Glow (17 page)

“Who
did
benefit monetarily from Addie being taken out of the picture? Who was the Durand's heir before Addie was born?” Alice asked.

“Lynn and Alan were both only children. Their parents were all dead. Alan's mom and dad died in a small plane crash when he was twenty-four. Lynn's mother died when she was twelve of breast cancer, and her father had a heart attack a few years before she had Addie. They had made a few personal bequeathals in their original will to friends and distant cousins, but they weren't considerable amounts, given the worth of the entire estate. Certainly not enough money that someone would take such an extreme risk of going to jail, at least in my opinion. Every one of that handful
of original beneficiaries was wealthy in their own right, and couldn't have thought the bequeathals much of anything aside from a kind remembrance from Alan and Lynn. The FBI did do a cursory investigation of each beneficiary, but found nothing connecting them to the kidnapping. Before Addie was born, Alan and Lynn had planned for Durand to go public when the last of them died, and for the bulk of their personal wealth and the proceeds from the stock sale to be donated to charity.”

So . . . Addie had no close living relatives. Alice squashed down with effort the feeling of loneliness that descended upon her. She forced her brain to focus.

“What about the charities Alan and Lynn favored? Isn't it possible that somebody was angling to get more money for their cause by taking Addie out of the picture?”

“The FBI considered that, too. But nothing ever panned out as a significant connection or motivation in that direction, either. Besides, although Alan's plans were for Lynn and him to give the bulk of their estate to charity, he hadn't promised the money to specific organizations at the time of Addie's kidnapping. He didn't specifically designate charitable beneficiaries until he rewrote his will after Addie's kidnapping.”

“But the kidnappers planned to ransom Addie. Isn't money motive enough?”

“Maybe,” he said quietly. “But personally, I think there was never any plan to actually send a ransom note. Cunningham and Stout might have
thought
that was the intention when they kidnapped Addie Durand. But at some point after the kidnapping, I believe whoever hired them told them the plan had changed. I think they—or possibly just Cunningham alone—were given orders to murder Addie . . . to make her disappear forever.”

“So it really wasn't a matter of accidental death from an overdose of the sedative they gave her?”

“I don't think so. Given Stout's confession about Cunningham
accidentally over-sedating Addie, and his insistence that he wasn't responsible, he might not have been involved in the murder. Then again, he might have just been pointing the finger before Cunningham fingered him.”

Her entire body seemed to pulse with the beat of her heart. It was so strange, talking about these cruel facts so rationally.

“Why?”
she asked. “What makes you think that another person was involved, and an order was given to murder her?”

He shook his head, and she once again felt his restrained frustration. “It's the only thing that makes sense to me. It's hard to explain what it was like talking to Cunningham. The guy was a sociopath. He'd mix up facts with straight-up lies, but he'd also twist the facts. I'm not even sure he was aware of doing it sometimes. He'd just automatically try to recast himself and his actions in a more positive light.”

“Like the fact that he claims the reason he saved Addie from the creek and turned her over to Sissy was because he was suddenly a saved man.”

“Right. Don't get me wrong. There might have been a tiny sliver of truth to that. I remember Addie's eyes. She was such a pretty little girl. She practically glowed with life. If any human being could spark a redemption, it was Addie,” he said, his voice going hoarse. Alice held her breath when he paused, his focus clearly in the past. Suddenly, his gaze sharpened on her. “It wouldn't shock me to find out there was a bit of fact to Cunningham's story, enough for him to fabricate a lie around that kernel of truth, anyway. But Cunningham was a manipulator at heart, so when he pulled Addie out of that creek, he was planning for the future. That's the bottom line. He'd probably considered it before, but his scheme kicked in when he realized that Addie was miraculously alive and amnesiac to his crime. Fate nudged him in that direction. He might have gotten a sweet deal in payment from whomever hired him to kidnap and kill Addie, but how much sweeter would
it be if he threatened whomever had hired him with the knowledge that Adelaide Durand was still alive and stashed away in a place only Cunningham knew? What kind of blackmail money might he be able to get, dangling the threat of an anonymous tip to the police? With Addie alive and in his possession, there was always the chance of a future ransom, too. Plus, although Alan hadn't yet put up a reward for useful clues that would lead to his daughter, Cunningham must have realized Alan eventually would.”

“Alan put up reward money?”

“Yeah. He offered half a million dollars to anyone who provided information that would lead to Addie's recovery. When Addie was still missing after . . . after ten months, he raised the award money price to one million.”

She stared at him, mute with disbelief and confusion. A million dollars of reward money, and no one stepped forward? And . . .

“Why
ten months
?” she demanded.

His gaze bounced off her.

“Dylan? What's the significance of ten months? Why did Alan raise the reward to a million then?” she repeated, thinking he hadn't understood her query.

“It was ten months after Addie was kidnapped that Jim Stout was arrested and made the drunk confession he later recanted. Before that, the FBI assumed Addie was most likely dead, given simple crime statistics and the amount of time that had passed without a ransom request. After Stout confessed that she was accidentally killed, they were even more certain. Despite the fact that Stout recanted once he was sober, that incident altered the flavor of the investigation. Almost no one held any hope after that point that Addie was still alive.”

“Oh,” Alice whispered, imagining the horrible scene when the Durands received the news that Stout had claimed Addie had been accidentally killed.

“Alan flat-out refused to believe Stout, though. He never
stopped believing Addie could be alive, even on his death bed,” Dylan said quietly. She was glad he didn't comment when she looked away and furtively wiped at a tear. For a moment, they didn't speak as Alice struggled to calm herself.

“My whole point is,” Dylan continued somberly after a moment, “why
should
Avery Cunningham go along with the moneyman's plan to get rid of Addie? Between potential blackmail, ransom, and reward money, she was a precious commodity.”

“But Cunningham never admitted he was hired by someone, did he?”

“No. He denied it, but in the same sly way he used to deny that he had anything to do with the kidnapping for all those years. I started to recognize when he was lying.”

“If it were true that they were hired for the job, why wouldn't Cunningham just confess? He was dying and admitted to the kidnapping. What would it matter to him at that point?”

“Again, I don't know exactly. It could be any number of things. It's possible whoever hired him had some kind of hold on Cunningham or a family member. We'll never know for sure.
I
think it was some combination of the fact that Cunningham wanted to see himself as a misunderstood hero—a sort of scoundrel with a heart of gold—and that he actually
did
feel some twisted sense of liking or loyalty toward Sissy, Addie, or both. He was a convicted murderer. He was going to die in prison, and knew it. Exposing who had hired him for the kidnapping and possibly murder wouldn't get him anything substantial. Plus, if he confessed that he'd been hired by someone, it might bring into question his motives for keeping Addie alive.
Had
he kept Addie alive to blackmail whomever hired him? If people questioned his motives, then how could Cunningham continue to tell himself that he'd been a decent man, even a hero, for one brief flashing moment in his life? How could he claim any worth when he met his maker? People lie to others and the world for much less motivation,” he finished grimly.

Alice leaned back on the couch. “You really
did
get to know Cunningham,” she said, stunned by his concise knowledge of the psychological workings of the criminal's mind.

He grimaced. “It wasn't pleasant, listening to that asshole go on about himself. I had to make myself what he needed: an avid listener to his bravado. He was a slimy, dangerous braggart,” Dylan muttered, his mouth pressed into a hard line.

“And yet you went like clockwork to visit him in prison,” Alice said softly. “Thank you.”

He rubbed the side of his head distractedly, brushing off her praise. “I was worried about telling you all this. I know it must come as a shock, that Cunningham knew Sissy.” He exhaled heavily and leaned back next to her, their shoulders touching.

“It does and it doesn't,” she said hollowly. “Does it surprise me that Sissy would associate with scum like Avery Cunningham or that she would take me in under such . . .
sleazy
circumstances? No. Not really. She collected people all the time. She liked having all those people addicted to her product, pulling up to her trailer day and night, knocking on her door. Needy people. Desperate. Sissy didn't do relationships in the classic sense of give and take, but she loved having people seek her out. Dependent on her. She was a born drug dealer. She probably thought she'd hit the jackpot taking in a child, having something so completely at her mercy. Another human being who would be”—her voice cracked, and she took a deep breath—“utterly dependent on her to survive.”

Dylan winced and shut his eyes.

F
or a moment, they sat in silence. It took Alice a moment to comprehend what she was feeling. Everything she'd said to Dylan was true, but it didn't stop the hurt that went through her: a terrible, cringing shame.
This
had been the reason she hadn't allowed herself to question how she'd ended up with Sissy. She'd been unconsciously fending off
this
pain.

If one of Sissy's whacked-out “friends” had asked her to keep a puppy as a favor, she probably would have. Sissy could be loud, outgoing, and friendly when she wanted to be and when her latest batch of meth was particularly good. She'd have fed that puppy sporadically, bragged about how much the puppy loved her, and kicked it when it got in her way. For days on end, she'd forget the puppy even existed until it suddenly showed up in front of her blurry-eyed stare.

That's
what Alice had been all these years: a puppy dropped on the front door of a drug addict. At least previously, she'd lived under the misperception that she'd come from Sissy's body, that she shared some kind of primal link with her. But no. She and Sissy were strangers that fate had tossed together into a trailer for fourteen years of Alice's life. Sissy didn't belong to her any more than Alice belonged to Sissy.

It was an awful truth . . . a severing one. What Dylan had told her sickened her . . . but it had liberated her, too.

“Why didn't they turn me in for the reward money? That seems out of character for the Reed clan,” Alice said darkly.

“I'm not sure. Maybe Sissy didn't have all the details as to your identity at first, but as time went on, she started to put two and two together, given the news reports and what she knew about Cunningham's character. She certainly knew what she was doing, disguising your hair color all those years. Either way, she had to realize from the beginning you belonged to someone else, and that she was keeping you illegally. Maybe Cunningham threatened to implicate her in the kidnapping and held that over her head.”

“Sissy definitely wouldn't want the police nosing around our trailer.”

“Even if any of your uncles were like Al, and they came to suspect the truth, they must have realized they could very easily be implicated or even blamed for the crime. From what I understand about the Reed brothers, I doubt the police would have any trouble believing they were either involved, or actually the main perpetrators.”

“I can believe Sissy would do it. But
Al.
That he never told me the truth for all of those years, that he played along. That . . . sucks.”

Hurts
.

“I thought he cared about me, even if it
was
just a little,” she finished.

“Well, he didn't sell you out for the reward money. Maybe he really did consider you family. That must mean something. People are strange. Complicated,” Dylan added, reaching for her hand. He grasped it in his encompassing, warm hold and settled it on his thigh. “That's one lesson life has taught both you and me. People can be cruel, petty, self-involved, and yet they can suddenly do something that makes you see their humanity. Sometimes I think it'd be better if they didn't, because it would be easier just to straight up hate them that way.”

Alice turned her head, staring into his eyes. She knew he was ambivalent about his mother, who had been a prostitute. His mom hadn't planned for or wanted Dylan, and typically treated him with disgusted anger, or merely discounted and ignored him. Dylan had been left to fend for himself in a cold mean world.

Yet Dylan had loved his mother, too, and wanted to be loved by her. It was human nature, to crave connection, nurturance and approval from a mother or father figure. Alice knew that lesson all too well.

She released her hand from his, leaned toward him and pressed her palm to his heart.

“I hate Sissy for what she's done to me,” she said shakily, staring at Dylan's chest. “I don't think I'll ever forgive her. But I don't hate Uncle Al. Sissy was the worst among them. She was always the instigator. She'd whine and complain and manipulate until they finally did whatever it was she wanted, just to shut her up. As weak and ineffective as she seemed on the surface, she was the leader of them. She was the Queen of Passive-Aggressive Land. Al's and my other uncles' worst fault was weakness, but Al stood up to her the most. Almost every time he did stand up to her, he'd do it for my sake.” She grimaced, lost in painful memories for a moment. “At least if Sissy were in prison, she'd be away from the drugs. She might live a few years longer away from the poison. Same for most of my uncles. But I don't want to see Al locked up,” she admitted miserably. She was suddenly having trouble meeting Dylan's stare. “That makes me weak, too, doesn't it?”

“
No
. The last thing you are is weak, Alice. It's a complicated, confusing situation. I think you need time to let things settle. It's a lot to absorb.”

“Do you mean that someday, I might want vengeance? I might want to see Al sent to prison?” She wasn't sure she'd
ever
want to see that day come.

“I mean that nothing is going to happen this minute. We have
a reprieve, although I can't guarantee how long that reprieve will last. I wanted you to have some time, no matter how brief it is, so you can start to come to terms with things.”

“That's why you didn't want Jim Sheridan to understand who I was yet,” she said. She pressed tighter with her hand, feeling dense muscle and the strong steady beat of his heart resound into her flesh. A powerful longing rose up in her to be surrounded by his arms. Her throat ached. He covered her hand, and she sensed his nonverbal prompt. Uncertainly, she raised her gaze to meet his.

“If Jim finds out the truth, he'll be obligated to inform the FBI. It's their case. They'll come here to question you and me.”

“And you'll have to tell them about Sissy and Al and the others,” she whispered, understanding making her throat constrict more.

“Sissy and possibly some of your uncles are going to be implicated in this crime eventually. I want you to understand it's not something I can stop. Because I'm not telling the truth immediately doesn't mean I'm condoning silence forever about this. The keeping of secrets is what got us to this point. The truth
should
be told. When the time comes, I'm going to tell the FBI everything I know. Call it what you want: fate, karma, or simple justice, Sissy and some or all of your uncles knowingly harbored a kidnapped child for years and years. They lied regularly about her identity and prevented her return to her rightful parents.”

“They lied about
my
identity,” Alice said, staring blankly at Dylan's chest.

Shivers ran in rivulets down her body. It felt like ice water had been poured on top of her head. Dylan grasped her wrist and lifted her hand from his chest. Her gaze shot up to meet his.

“I was Addie Durand.”

A muscle leapt in his taut cheek. “You
are
Addie Durand.” Another shudder coursed through her. “You're Alice Reed, too,” he assured roughly. “You always will be, no matter what happens.”

Her eyes stung. She shut them reflexively. She wasn't so sure she wanted to be Alice Reed anymore, given what Dylan had just told her. It had always
felt
like she didn't belong as a child, the notes of her spirit clashing discordantly with her supposed kin's. Now, here was the truth. They'd never been her family. Never. It was a jarring, horrible,
incredible
truth. And yet . . .

It was starting to feel real.

She shook. His arms closed around her. He brought her against him, so that her chest pressed against his ribs and her face was buried in his chest. It felt wonderful.

This.
This was the opposite of what she'd felt in Sissy Reed's trailer. This was what she'd longed for her whole life, to feel safe and prized.

She hugged him back. Hard. Thankfully, he didn't speak for several tense moments. Perhaps he realized if she was forced to respond, she'd betray her ragged emotional state . . . expose her grief.

“Alice?” he asked quietly when she'd wiped the last of her tears on his shirt and brought herself under control.

“Yeah?” she sniffed.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.”

He chafed her upper arms with his hands.

“We never got to talk about what happened the night you found me under the stairs,” she said.

“Are you really up to getting into that now?” he asked, and she sensed his wary watchfulness.

She nodded. She was tired, but the things Thad had said that night had been like a worm burrowing under her skin. So much had come out tonight; so much released to the surface. She couldn't bear the thought of Thad's allegations continuing to haunt her.

“Thad had said something that upset me,” she began, her voice sounding congested.

“What?”

She lifted her head but kept her gaze lowered. “He said that his father had told him that the circumstances by which you became CEO of Durand were . . . suspicious.”

He slid his fingers beneath her chin and lifted gently. She met his narrow-eyed stare.

“Schaefer was trying to
warn
you about me?”

“I guess so.”

“Why? Does he know we're involved? Did you tell him?”

“No!”

“Then how does he know?”

“I don't know,” she exclaimed, suddenly feeling like she was on the witness stand. She struggled to recall what Thad had said when she asked him how he knew she was involved with Dylan.
“Do you think a guy doesn't notice when the girl he's fallen for is completely in love with someone else?”

She was uncomfortably aware of Dylan waiting.

“He said something about recognizing the signs because he cared about me so much . . . ”

She faded off, her cheeks warming.

“Because he's in love with you himself, and bound to notice where your attentions lie?” Dylan asked incredulously. “That's bullshit, Alice. You didn't believe him, did you?”

“That he's infatuated with me?” she asked, frowning.

“No. That he knew you and I were involved because he can read the mind of the woman he loves,” Dylan said sarcastically. “He's been
following
you. He knows where you go at night.”

“He's not following me! That's—” She halted herself from saying
ridiculous
because she suddenly remembered those two times he'd come upon her in the woods. The Durand Estate was awfully large to just coincidentally run into her when she was alone and vulnerable.

“I refuse to believe that my two choices are either to trust in
Thad or trust in you,” she said, feeling cornered. “Maybe he
has
noticed us coming up here at night, I don't know, but that doesn't mean he's got evil intentions toward me.”

“So that's it?” Dylan asked, a hard gleam to his eyes. “Schaefer is trying to turn you against me because he doesn't want the competition?”

“No,” she admitted reluctantly after a moment. “I think someone is telling him things,
negative
things about you.”

“Who do you think it is?”

Alice swallowed thickly, Dylan's sharp question bringing the importance of her answer home to her. “He wouldn't say,” she admitted. “But he said they were trustworthy. And he got at least
some
of the information from his father. I got the impression that whoever is telling him stuff about you or about you and me is friends with his father or something. Do you think it could be Kehoe?”

“It could very well be. I don't think it's much of a secret that Kehoe would like to see me taken down a peg or two. And he
is
friends with Thad's father.”

Alice frowned. “So we get back to Kehoe again.”

“We do,” Dylan mused. “And he's on my list.”

“Your list?”

Dylan nodded distractedly. “I have a list of people who were alive during the kidnapping, who had the means to hire a couple known criminals, and who had some knowledge of Addie's activities at the camp. But the essential fact remains, Kehoe would have had no motive whatsoever to become embroiled in a crime of that magnitude. So what
did
the mighty Judge Schaefer have to say about me?”

“Just that the there was more than one person who expressed their doubts about the validity of you being named CEO by Alan Durand before he died.”

“Judge Schaefer implied that I coerced Alan while he was sick and fragile?”

“Something like that, yes,” Alice said hesitantly.

“You don't need to look like that, Alice. Do you think that's some novel accusation? I've heard similar charges and whisperings for years now. Fortunately, Alan Durand was a very smart man. His mind remained as sharp as it ever was up until almost the very end. He'd already locked up things tight with his will and estate planning far before he weakened. The naysayers never had a chance, given Alan's foresight and brilliance. The only thing left to them was to hiss their conspiracy theories to each another.”

Alice listened to this with a sense of relief. It didn't surprise her that there would be those who would dissent when the transfer of so much power went wholesale to Dylan.

“Was there something else that Schaefer said that bothered you?”

“Yes,” she admitted in a small voice.

“What?” he asked, whisking his hand along her jawline and caressing the side of her neck. She shivered in pleasure when his long fingers slid beneath the hair at her nape and he rubbed the tense muscles there. Had he sensed her increased uncertainty and was trying to relax her?

“Thad probably was wrong about it,” she wavered.

“Alice, just tell me.”

“He said that Sidney was one of the people who questioned your suitableness as CEO.”