He walked tentatively, swiveling his head around every few seconds as though scouring the trees for some kind of threat. Did he think he was about to be ambushed? That her invitation had more to do with revenge than the discussion she’d suggested they have?
Or was he just jumpy from having spent forty percent of his life in a cage? Child killers typically didn’t fare well in prison.
“Over here,” she called, and squared her shoulders. She’d soon be face-to-face with a man who’d taken the lives of his wife and daughter and would’ve killed Dallas, too, if he could’ve found him. Just because Robert had served his time didn’t change the depravity of what he’d done.
But she was a little less scared of him once she could see how timid and uncertain he was—and how careful he was to stand far enough away from her.
She drew a calming breath. “I’m glad you could make it,” she said, keeping her voice cordial. He looked enough like the man in the article from twenty-three years ago that she could tell who he was. She could even see a little of him in Dallas. But she wouldn’t have recognized him if she hadn’t expected to encounter him. He’d lost a lot of his hair, had big bags under his eyes and he was rail thin. Prison had aged him by a lot more than the years he’d spent there.
“Thank you for calling me,” he said politely, almost obsequiously. “I don’t mean to bother you, especially during the holidays, but I was hoping to speak to Dallas.” He lowered his voice. “I know he might not be excited by the idea of...of hearing from me, but I’d appreciate the opportunity to apologize in person—if possible.”
“That’s why I gave you his post office box. So you could apologize,” she said tartly. “You didn’t mention that you were getting out, or that you would try to visit him.”
“I was afraid you wouldn’t respond if I told you that,” he admitted. Then, more defensively, “Regardless of everything else, he’s still my son.”
She felt her spine stiffen. “No, he’s not. He’d be dead if it were up to you. He’s my son. And I’ll be damned if you’re going to get anywhere near him.”
He stepped back as if blown there by the power of her conviction. No doubt he was surprised; she was known for her kindness. Not only that but he’d lived with his crimes—and men who had committed similar terrible acts—for so long he’d probably lost all perspective. But, like any other mother, she could be fierce when one of her children was threatened.
“He...”
“He what?” she challenged when he didn’t finish.
He squinted at her before shifting his gaze to his feet. “He should be able to decide for himself.”
She couldn’t help remembering Cal pointing out the same thing only an hour or so earlier. Damn it. She knew they were both right and hated that she couldn’t simply step in and force Robert to go away for good. Was she out of line for even wanting to? Could he hold the key to putting Dallas’s heart and mind to rest, bring him closure and a worthy explanation at last?
She doubted it, which was why she was struggling with this. “I can’t believe he’d ever agree to see you, but you’re right, it’s not my decision. I am, however, going to ask you for a favor.”
“A favor?” he responded, looking up.
“Don’t worry. I’ll make it worth your while.”
He wiped away the water dripping into his eyes from what was left of his hair. “What do I need to do?”
“Leave town. I’m getting married on Saturday, and I don’t want you to ruin it. Then there’s Christmas. Don’t bother us until it’s all over.”
He hesitated. “I don’t plan to ruin anything. I just want to see Dallas.”
“You’ve made that clear. But you’ve waited this long. Why does it have to be right away?”
“It doesn’t. It’s just that—” he cleared his throat “—I don’t plan to settle here. There’s no work for...for someone like me. And since I don’t own a car, it’s hard for me to get around if there isn’t a bus or some other form of public transit. If I leave, I’m afraid I won’t have the means to come back.”
She wished he wouldn’t. “I’ll give you the money. All you have to do is disappear for a few weeks so that Dallas isn’t faced with your release right now.”
He studied her suspiciously. “I wouldn’t want him to think I sold out. That...that the money meant more to me...”
“Oh for God’s sake!” she snapped. “You killed his mother and his sister! Do you think taking some money from me is going to be a big deal?”
As soon as she put it that way, he shoved his hands in his pockets and bowed his head. “I guess not.”
She attempted to calm down. She dealt with difficult situations all the time, wasn’t normally so easily rattled. She told herself it was because this situation was particularly close to her heart. But it was more than that. She wanted to hate Robert as much as she hated what he did, and he was making that hard for her. He looked and acted too contrite to evoke the same level of anger she’d felt before.
Why, oh why, couldn’t people be easily categorized? Labeled “good” or “bad” and that was that? Instead, the lines constantly blurred, making life so complicated. It upset her that she could feel any empathy for Robert Ogilvie. Was he merely pretending to be humble and sincere? Was he playing her?
Possibly. She had to remember how little compassion he’d had when he committed those murders. “Thank you.”
He studied her for a moment. Then he said, “How much are we, um, talking?”
She went with the figure she’d decided upon while driving over. “A thousand dollars.”
His eyes widened. “That’s a lot of money. I don’t think I’ll need that much. A few hundred should
