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“Would you forgive them?” I asked. “Your parents? Would you forgive them if you had the chance to talk to them again?”
He grabbed his phone and released my hand long enough so he could type.
I think I already have.
“How is that possible?” I asked. “After everything they did to you…how does any of it become okay?”
Not okay. But hating them won’t undo any of what happened. Neither will forgiving them.
“So why do it?”
Because I think carrying that anger around is harder than just accepting that people make mistakes. No one’s guaranteed perfect parents, just like no one’s guaranteed the perfect life, no matter how much they plan for it.
“I’m angry, Dallas. I’m so very angry,” I admitted.
Be angry, Nolan. Just don’t let it change who you are. If you do, they win.
I nodded and mulled over his words as I sat back in the seat and stared out the windshield. Dallas got the truck moving, but didn’t release my hand until we arrived back at the house. As soon as we were out of the vehicle, Dallas snatched up my hand again, then pulled me to his side. I loved that even though we were in public, he wasn’t hiding what we were to one another. Our relationship may have been forced out into the open by circumstances, but the people of Pelican Bay were just going to have to deal with it.
As we reached the door leading to the kitchen, I steeled myself for the next encounter with my mother, since her car was sitting in the driveway. She was once again sitting at the kitchen table, but she wasn’t alone.
The man sitting opposite her turned to face me when my mother said, “Nolan, you have a visitor.”
I recognized him as one of the police officers who’d questioned me in San Francisco repeatedly after the Stradivarius had gone missing. Fear went through me and I automatically sought out Dallas’s hand.
“Officer Cohen,” I said with a nod.
I felt Dallas pull me to his side as soon as I said the name. I’d told him about how I’d been questioned by the cops and the threats they’d thrown my way, even after they’d admitted they couldn’t press charges against me.
Had he found something he could use to arrest me?
“Mr. Grainger,” he said. “I’m sorry to just stop by like this, but I wanted to tell you in person rather than over the phone.”
“Tell me what?” I asked, finding it incredibly difficult to swallow.
“We found the violin.”
“You did? Where?”
“In Mr. Lancaster’s possession.”
“What? Trey had it?” I asked, completely confused.
“We found it at his house in Pacific Heights after receiving an anonymous tip to look there. We also received a digital file of a recording between Mr. Lancaster and another person outlining his plan to frame you for stealing the violin. He was going to sell it on the black market after collecting the insurance policy on it. He also admits on the tape to stealing the money he was supposed to have invested for you.”
“What…what does this mean?” I asked. I could feel Dallas’s heat at my back as his fingers massaged up and down my spine, probably to try and soothe me.
It was working.
“It means he’ll face charges. He’s already hired an attorney and it’s doubtful he’ll face much prison time, but he won’t get away scot-free. Whoever sent us the tape also leaked it online. The truth has already started to hit the papers. You should be completely vindicated by dinner time, Mr. Grainger. And I would recommend you hire an attorney. Even if Mr. Lancaster’s attorneys manage to plead him down to a lesser criminal charge, he’s got no case in civil court. The district attorney said the punitive damages alone could be worth ten times what that violin is valued at.”
I glanced at my mother who sent me a small smile, but she didn’t comment otherwise.
Which I was glad for.
It was just all too much as it was.
The man grabbed his jacket off the back of the chair he’d been sitting in. “I wanted to fly out here myself, Mr. Grainger, because I owe you an apology. All the people involved with your case do. Sometimes we get it wrong. This time, we got it really wrong.”
I managed a nod, but nothing else. But then Dallas’s words about anger and forgiveness rang in my ear.
Don’t let it change who you are.
“I understand, Officer Cohen. Thank you for coming all the way out here to tell me.”
The man nodded, but didn’t try to shake my hand.
Something else I was glad for.
I was just too damn raw.
“I’ll show myself out,” the officer said and then he nodded at my mother, then Dallas, before he left the house.
The silence in the room grew awkward, but before I could say anything, my mother reached behind her and grabbed a plastic container full of cookies. She placed it on the kitchen table. “You boys should run on along now. I’m sure you’ve got work you need to get back to.”
