

It took them three hours to defuse the bomb in Booker’s building, an hour of which was spent getting the igniter under Cole deactivated. It was the longest three hours of my life.

Cole’s injuries were superficial, though he did have to stay in the hospital overnight as a precaution.

Booker didn’t fare as well, and he spent six days in the hospital. He had a broken nose, three fractured ribs and a fractured cheek bone, along with a severely bruised kidney and spleen. He also had a minor skull fracture. Seth insisted it was a good thing Book had such a hard head or they really might have done some damage. But I could see the fear in Seth’s eyes. He was afraid of losing Booker.

I tried my best to avoid everyone at first, feeling shame and guilt for all that had happened because of my family
, until Cole sat me down one day.

“Lilah, inside all of us is the potential for good and the potential for evil. Which one survives depends on which one we feed. You’ve chosen to feed the good. You can’t control what others choose to feed.”

“You’re pretty smart, Ducky.” I leaned in and kissed his cheek.

“I didn’t come up with that analogy. It’s part of an old Cherokee tale involving two wolves. I just paraphrased it a little,” he admitted. “In fact, I’ll tell you the entire story after we discuss page forty-nine of our favorite book,” he winked, pulling me in for one of his mind-bending kisses.

Maggie wouldn’t allow me to hide out either. She came by the house every day under the guise of planning out the details of our new enterprise,
Innovative Interiors
. After deciding we’d rather not put up with bridezillas, we chose to start an interior design firm, not wanting to compete against Haley and Donna’s corporate design.

“Mags, you moved again,” I said, trying to be patient. “Why do you keep looking at your phone?”

“Sorry.” She scrunched her nose in an apology. “Seth’s defending his dissertation today, and we’re celebrating with a picnic in the park after. He’s going to text me when he’s done.” When she moved yet again, I set the canvas aside for another time.

Maggie followed me into the kitchen. “I’m going to make up some tea. Would you like some?” I asked, removing the chamomile tea from the tin I kept next to the stove and set
ting a kettle to boil on the stove. “Maybe we can sit outside and enjoy the fall weather before the snow hits.”

“Sounds great. Thanks. Where did Cole and Booker go?”

“Not sure. Booker called yesterday afternoon and said he had to go out of town and asked Cole if he wanted to go,” I said, adding honey to my cup.

“Odd. It can’t be anything with the MET since Booker quit three weeks ago. I wonder what it is?” Maggie added sugar to her cup.

“I didn’t ask. Cole needed to get out. The poor guy’s going stir crazy, sitting around taking care of me. He said it was my fault for introducing him to adventure.” I laughed. “I told him he should go back to work, I’d be fine. He finally agreed to going part time starting next week.” I wanted a normal routine back in our lives.

“Sorry,” she said before I filled her cup with water. “Seth just texted. I have to go.” She gave me a quick hug and left.

I curled on the couch and sipped my tea, forcing all thoughts of the past few months out of my head.

Until the front door opened and Cole walked in with Birdie.

“What are
you
doing here?” The anger in my voice spoke loud and clear. Birdie was not welcome.

“I brought her.” Cole signaled for her to come in. She shook her head and stayed on the porch.

“Child, you believe the words of your father so easily. You hurt me,” Birdie said, shaking her head.

“I hurt you? You were the only one I trusted. You are . . .
were
like a second mother to me. Leave.” I walked into the kitchen, shoving my empty teacup into the dishwasher and slamming it shut. After a few deep breaths, I came back into the living room to find Birdie still standing in the doorway.

“I think we should listen to what she has to say, Lilah,” Cole said carefully.

“Are you kidding me?” I all but shouted.

“Birdie deserves to tell us her side of things.”

I silently signaled for her to go ahead with a flippant wave of my hand, all the while wanting nothing more than to slam the door shut in her face.

“Birdie, please come in.” Cole closed the door behind her. She didn’t enter the room, but instead stood in the entryway.

“Go ahead, Birdie.” Cole stepped over to me and wrapped his arm around my shoulders, giving me a squeeze.

“Do you remember your father waking us in the dead of night, saying we had to leave the house in Lupe, Arizona, immediately?”

“Yes. Just after Bill was killed. I remember. Go on,” I said angrily.

“What you didn’t know was earlier that night, someone tipped your father off that federal agents were coming to arrest him and he needed to get out fast.” She slumped wearily onto the bench by the door and continued. “Lilah, he left behind a half a million dollars’ worth of heroin.”

“Half a mill . . .” I wheezed. My jaw dropped.

“The
Feds seized his US bank account. Your father had no way of paying off his supplier. He couldn’t access his foreign accounts, not wanting to risk drawing attention to himself. If the Feds discovered those accounts, he’d have lost everything.”

“Birdie, what does all this have to do with my child?” I snapped. I didn’t want to hear about my father’s dealings. It made no difference now that he was gone. After his arrest, the government seized three foreign accounts of his worth over five million dollars. Even the fact that we were broke was a lie.

“This is important to know. He owed money, lots of money. He was desperate. Very few of his business acquaintances would extend him a loan. They considered him a risk now that the Feds were on to him. He eventually raised all but a hundred thousand dollars.” Birdie took a tissue from her purse and wiped her eyes.

“The man he bought the heroin from called him and said he had four days to come up with the rest of the money. When one of his friends jokingly suggested your father sell your baby, your father tossed him out the door in a fury.

“He tried for two more days, but still no one would help. Then I overheard him talking to a man, a very evil man named Barry Robbins who specialized in black market babies. He gave your father the money he needed, and then explained his evil plan to your father. The child would go missing the day after she was born. This Robbins scum was delighted to learn that you were having a home delivery, because it would be easy to destroy the birth certificate. ‘No one can check the baby’s footprints if there are ever any questions,’ he said, telling your father he was to make sure we didn’t file it.”