Page 92 of Declan's Dove

“I’m okay, Carter. It’ll be okay.” Violet tries to reassure her son with tears streaming down her own face, her fear matching his, as they lead her down the hall and out of the emergency room doors in the opposite direction.

People who are meant to be good but don’t do good things. Carter’s words are brought back to mind.

“Declan O’Malley, you’re under arrest.” My rights are being read to me, but I’m too fucking angry to hear anything but Violet and Carter’s cries. This fucking prick set us up, and now that I’ve taken the fucking bait, I can’t do shit to help them.

Fuck!

“We’ll meet you at the precinct,” Caleb calls from behind my retreating back. “The lawyer is on her way.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Violet

I’ve never been so angry in my life.

I’m sitting in an interrogation room across from Mrs. Cortez. Every time she opens her mouth to speak, my heart sinks a little further. Knowing they were going to find out that James is Carter’s only other living relative, I felt I had to tell the truth.

A lot of fucking good that did for me.

Now I’m being booked for child neglect, fraud charges after faking my death, and insurance fraud because my husband cashed in on our life and homeowner’s insurance policies and they think I did it.

“Let me get this straight, Miss Dupree. Or should I say, Mrs. Swanson?” The snide bitch says. “Your fingerprints revealed quite a bit about you. But let’s recap what you’ve said your story is. According to your statement, you and your son were being abused by your husband, Captain James Swanson of the Baron’s Edge sheriff’s department for years, and instead of reporting it to the authorities, you faked your death. Burned your home to the ground. And changed your identity to move here to Oakridge and got yourself tangled up with a biker gang and their … lifestyle.”

Is she calling me a whore?

Stay calm, Violet. Now is not the time to lose your shit.

Breathing deeply and letting it out slowly, I repeat the same thought to myself three more times before speaking.

“My husband is a respected, though he shouldn’t be, officer in Baron’s Edge. He’s an abusive, lying, dirty, prick of a bastard that everyone in that money can buy you anything, including my husband’s loyalty, town.” Her eyes narrow and her arms are crossed. “James convinced everyone he was a good man, even me. Until he began hitting me, hurting me, raping me. And when that didn’t work to keep me compliant, he began hurting our son. He’s a sick, twisted bastard who wears a badge and has the scum of the fucking Earth to back him when the shield on his chest isn’t enough.”

“I’ve been in and out of the hospital for years, with broken bones, concussions, contusions, and do you know not one doctor or nurse ever reported it to anyone as suspicious? No one reported it when my son broke the same wrist twice in under a year. Even after I told them we were being abused, and do you know why, Mrs. Cortez?”

“Enlighten me,” she says, as if she thinks I’m full of shit. “Why go through all of this? Changing names, faking your death, committing fraud? Why not turn him in?”

“I didn’t commit fraud. I never saw a penny of that money. I took my son, and we ran, but I never stole any money.”

“All right, let’s assume that’s true. You still haven’t answered why you didn’t report your husband to his superiors for the abuse. Wouldn’t that have been easier than faking death?”

“Because everyone knew my husband to be a good, upstanding officer of the law. He was always so nice and helpful to the townspeople. And the ones that tried to help me turned on me after my husband found out their dirtiest secrets and blackmailed them into shutting up!” I yell. “So please, tell me what good it would’ve done for me to report it when everyone seems to want to protect the bastard responsible? No one was going to go against James Swanson without repercussions, and mine and Carter’s lives weren’t worth their humiliation or worse.”

“So, you’re saying you tried to report the abuse, and because your husband is a decorated officer, having won several community honors and awards known for his good heart and service to the people, no one would help you?”

Realization hits.

She’s one of them. She’s on James’s side. She works for him.

Panic restricts my throat, making it hard to breathe or swallow. My eyes fill with tears as the reality of everything takes hold and my heart begins to shatter into a million pieces.

He’s going to get my son. He’s somehow orchestrated all of this.

“If everything you’ve told me is true, Miss Dupree, or rather, Mrs. Swanson, the charges are still valid.” She smiles smugly. “You didn’t report the abuse. Therefore, neglecting Carter’s safety and well-being. You faked your death, changed your identity, committed fraud, and fled, essentially kidnapping Carter since his father believed him dead.” She stands and gathers her paperwork and files. “They’ll be in to take you back to your holding cell until we can get a time to take you before the judge, which could take hours or maybe days depending on the docket. Thank you for your cooperation. You’ve been very helpful.”

The door opens and two men enter. One holds the door while the other grips my bicep and drags me from the room and through the hallway, where they deposit me into a cold, damp cell alone—leaving my son unprotected and at his father’s mercy.

CHAPTER THIRTY

Declan

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