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A knock at the door made everyone’s spine straighten and their chins rise, their reactions understandable, all things considered.
Pinkie rose, setting her china tea cup on the table and opening the door to Alpha Morales, version 2.0.
Birdie tried to envision the presumably repugnant undercover Alpha Morales to the self-possessed man striding into the room. Couldn’t imagine him as anyone other than the imposing yet thorough FBI agent who had spent hours with her asking questions and gathering details. Patient, professional, and detail-oriented. The same man walking into the room with a confident air about him.
Standing before everyone, with his hands clasped behind his back, legs braced, he said, “I wanted to thank you all again for your help in bringing Errol Shepherd to justice. This has been an ongoing case that has taken years and thousands of man hours to gather the evidence needed for his arrest.” The man glanced down. “While taking your statements, I was unable to share some pertinent details that were on a more personal level. In my line of business, and when amongst colleagues, it’s critical to remain as discreet as possible. Strictly sharing information on a need-to-know basis. Thankfully, I have something for Birdie, from Marshall, that should help explain his motives and actions and answer so many of her questions. The message was sent by courier to Tati’s address and circumvented by me after she disappeared and while casing her apartment. I’m afraid, given my responsibilities regarding the case, I took the liberty of reading it.”
He handed Birdie an envelope, and her heart almost stopped upon seeing Marshall’s handwriting on the front that simply said, “Birdie.”
Morales said, “I think it wise for you to read it first and share accordingly with others as you see fit.”
The consummate professional cleared his throat and turned to Tati. “As for you, Ms. Northrop, I owe you a debt of gratitude and an apology.”
Birdie’s monumental distraction sitting in her hand, for the moment, was eclipsed by this pronouncement, thinking the apology must have been for more than just working with Tati while undercover.
Tati waved him off. “It’s okay, Morales. Bygones and all that. Besides, it’s kind of a relief to know you’re not the repulsive, receding hairline of a jackhole I thought you were.”
Birdie noticed the man’s neck turn a tinge of red as he asked the small but feisty brunette, “May we speak privately?”
Birdie watched a nervous Tati glance at an expressionless Grant and then Pinkie, who nodded, saying, “There’s an office just past the dining area.”
* * *
Birdie,unable to wait, skirted into one of the suite’s bedrooms, with Mia and Lucas in tow.
More than anything, she wanted all the secrets exposed to the people she loved at one time. No more he said, she said, then she did this and I said that.
Together, they would learn what was going on in Marshall’s wonderful head. And if any of it was less than honorable, which was hard for her to even begin to imagine, then they’d deal with it together.
He was, after all, human.
Birdie sat in the linen-covered chair by the window as Mia and Lucas faced her, sitting on the edge of the bed.
She smiled to herself as Mia held onto Lucas’s hand, waiting to hear the thoughts from the first man in her life she had ever loved while holding tightly to the hand of the second.
Birdie opened the envelope, her fingers trembling as her eyes misted upon seeing the wonderful man’s handwriting.
Clearing her throat, she ran her hands across the folds to flatten them.
She read,
My Dearest Birdie,
I believethe end is drawing near. Given my situation, there are some things you need to know. Things I can no longer justify hiding from you.
Please know that it was my intention to personally address the problems and then share the details, laughing at my son’s failed attempts to destroy me and the people I hold the most dear in this world. I’m afraid this time I’ve failed. I’ve failed you and Mia and Pearl.
In my quest to protect you, I’ve reached out to a friend in the FBI. A Tatiana Northrop. Made her aware of my suppositions concerning Errol and Ariana in regard to their criminal activities that I believe transcend those concerning my family.
Recently, I came across evidence. But unable to locate Ms. Northrop, I sent this note to her residence via courier. I pray she receives it. In time.
By now, you already know that evidence has been downloaded onto a thumb drive and hidden inside Mia’s heart pendant.
There are other things I need to tell you that I was unable as I am drugged and incapacitated most of the time, unable to speak and to barely write. Please excuse these scribbles.
First, Ariana is not the biological mother of Errol and Flynn. Rather, she adopted them after their mother, a woman I knew and shared time with when we were quite young, died while giving birth.
My Trust is crystal clear, as you know. It states that everything is to move to you and Mia, with arrangements made for my lovely Pearl.
