“Someone stole him,” I said softly. “And abused him.”
Dean leaned into my side. “My mommy and Brooke hurt me.”
I closed my eyes as my heart all but burst. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” he said. “They broke my arm.”
I surreptitiously turned my camera on and hit record, setting it down by Neo’s front paw face down.
I wrapped my arm around Dean. “What else did they do?”
So that was how I listened to the story of Brooke abusing Dean, and Nadine allowing it to happen.
Dean’s earliest childhood memory was of Brooke throwing him against the wall when he accidentally spilled some syrup on her favorite sweater.
Dean spoke for what felt like an hour as he told me everything he could remember.
Neo stayed for it all.
And that was how Gentry found us hours later.
Neo asleep on my foot. Dean asleep on my lap.
Me sitting there in between them crying my eyes out.
The next morning, at the crack of dawn, Black and Gentry listened to the recording in complete silence.
It was their fourth time listening, and they were taking copious amounts of notes.
I was sick to my stomach, forcing myself to sit there so I could answer any questions.
Black scrubbed at his eyes. “Montana has the death penalty.”
“They won’t kill two women for this,” Gentry growled.
There was a knock at the door, and Gentry froze.
We all knew who it was.
“Fuck,” Gentry whispered.
“I’ll get it.”
Gentry stood up as Black headed for the door.
The man who came into the kitchen looked exactly like his brother, only older. And stiffer.
He only stiffened even more when he saw Gentry standing there, alive and well.
His mouth dropped open and he froze.
“I’m alive,” Gentry said.
Van blinked.
“And you can’t tell a soul.”
Van blinked some more.
