“So, she didn’t have a part in what’s happened recently,” Isla muttered.
“No,” Noah said. “Randall and Marion were childhood friends. She had some family money, and she used it to help him get Harris settled after he took him. Later, after Randall married Leah and had more money than he could ever spend, he paid Marion well to stay quiet and keep raising Harris.”
Isla groaned. Randall hadn’t just stolen a baby. He had crafted an entire life of lies, and Marion had been woven into the heart of it.
The door opened, and Harris stepped in. Anais shot to her feet as if pulled by a string and wrapped her arms around him. He seemed to welcome it, holding her close, and Isla felt a wash of relief. At least they had each other now, with their mother gone and Randall facing prison if he even survived his injuries.
When Harris finally let go, his gaze shifted to Isla. “Thank you,” he said, his voice rough. “If you hadn’t stopped me, I would have pulled that trigger. I would have regretted it for the rest of my life.”
Emotion tugged at her chest, but she only gave a small nod.
Harris dragged a hand down his face. “I’ve seen Randall before, you know. Before tonight.”
That got Isla’s attention. “When?”
“Plenty of times,” Harris explained. “I didn’t know it was him until I saw his face tonight, but over the years, he was with Marion a lot. I thought he was her boyfriend. And later, he helped me get started in the music business.”
So, Randall had found a way to be part of his son’s life. The son he’d stolen.
“He called himself Frank Dalton,” Harris added. “I never questioned it.” His eyes burned with confusion and anger.
“No reason you would have questioned it,” Garrett assured him. “What about Leah, what about your mother, was she ever on any of those visits?”
“None,” Harris quickly replied, and that brought on yet more anger, more confusion.
Isla totally got that. All these years Randall had kept Leah from her own son, and he’d caused so many people to have to live with the sickening dread and guilt over Harris’ disappearance.
“Why? Why did Randall do this?” Harris asked. His voice cracked, and Anais slipped her arm around his waist, pulling him closer to her.
Isla drew in a breath, wishing she had a better answer for him. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “My guess is that once Randall took you, the truth got harder and harder to face. Up until you were seven, he could have been arrested. After that, maybe he was safe from prison, but admitting what he’d donewould have destroyed his reputation. He could have lost his daughter, probably his friends too. And Leah—she never would have forgiven him for keeping you from her.”
“And Randall was probably terrified of losing you, too, Harris,” Garrett added. “Whatever twisted way he thought about it, keeping the secret was his way of holding on.”
“He would have lost me anyway,” Harris muttered. “After all the secrecy, after all the lies… after what he did, there’s no way I’d want anything to do with him.”
Isla got that. She would have felt the same way.
Harris shifted on his feet, the weariness plain in his eyes. “I need to go,” he said, then glanced at Anais. “Do you want to come back with me to San Antonio? We can catch up there.”
Anais nodded quickly, relief flickering across her face. “Yeah. I’d like that.”
They were about to head out when the doors swung open and the doctor stepped into the waiting area. He looked tired but calm, his expression softening as he spotted them. “Sheriff Raines is going to be fine,” he said. “Randall pulled through surgery as well.”
The news drew a ripple of tension from Isla’s chest, though it was far from relief.
“I asked Randall if he wanted to see any family,” the doctor continued. “He said no. But he did say he would give a full confession to the police.”
Isla let out a slow breath. “Well,” she murmured, more to herself than anyone else, “that’s something at least.”
Garrett gave a hard nod at the doctor’s words. “Good. That saves us from dragging it out of him.”
Anais let out a shaky breath, her arm tightening around Harris. “I don’t want to see him,” she snarled. “Not now. Not ever. We’ll get by just fine without him.”
“Same,” Harris agreed. “He’s nothing to me now. He doesn’t get to be.” His voice wavered, but he didn’t back down.
Isla’s chest ached for them both. Relief was there, yes, but it was threaded with grief and betrayal. They had been shattered in different ways by the same man. She could only imagine the road ahead for them. Recovery would take time, maybe years. Counseling, too.
But at least they weren’t alone. They had each other, and that counted for more than Randall had ever given them.
