“No,” Governor Harris said quickly. “No, Brooke. This is our way of doing…something,” he said for lack of a better word. “Nothing will change what happened, but this money is for you to use to build a future.”
Mrs. Harris gazed up at her, with watery eyes, imploring her. “Please take the money. There’s no reason to ruin my husband’s career and life overthis.” Mrs. Harris had gone too far turning what happened to her and those other women into simply “this.”
The fury she’d kept in check to this point hit the boiling point and spewed out with her next words.
“Overthis,” Brooke repeated. “Thisthat we’re talking about is my murdered daughter.Thisis about me and Cody and a little girl who never got to be here with us.”
She wished she could make them understand. They’d lost their son, but they were more worried about a job and a reputation. Granted, the governor had worked his whole life to earn both, but it shouldn’t matter at a time like this.
“Why couldn’t you have just come here to tell me how sorry you are for what happened? Why couldn’t you express your sympathy for my daughter in a way that made me feel like you understand all that I’ve lost? You’re parents. Yet I just don’t think you get it.”
She snatched the check out of the governor’s hand and glanced at the amount. “I’ve had a lot of time to think about what your son cost me.” She faced Cody. “About what we’ve lost.” She turned to Mrs. Harris. “A half a million dollars. In your estimation, this is what compensates for a life lost. A life never lived. This is what my daughter’s life was worth. This is what your son’s life is worth to you.”
They looked helpless to answer.
“You just don’t get it.” The anguish washed over her. “I never got to see her face. I don’t know what color hair she had, or what color her eyes were. I never got to hold her in my arms after she was born and count her fingers and toes. I never heard her voice, or saw her take her first steps. I’ll never walk her to her first day of school. I’ll never get to play the tooth fairy or Santa Clause for her. Cody will never get to put together a dollhouse, or a new bike for her the night before Christmas. We’ll never know if she wanted to be a doctor, an engineer, a cowgirl, a writer, a chef, or a lawyer like her dad. I won’t talk to her about boys in high school, or help her pick out her prom dress or wedding gown. I’ll never see her father walk her down the aisle and marry someone she loves beyond words. I’ll never hold my grandchild in my arms, knowing they’re a part of that beautiful girl I lost.”
The tears streamed down her cheeks unchecked. The sadness welled to overwhelming proportions. “Do you get it now?” She wanted them to understand. To feel her pain. But how could they? Their son lived.
“You carried your son for nine months and gave birth to him. You had twenty-plus years of making memories with him. You got to watch him grow up and go off to college. It may have turned out badly, but I bet you wouldn’t trade those twenty-plus years for anything.” She shook the check at them. “Certainly not a half a million dollars.”Maybe for prestige and power, she thought bitterly.
She sucked in a ragged breath. “You’ve got a million memories stored up to pull out to console you and remind you of what you had with him. You have years ahead of you to make more memories. I didn’t get a single day with my daughter!” She sucked in a ragged breath, letting the tears fall. “Not even an hour with her,” she added miserably. “The last thing I remember before your son attacked me is her rolling and kicking inside my belly. That’s the only memory I have of my daughter, what itfelt like to have her move inside me.” She pressed her hands to her stomach. “And now I’m empty. I’m empty all the way to my soul.”
Cody moved behind her, put his hands on her shoulders, squeezed, and kissed her on the head, letting her know he was there, backing her up, grieving with her.
She held up the slip of paper. “This check is to buy my silence. I want you to know that I know it. And if you want me to even contemplate giving it to you, then I want something in return. And I want it before I agree to anything.”
The room remained completely quiet and still, except for the soft weeping of Mrs. Harris and her own mom.
Tears spilled down her face. Brooke didn’t even bother to wipe them away. Each one was like another event she’d miss in her daughter’s life.
“You will go to the women your son attacked and tell them he’s locked up and will never hurt them again. You will offer to pay for whatever medical or mental health aid they need because of what your son did to them.”
Governor Harris looked at Cody, surprised.
Cody bowed his head and touched it to her shoulder.
She went still, wondering what they knew and she didn’t.
“I didn’t want to upset you, or set back your recovery. It was a calculated risk and one that’s coming back to bite me in the ass.” Cody turned her to face him. “I didn’t say anythingyetto give you more time to heal.”
“What is it?” Her stomach fluttered with dread.
“The student Adam raped committed suicide. Her family said she was devastated after the rape and unable to cope with what happened. I didn’t want to tell you and bring back all those horrible memories. You were doing so well… I wanted to talk to your psychiatrist about how and when to tell you.”
“You should have told me,” she snapped, fisting her hands at her sides. “We don’t keep secrets from each other. Remember?”
“Yes.” Cody hung his head, then looked at her again. “I wanted to wait for the right time to tell you in a way that softened the blow as much as possible, or at least didn’t send you into a downward spiral. I love you. Hurting you isn’t easy for me.”
Of course Cody tried to protect her from any more bad news and tragedy.
She frowned even as the tears came again.
That poor girl.
She turned back to the governor and his wife. “So your son is responsible for two deaths. If that doesn’t motivate you to keep your son under lock and key for the rest of his life, I don’t know what will.”
The governor sighed. “Brooke, I’m not heartless, and when I said I care about you and how you’re doing, I meant it. And I certainly could have handled this conversation with more tact and compassion. This is hard for us, knowing what he did and that, as his parents, we bear part of the responsibility. I’ve promised you he’ll never get out. I get that you have reservations that I’ll keep my word. When it comes to this…you…I will.
