From: Curt Dekker
DEKKER! As soon as you get this, call me IMMEDIATELY. DO NOT GO TO PAIUTE. Mitchell Bellandini is NOT Petty’s dad. See attached. COME HOME NOW!
“Randy must have stopped by the office at Motel 9 to see if the front desk guy knew where we were going,” Dekker said, taking the paper from my hand.
“This is a trick,” I said. “Randy obviously wrote this to—-”
“Petty, listen to your instincts. You’re not wrong about Mitch. You think there’s something weird about him too, I know you do. A dad doesn’t kiss a daughter the way Mitch kissed you. He doesn’t call her by her mom’s name.”
“But maybe—-”
“Here,” Dekker said, shoving another piece of paper at me. It was a photocopy of a Denver Post article from eighteen years ago. BELLANDINI NOT GUILTY, the headline read.
Three days of deliberations in the murder trial of Mitchell Bellandini, accused of killing coworker Marianne Rhones, concluded today when the jury returned a verdict of not guilty.
Michael Rhones, Mrs. Rhones’s husband, reported her missing on January 12 of last year. Mr. Rhones told police he suspected Mitchell Bellandini of Arvada of kidnapping his wife. He produced letters implicating Bellandini. According to Mr. Rhones, before they were a -couple, his wife had briefly dated Bellandini, who subsequently stalked her for three and a half years until she disappeared.
The Rhoneses and Bellandini were coworkers at the accounting firm of Bendel and Bendel. Mr. Rhones alleged that Bellandini broke into their home more than once, although he was never charged. Marianne filed for a protection order against Bellandini.
“What didn’t come out at trial, but should have, is [Bellandini’s] history of stalking and an Ohio rape conviction in the 1980s,” Mr. Rhones said. “He served time at the Ohio State Penitentiary before moving to Colorado.”
No body has been recovered, and this key piece of evidence is the main factor in Bellandini’s acquittal.
Another article, dated three months after the last one, had a headline that read: MICHAEL RHONES, TODDLER DAUGHTER REPORTED MISSING; BELLANDINI QUESTIONED.
Michael Rhones and his three--year--old daughter, Anne Marie Rhones, were reported missing Saturday by Scott Rhones, Michael’s brother. . .
Pictures that I recognized from my grandmother’s photo album of Michael Rhones and me as a toddler accompanied the article.
“When we first got here,” Dekker said, “Mitch didn’t offer any information. We fed him information about you. We told him who you were, who we assumed he was.”
I thought back to the signature on the letters I’d taken from Mr. Dooley’s office. “I’m so stupid,” I said. “M is for Mitch.” I wanted to scream. This mistake, fueled by my desperation for a new family, could end up costing us everything.
Dekker rolled his eyes. “I’m just as stupid,” he said. “I didn’t put it together either. Which means that Michael Rhones didn’t kill your mom. Mitch did.”
There was something just beyond my consciousness demanding to be heard that I couldn’t quite latch onto.
I picked up the article that said BELLANDINI NOT GUILTY.
The subhead beneath it read: Jury Cites Lack of Body, Evidence.
“The body was never recovered,” I said. “Mom’s body was never . . .”
Dekker’s eyes got big. “That’s right. Mitch wanted to tell you what your mom’s body looked like when the authorities found it, that’s what he said.”
“But there was no body,” I said.
We stared at each other. Goose bumps raged up my arms and scalp. My heart beat like a hummingbird’s wings.
“He said I could be Marianne,” I said, nausea rising in my throat.
“What?”
“When he first saw me. I thought he meant I looked like her. But now I think—-”
Dekker’s eyes grew wider. “He was saying you could take her place. You could be his new . . .”
Horror at the real picture threatened to paralyze me. The very thing Dad had tried to prevent was on the verge of coming true.
“Mitch isn’t my dad,” I said. “Is he.” It wasn’t a question. I knew this to be the truth.
“We have to get out of here,” Dekker said. “Now.” He stood.
I gathered up the papers and started to put them in the backpack.
“Leave them,” Dekker said. “Leave the pack. Let’s go.”
He was right. It didn’t matter if Mitch knew we were on to him. I dropped everything and stood. A dog howled some distance away, and it was then that I realized Mitch’s dog had disappeared. The dog hadn’t come running when Randy showed up. The dog was gone. Dead probably.