Chapter 27: Gabby

GABBY

Three weeks had passed since Papa shot Chad, and it finally felt like things were getting back to normal. Due to my extenuating circumstances, I was granted an extension to finish my clinical hours. Patch assured me we would get my hours in, but, with the extension, we didn't have to rush. I had a feeling Gigi had something to do with my special treatment, but she wouldn't admit to anything. I thanked her anyway.

I also received a letter from the nursing board. I thought for sure it was the letter notifying me of the complaint against my license and the investigation they planned to launch. To my surprise, it was a letter telling me they were dismissing the case. I wasn't sure how that happened, but I called Tina and thanked her profusely.

The best part of those three weeks was getting the bandages removed from my hands. Since the fractures weren't complete, meaning the bones were cracked versus broken in half, they didn't take as long to heal. My hands were still sore and stiff, but I could use them to do things for myself. Things that I'd always taken for granted, like washing my hair and buttoning my jeans. I insisted on driving home from the doctor's office, much to Byte's dismay.

Once we were home, I assured him I would be fine by myself and shooed him away to do his thing at the clubhouse. Then I called Flint and asked him to come over.

"What's going on, Gabby?" he asked when he arrived.

"I need your help with something, but it might mean you have to keep something pretty significant to yourself depending on the outcome," I said.

He gave me a skeptical look. "I'm not sure about this."

"Let me explain," I said and gestured for him to have a seat on the sofa. "Well, let me ask you something first. What do you know about Byte's past?"

"More than I should," he said. "I overheard my dad talking about it."

I exhaled in relief. I wouldn't be breaking Byte's trust by talking to Flint since he already knew. "I want to know if Byte was ever a suspect. He never wanted to know, but I thought I could look for him and maybe give him a chance to have his life back."

"What if he was a suspect or is wanted for murder?" Flint asked.

"Then I'll never say a word about it."

"I don't know, Gabby. This is a slippery slope to go down," Flint said.

"I know, but I can't do it without you. I know Byte's been teaching you computer stuff. You're the only other person I could ask besides him. Well, the only other trustworthy person," I said. I knew I was asking a lot and wouldn't be upset if he said no, but I really hoped he'd say yes.

"I guess I could try," Flint said reluctantly.

"Great," I said excitedly. "What do you need to know?"

He snorted a laugh. "Pretty sure I already have that information. Blake Williams from Nebraska, right?"

"Right," I confirmed. "I don't know what his mother's name was, but I think the stepfather was named Glenn."

While Flint started searching, I got up and went to the kitchen to make us some coffee. When I returned to the living room, Flint turned the screen to show me a news article he found.

"Search continues for missing boy after parents found murdered in their home. It is unclear at this time if fourteen-year-old Blake Williams was kidnapped or murdered. Police are asking anyone with possible information regarding the case to contact them immediately," I read aloud.

Flint clicked to a different tab. "Here's another one."

"Gambling debt probable motive behind double homicide. Teenage son missing and likely in danger." I turned to Flint. "They think someone else did it. They think he was a victim."

"There's more," he said. "I saved the best one for last."

"Bookie Johnny Jenkins found guilty of murdering eight people who owed him money. The victims were," I read and skimmed over the names until I saw two that seemed pertinent. "Glenn Dodson and Sheila Williams." I couldn't believe what I was reading. "Someone else was convicted for murdering them?"

Flint nodded. "Yep. I found some other articles that say his prints were found inside the house. He denied killing them, but he also denied killing the other six people."

"Can you send me the links to those articles?"

Flint laughed. "Sure, but he'll be able to find them and more on his own once you tell him."

"Crap," I said. "Now, I have to tell him." I knew he'd be relieved in the end, but I wasn't sure how he would initially react.

"It'll be fine," Flint said. "Just tell him the main point, and don't beat around the bush."

"Thanks, Flint. I really appreciate your help."

"Yeah, about that. Maybe don't tell him I helped you," he said.

"I won't," I promised.

It was all I could do to contain myself after Flint left. I couldn't call Byte and ask him to come home without him thinking something was wrong, and I couldn't show up at the clubhouse without garnering the same response. Plus, neither one of us needed an audience to witness what could be a disastrous conversation. When he finally got home, I was ready to burst.

"How was the rest of your day?" I asked.

"Fine," he said and gave me an appraising look. "What's going on with you?"

"I have to tell you something, and I'm afraid you're going to be mad at me, but it's actually a good thing," I rambled.

"Just tell me," he said calmly.

"Johnny Jenkins was convicted of murdering your parents. They thought he kidnapped and killed you but couldn't prove it," I blurted. "I'm sorry I went behind your back, but I wanted you to know if it was good news."

"And what if it wasn't?" he asked.

"Then I wouldn't have told you," I said quietly.

"How did you find all this out?"

"Uh, Google," I lied.

"Google?" he asked, and I could tell he didn't believe me.

"I mean, that's where I started. I'm not sure how I got from point A to point B, but that's not important. Where's your laptop? You can see for yourself." I was nervous and doing a piss-poor job of explaining myself.

"Okay," he said with resignation and sat down with his computer. "I'll be damned," he muttered a few minutes later.

I wanted to say, "See? I told you so," but decided against it and sat quietly beside him while he read through the articles. I was dying to know what he was thinking, but there was no way I was going to ask. I'd wait until he was ready to tell me.

He spent a while longer clicking through pages and reading articles before he closed his laptop and got to his feet. "Shadow probably needs to go out," he said. I watched from the window as he took Shadow outside and tossed the ball for him.

When he came back inside, I was almost finished making dinner. I didn't know what to say, so I didn't say anything. And neither did he. We sat down to eat in silence. After the fifth or sixth bite, I couldn't take it anymore. "I'm sorry!" I blurted. "I shouldn't have done it."

Byte turned to me with a look of confusion on his face. "What?"

"I'm sorry for looking into your past. You've done so much for me, and I wanted to do something for you in return. I didn't know it would upset you this much. Please forgive me," I blabbered.

"I'm not mad at you," he said.

"You're not?"

"No," he said with a slight smile.

"Then why in the hell haven't you said a word to me since I told you?" I demanded. He might not have been mad, but suddenly I was.

"I haven't?" he asked.

"No! You said you were taking Shadow outside, and that was it."

"Oh," he said. "I guess I was lost in my thoughts. I didn't realize you thought I was mad at you."

"What was I supposed to think?" I asked.

"I don't mean this the way it might sound, but I wasn't really thinking about you," he admitted. "You dropped a major bombshell on me, and I needed to process it."

"Have you done that?"

"What?"

"Processed it," I said and tried to hide my exasperation.

"Yeah, I think so. I mean, it's good to know I don't have anything to worry about, but it doesn't change anything. It's not like I can suddenly start living as Blake Williams again."

"Why not?" I asked, slightly disappointed. One of the main reasons I wanted to find out about his past was so he didn't have to hide his true identity anymore.

"How will I explain where I was if someone asks? Or how there's no trace of my existence for almost two decades?"

"Who's going to ask?"

"The police department in my hometown. I was, or am, a missing person. I'm sure they have something set up to alert them if I resurface," he explained.

"I just wanted you to have your name back," I said.

"It's just a name," he said. "It doesn't change who I am."

"No, it doesn't," I agreed.

"Thank you," he said quietly. "I never would've looked into it on my own. Even though it doesn't really change anything for me, it's nice to know I don't have anything to worry about."

I exhaled in relief. That's why I did it. To give him some of the peace he'd given me.