“What is it?” I looked up, stifling a cough.
“It’s a summary of the report finalising the case of Mclary versus Mclary.”
“And am I still in trouble?”
The thought of dying in prison?
Of living my last ticking time without Della?
Fuck, it was more than I could bear.
Della stiffened beside me, ready to leap up and strangle the detective, just like I was ready to commit murder to ensure I stayed out of jail.
Screw treatment and houses and towns, I’d take her back to the forest and live for however long I could, happy and content, just her and me.
“You can’t blame him,” Della snapped. “He didn’t do anything—”
“Ribbon.” I placed a rough hand over her soft one, keeping her steady. “Quiet.”
She flashed me a look, her gaze lingering on my mouth.
I had an insane urge to kiss her, to kiss her as much as I possibly could before…I couldn’t.
Martin shook his head. “No. We’ve ruled Miss Mclary was placed in that backpack by her mother, and you were unaware. Under that proviso, we aren’t calling it a kidnapping.”
“What are you calling it?” I asked around a slight cough.
Della narrowed her eyes, her fingers flinching under mine.
“A rescue.” He smiled gently. “A miracle that two kids survived against all odds.”
“Wow.” John cleared his throat, tears glittering in his big eyes. Ever since losing Patricia, and now my secret malady, he wore his emotions on his sleeve—a gruff, grizzly bear turned into a teddy.
He was against me not telling Della. He hated that I’d forbid him from informing anyone.
But that was my choice, and he had to honour it.
Otherwise, well—I’d promised he’d never see us again if he did.
It was my secret to tell…when I was ready.
John flicked me a glance before asking the officer, “So…what does that mean?”
Martin grinned. “It means he’s free.”
My shoulders sagged as if someone cut my strings. Della slouched too, a massive sigh exploding from her lips and making the pages dance.
“Now that there’s a surviving heir to the Mclary estate, I advise you to get in touch with a lawyer to see what value you’ll receive once the bank has claimed the outstanding debt. You’ll have to undergo a DNA test to confirm you are their descendent, but that’s just a formality.”
I stiffened, recalling what poison existed on that farm and that I hadn’t been the only one living there. “Should she undergo any other tests? To make sure she’s healthy?”
John smothered a heavy sigh laced with sadness. “Shit, you don’t think she has—”
“Quiet,” I hissed.
“What’s he talking about?” Della asked. “Ren?”
“Nothing.” I clutched her hand in mine. “That house wasn’t exactly sanitary. It might be best if you have some tests to ensure you’re healthy and nothing infected you when you were a baby.”
Things like asbestos…a killer that took ten to forty years to make itself known.
She could’ve been infected by me and second-hand contamination. Or by her father or mother or crawling around in silicate minerals and fibrous crystals in the dirt.
I’d researched.
I’d studied.
I knew my enemy intimately.
Della had taught me the power of education, and I knew enough to understand what risks she faced and what conclusions I’d have in my future.
How I would die.
How it would feel.
How I would look to Della as I slowly traded life for death.
That was the hardest part.
Knowing how much it would hurt her…seeing me that way.
Martin raised an eyebrow. “Um, I can ask. I know a few officers found asbestos onsite, so it might not be a bad thing to rule out.”
I froze.
I hadn’t meant for him to blare the damn word.
John tensed in his chair as we both looked at Della.
Pleading that in this, she wouldn’t be too smart.
That in this awful, awful matter, she’d not see the truth.
Martin scribbled something down. “Heaven forbid anything comes back positive, but there are open litigations and settlements for anyone who may have been exposed.”
Please…don’t let her know.
Della studied the table, her mind racing before she bit her lip and asked something that made my heart gallop for different things. “What about the other kids? Are you tracking them down? Have you found any of them who were sold to that Kyle Harold my mother’s letter mentioned?”
Martin took a sip of his coffee. “We’ve sent the names to a larger police force and, as far as I’m aware, they’re in the process of going through missing persons and wanted offenders. I’ll ask for an update and get back to you.”
“Okay.” Della nodded. “Hopefully, a few can be found before it’s too late.”
Too late.
Too late.
The words echoed in my skull.
Despite my anger at my body’s desire to kill me, I couldn’t be greedy.
I’d had so much longer than those kids.
I was the lucky one.
Once again, the guilt that I never went back settled heavily.
“We’re also looking for your mother, Ren.”
“Don’t.” I balled my hands. “As far as I’m concerned, she’s dead. I never want to hear about her again, got it?”