“Roderick.”
She half shrugs half nods. “Roderick was Rosie’s grandson, and although he was originally set to receive a sizable inheritance, some shady dealings saw him left with hardly anything. Believing Roderick’s love of the cabin wasn’t from a monetary standpoint, Rosie doctored her will to state that in the event she and Cecil died at the same time, Roderick would become the owner of the cabin. He, not understanding the law, assumed that meant it would still become his once Cecil also passed. But—”
“Cecil had other plans,” I interrupt, smiling.
Regan smiles along with me. “Originally, the land and everything on it was left to C—” She stops, swallows, then starts again, “JR.” I smile, grateful for her willingness to come to bat for a man she doesn’t know. “But after meeting a pocket rocket doctor whom he immediately recognized from the photos he was shown the prior four years, he had a last-minute change of heart.”
“The clergy he requested,” I mutter under my breath as tears prick my eyes.
The morning Cecil was brought in, I was walking out from a double shift. I could have kept walking. There were plenty of doctors rostered who could have handled a knock to the head with their eyes closed, but something stopped me. I’ve told myself time and time again that it was the pain in Cecil’s kind eyes, but only now am I wondering if it was something else. I only caught the quickest glimpse of the man who carried Cecil into the ER before he was crash tackled by local law enforcement officers, but now that I’m thinking back, his long hair and blue eyes registered as familiar.
“When Alex raided the cabin, he found this under the floorboards.” Regan hands me a secondary newspaper article. It isn’t about Rosie’s accident. It is an article a federal agent ensured went viral to the world more than Ophelia’s death. It was about me, and my so-called heroism when I ‘died’ trying to free Ophelia from the wreckage.
My annoyance about Agent Macy Machini jumping the gun is heard in my tone when I disclose, “I thought running was the solution.” I shift on my feet to face Isaac. “I realized it wasn’t when our lives collided again. That’s why I took your sperm.”
To cut a long story short, Isaac was Ophelia Petretti’s boyfriend. With him heartbroken and confident he would never move on from her death, he booked in to have a vasectomy in a country town far from his stomping ground. I was his surgeon.
I tried to talk him out of it. I even hooked him up with a therapist known for persuading her patients to see things from another perspective, but with Isaac adamant sterilization was what he wanted, I did the procedure as ordered. I just glossed over the fact patients don’t usually give a sperm sample until after the procedure is done, stored his wrigglers at an IVF clinic with falsified papers, then confessed to my crime almost six years later.
I anticipated for Isaac to strip me of my medical license, or at the very least, remove me from my position at Ravenshoe Private. He did neither of those things. He handled it better than expected, and although I don’t think he’ll ever fully trust me again, he will forever support me because, without me, he wouldn’t have the family he adores more than life itself.
I stop reminiscing when a thought pops into my head. “Although this a compelling weave of deception and lies, something doesn’t add up. Even if JR is convicted, the land won’t be returned to Roderick and his family. JR wasn’t awarded it for committing a crime, so they have no basis to overturn Cecil’s last will and testament.”
“That’s true,” Regan agrees. “But… if the jury believes Roderick’s family’s claims that Cecil committed suicide after confessing to Roderick that he had killed Rosie’s husband, the flow-on effect could see JR stripped of his inheritance. No matter how long the chain, if one link comes undone, the entire chain is ruined.”
“JR wouldn’t have hurt Roderick for no reason.”
“I agree,” Regan backs up again. “But we don’t have time to wade through the evidence to back up those claims right now. JR’s bail hearing starts in less than an hour, and I’m afraid if we don’t give the judge something that proves the charges need to be downgraded, JR will be transferred to Wallens Ridge to await trial.”
Isaac and I grit our teeth at the same time. Wallens Ridge State Penitentiary has been embroiled in controversial activity for decades. Its staff is as crooked as the inmates, and the warden is as shady as Col Petretti once was.
My thoughts freeze my heart. “Has anyone told JR that his father is dead?”
Regan’s wide eyes stray to Isaac. When he briskly shakes his head, she shifts them back to me. “No.”
“What about Ophelia? Does he know she’s alive?”
I only found out a couple of years ago that Ophelia’s accident was staged by the same federal agents who organized my new life. My head was so muddled with confusion, I had no clue the ‘special guest’ in the room in the back of the private jet that flew me to my new life was Ophelia. I was scared, terrified my life was about to replicate a horror flick, and in so much pain from the gunk in my ears not responding to the change in altitude, I spent most of the trip with my head between my legs while chewing gum.
My deafness after the blast was attributed to the eustachian tubes in my ears malfunctioning. Usually, they’re responsible for regulating the pressure in your ears, but since mine had collapsed and my ears were full of goopy fluid, my hearing was completely blocked after my flight.
Symptoms generally last a couple of days at most, but when mine stretched to weeks, the head doctor at Saint Frances Hospital, Jacinta, suggested I visit a local ear, nose, and throat specialist.
A simple balloon procedure cleared everything up, and the very next month, I ran into Isaac for the second time in my life.
Needing a moment to process how in the world I’m going to tell JR his baby sister isn’t dead, I float my eyes back to the desk he’s being processed at. As suspected by the prickling of the hairs on my arms, he’s already watching me. His expression exposes he lipread the confession I’m struggling to work out how to tell him.
Although he should be upset, not an ounce of annoyance fills his eyes. He appears more relieved than anything, and the knowledge exposes what I need to do to make sure he isn’t hit with a second bout of shock.
ChapterTwenty-Nine
Jae
“Istill don’t approve of this,” Isaac grunts out while floating his gray eyes around the only available cabin in the state JR is facing prosecution. “The fact you can’t leave the state until his trial is over is already concerning, but you just testified that you believe he is an unhinged member of society.” He shakes his head like it will stop the swear word I see in his eyes from being released.
It doesn’t when I reply, “I played on the DA’s belief that he is as dangerous as he looks.” When he scoffs, I talk faster, “You heard what Regan said. Bail is rarely granted for murder suspects. The only exception usually given is when the judge believes the suspect’s incarceration will endanger the lives of others or himself.” I lower my voice so the parole officers raking the cabin for dangerous instruments don’t hear me. “The slash marks on JR’s wrists helped me convince him of the latter.”
“He isn’t suicidal, Jae.”
