“He was going to throw me over that bluff last night. He said he’d join me, and we’d be broken and bloody together. It was like it was happening all over again for him, what happened with Lynn. He said he wished he’d committed suicide with her, so that they could have been together. That’s how warped and twisted he was. He kept acting like he hated her more than anything, and in the next second, he talked about her like she was perfection itself. He planned to commit suicide after he killed me, I think. He knew you were suspicious of him, and that he might be under fire if the kidnapping investigation started full force again because I’d come back. He already was jealous and hateful of you because of your relationship with Alan,” she said, looking at Dylan.
“He despised the idea of you and me being together happily, controlling Durand Enterprises, especially after all he’d been through to cancel Lynn and Alan’s happiness. That’s why he told me the other night at the bonfire that he wasn’t going to let it happen again. He wouldn’t watch me ride off with you into the sunset.” She gave a bitter laugh and it mixed with a restrained sob. “Instead, he wanted to see me end up in the same place as Lynn, and you in the same place as Alan. He said something about dying satisfied of your misery when you saw me on those rocks. The fact that he was considering committing suicide last night must mean he’d given up on disguising his hatred and obsession . . . his sickness anymore.”
“Jesus.” Alice glanced up. Dylan’s rigid features broke briefly. He pressed his lips to her temple. She sensed his fierce misery. She reached with her bandaged hand and touched his shoulder, absorbing the shudder of emotion that went through his powerful body.
“Do you want me to talk to the FBI and police now?” she asked him weakly after a moment.
He straightened and shook his head.
“No?” she asked.
“Rest now,” he said, his gaze running over her face. She hated to think of what he saw when he looked at her. “You can barely keep your eyes open. I’ll fill them in on what you told me, so the officers and agents aren’t complete blank slates when they interview you. It should make it a little easier for you. If you feel up to it after you rest and your testing later, you can talk to them then.”
Alice nodded. He was averting his gaze from her, which bothered her deeply. She opened her mouth to question his preoccupation, but he halted her with a soft, firm kiss on her lips. Her heart sunk a little when he turned and left the room.
Deep down, was he worried that she wasn’t really Alan Durand’s daughter? Vague former worries returned to haunt her, now clarified and flashing like neon signs in her brain. Dylan wanted to believe she wasn’t Kehoe’s child, perhaps as much as Alice wished it. The idea of being that monster’s progeny turned her insides to ice. But because it made Dylan and her uncomfortable, they couldn’t just assume that it wasn’t still a possibility. Even if she wasn’t Kehoe’s child, wasn’t it possible Lynn had slept with someone else? Wouldn’t that be a more likely scenario, than that Addie Durand was a miracle baby?
What would happen if the results of the genetic testing came back, and she learned she wasn’t Alan’s daughter? She’d be so disappointed, after hearing Alan’s voice in that dream, after feeling so much emotion associated with him. Daddy.
But Dylan would probably be devastated, too.
He’d been focused to the point of obsession for most of his life with the idea of finding her. Now that he knew the truth, would it change the way he felt about her?
*
ALICE gave her statement to the police and FBI that night after her early supper. When the agents first entered her room, carrying cases of what looked like electronic equipment, Dylan came with them.
“What’s all that stuff?” Alice asked uneasily after she’d been introduced to Special Agent Clayton and Agent Rogers. The older agent, Clayton, gave Dylan a pointed glance. Dylan stepped closer to her bed, and Alice had the uncomfortable feeling the agents had asked him to break some news to her.
“What is it?” she whispered, studying his lips closely for their hushed exchange.
“Alice, the agents need to photograph you.”
Alice blanched. “I look like hell,” she whispered. The last thing she wanted was to have strangers take her picture.
He grimaced. “Your injuries are evidence. If Kehoe pleads not guilty to your attack—”
“He’s going to plead not guilty?” she asked in a high-pitched voice.
“We don’t know yet. He’s still in the hospital, and he’s been out of it a lot. When he is awake, he’s not saying much. The point is, if this does go to trial,” Dylan continued quietly. “Your condition is important evidence. Even if it doesn’t go to trial, it’s valuable information for Kehoe’s sentencing. I’m sorry, honey. I can’t see any way around it.”
“No, it’s okay,” she said after a pause. “If all these bruises and bandages make it more likely for Kehoe to get the most severe sentence possible, then it’ll be worth it.”
“I was hoping you’d see it that way.” Alice glanced up at him when he didn’t move away. “There’s something else. They want to videotape the interview.”
Alice’s mouth fell open. She wanted to do whatever she should to nail Kehoe for what he’d done to her . . . for what he’d done to Lynn and Alan. But she’d never felt more vulnerable.
Dylan’s mouth curled into a small snarl when he saw her reaction. “I’ll tell them if they want to tape the interview, they’ll have to do it another time.”