Page 34 of Dead Man's Wish
“I didn’t understand the flowers. No one did really. We had our guesses, but that’s all they’ll ever be. Whatever the reason, they were stupid. I was never pure. I was never yours to ruin. Something you’ve always failed to comprehend is that this is my story, always has been. I’m in charge, Hale. If I wanna be saved, I’ll handle it. I couldn’t be ruined because I’ve never been perfect. You tried to hurt me, and even from the grave, you try to haunt my happiness. It’s not happening because I’m not allowing it.”
I stepped back, my chest rising with rapid breaths. All I could hear was the thump of my heartbeat.
“I’m not allowing it, Brent!” I was screaming again, and birds fled from the tree above me. “Dead men don’t get a happy ending. You’re a rotting bastard and I’m done!” Another step back and the cool wind crept inside my jacket. The roaring blood rush settled. What had felt like a crack in my chest soothed as a weight released. A single tear fell as I looked at his headstone. Typically with a light-gray stone, the rainy weather left streaks down its face. A small angel sat to the side, and it felt cruel to think about how his mother wasted money on that gaudy statue.
He’d never know peace.
“Someone is approaching her from the south side.” Jaiden spoke this time and I fought the instinct to turn around.
“Copy, I have eyes on them. Don’t move yet, it’s an older woman.” Bishop sat still at his appointed location, and I couldn’t even tell he’d been paying attention to me. Moments later, his voice came through again. “It’s Hale’s mother.”
His warning came too late to make an exit.
“My son doesn’t get visitors. Truth be told, he hardly sees me here.” She spoke to my back as I was frozen in terror to face the woman after my belligerent display. Crying for her came far too easy, and I was too weak to keep it in as I turned to her.
Her face was soft, physically and in expression. There were no traces of anger or contempt, just a sadness that painted her smile. Standing before her with a wet, streaky face and likely dripping snot, she still smiled at me.
“Bexley, dear. Quite the surprise.”
“Mrs. Hale,” I choked out. I wiped my face the best I could manage, and guilt moved through my chest. “I’m sorry, if you heard any of that.” It was true. I meant everything I said, but I’d never want her subjected to it.
“Worse words could come from you. I owe you the biggest of apologies.” She moved closer to my side and looked over the plot where her only child was buried. “It’s Ms. Hale. There never was a Mr. Hale. He left before Brent was born—a right asshole, too. I prayed endlessly that he wouldn’t grow up to be like him. I should’ve clarified I wished him to be better, not worse.”
Her somber laugh put me at ease. Her small arm wrapped around my back in an awkward hug.
“I normally wouldn’t be here,” I confessed. “I vowed never to come back, but therapy says I should confront the ghosts of my past.”
“You don’t have to explain yourself to me.” She squeezed me to her. “You’re always welcome to come and shout at him. His actions were unforgivable, and I only wish that I’d noticed sooner.”
“Can I ask you something? It might be personal given the circumstances.” An ick twisted my stomach. Ms. Hale was being sincere in allowing me space for grief, but I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to speak to her freely like this.
“Anything, dear.”
“Was Brent close to anyone? Did he ever have friends over?” I turned away from the headstone, sick of looking at him. A slight drizzle fell around us, and a chill slipped between my coat.
“Friends, no. Not many kids in the neighborhoods would come over, and no one from school bothered to visit. Even his birthday parties were passed. His cousin, Nicky, that’s the only person he’d ever shown care for. Unfortunately, before they were teenagers, his aunt moved them out of town and they never talked again that I know of.” Her eyes watered from the memories. The wrinkles in her skin deepened as she frowned.
“Your sister?”
“His father’s sister. It was a short-lived situation. I didn’t know his family well before we conceived Brent, and who I did know didn’t impress me. As it goes, I still managed to get pregnant.” She rifled through her bag and pulled out a small umbrella. She popped it open and held it over our heads. “I was hopeful though; his sister fell pregnant shortly after. Terry—his father—left and she reached out once. Years passed and she called me again to tell me she moved in nearby. She had the same shiftiness, and it was more trouble than I cared for, let me tell you. Despite a lack of effort on my part, those kids somehow found each other.”
I couldn’t form the appropriate response to that information dump, but the crackle in my ear saved me. “We’ll investigate the cousin when we get back to the precinct. Get out of there smoothly.”
“Ms. Hale, I appreciate you talking to me. Thank you for validating that anger, but my husband is in the car and I don’t want to keep him waiting. You deserve some privacy with your son. Enjoy your afternoon.” I straightened and stepped away from her.
My mind didn’t stop turning over the name Nicky as I hurried back to Jaiden’s car. When I flung open the door and plopped in the seat, he looked me over. “We need more on Nicky.”
Fifteen
Journal Entry
August 11, 2018
Brent Hale
Nicky reachedout to me today, and it’s been so long, I don’t know what to do. The meeting is planned for a week from now, but I can’t focus on it. My thoughts are consumed with her—with Bexley. I don’t have time to entertain childish fairy tales and promises anymore. The priorities I set for myself have shifted. My goal is to have Bexley under me, under my knife, submissive and spilling her truths. I’ll win her heart or take it.
She’s hidden them away, but they’re there despite the lies she tells herself and friends. I know she plans to see Mari that same day, and I just can’t pass up the opportunity to have her alone.
