Chapter 72

72

Heather wasn't stupid. They weren't going to like what Daniel said next. None of them were. And she knew that man most certainly wanted something. It was hard to miss.

Daniel McKellen usually did. And whatever it was, Gunnar was in the know. And it upset that beautiful man.

A great deal.

Gunnar was one of those people who had an extremely high level of empathy. He hurt when other people, especially people he cared about, were hurting.

Her family came back in, the kids running in front of them. Maris had a slightly frazzled look on her beautiful face, but her teenage niece was really good at handling the younger kids. Joy and Eden settled the kids in the side parlor to watch a movie Heather had found in her in-box a few days ago. It wasn't even released yet, and there had been a special note from Quade in the email saying it was for the kids to watch. He had a small role in it too. And had helped Hunter Louis Clark write a portion of it.

He'd emailed to check up on her that morning too. Of all her grown nephews, that boy was the one nephew she was going to keep.

It should be enough of a distraction for the older kids. Maybe even the preschoolers. Joy left the French doors to the parlor open where they could hear if the kids needed anything. Frankie had been clingy since Heather had made it home.

Heather barely resisted clinging to her little girl too. She had been so afraid she would never get back to her babies. Her hands shook as she remembered.

Miguel was back with a freshly changed Emilia Rose. Emilia had that little hat on again. She loved that hat. Someone had fixed her hair in pigtails too, what was there of it.

There were tiny overalls on that baby. Miguel's kids liked dressing Emilia in wild outfits. They loved to make her look like Hope now. It was so cute.

The tension when everyone settled back down was real. Powell's father had left earlier to go check on his wife. But everyone else was still there.

Daniel McKellen was waiting impatiently. That man needed to learn to prioritize better.

Family first. No matter what. Heather checked on Ember again. Mac was still holding Heather's baby girl, sitting right there at Heather's feet now. So close she could feel the man's heat. Like he was a living wall—between her and McKellen.

It felt weird to have Powell's brother so close.

No denying that.

Especially after what she had said to him. She remembered part of it. Not all. She couldn't remember it all, but she remembered enough to know things wouldn't be the same between her and Mac Barratt ever again.

Apparently, Heather didn't have any filters when in a state of shock. Imagine that.

She still hadn't processed anything that had happened. Heather was making sure that didn't show. Making it look like she was okay, at least. She knew how to act, how to put on a front. She'd been doing it for years, after all.

"Okay, I want to go back to sleep," Heather said to the room at large. "It's time to get down to the nitty-gritty. What else did you find on my clothes?"

"He spit on you," Daniel said.

"Yes. He did. No, I don't know who he was. Do you?" She heard the challenge in her tone, but Heather didn't care. She was so tired of backing down from men at the TSP. So tired.

And Daniel McKellen was so TSP in everything he did. She did not want that man lounging around her living room right there next to her family. Learning about her family, their strengths, weaknesses. She just didn't.

"We think that maybe we do," Gunnar said.

"There was a full match between the sample taken from your jeans and one of the other known samples. Enough to say the man who spit on you was the biological father of that other sample. And, well, three other samples taken from the sweatshirt. We're just…looking for names and information," Daniel told her.

"What?" Her head still hurt; the damned man just wasn't making much sense.

"The man who spit on you was the father of four of the samples found on your sweatshirt," Gunnar said. "No sense dancing around it. The man who spit on you is Samia's biological father."

"What? Timothy ?" Bonnie almost shouted, then deflated. "Timothy did this? But…that doesn't make any sense."

Heather thought about those moments in that dark closet. With that man leaning over her, grabbing her, hitting her. She hadn't seen her brother-in-law in… "It has been so long since I saw him. I think it could have been him. That man was just as tall as Timothy, I think. And he sounded so familiar. And…he was angry with the younger one."

"He was very angry that that one kicked you so hard. Furious. It felt really weird to me that he made that one stop kicking you after he hit you so hard himself—" Powell's breath caught. Heather just knew. Powell was going to crack again at any moment. Heather forced her hand to remain steady as she wrapped her fingers around the younger woman's. Powell thought she hid it—but she was sensitive inside. Like most of Heather's nieces, always trying to appear so tough, so strong. When they really just weren't.

"I don't really remember that part. Since my bell was still ringing and everything." Heather forced herself to make a joke of it. So her family wouldn't look at her with the fear in their faces again. She knew they were worried. Afraid she was going to crack.

"We never really got a good look at that man's face. Not his—the older man," Powell said. "He just came in, argued with the other man, then just hit Heather and left. Hiding behind his phone light. He hit Heather, but he didn't want the younger man kicking her. I never got a good look at him at all. But you said four. Samia's DNA, who were the rest?"

"One sample came back as the full sister of Samia. We had Samia's DNA from that open assault case back in November. Her full sister's DNA was almost as prevalent as Heather's," Daniel said.

"It was Summer's sweatshirt," Heather said, wincing. "I'd borrowed it."

"Probably hers, then. One of the male samples found on the sweatshirt came back to Samia's half brother, it looks like," Haldyn said, flipping through papers.

"We have a half brother," Eden said quietly. She'd paled. Looked sick. Heather understood how she felt. "He's four years older than Heather and Joy. We just haven't seen him in eighteen years. And never really wanted to. We all hated him; we were a little afraid of him too."

"No kidding," Joy said. Heather alone knew why Joy felt that way.

"His name is Trey. Timothy the third." Bonnie said quietly. "He is Timothy's from a previous relationship. Angela loved him, treated him like he was her son. She wanted him to live with them. But his mother made things very difficult for her and Timothy and Trey."

"How many samples were found on Heather's shirt that weren't Colesons or Barratts?" Hope asked, looking at Haldyn. "Do you know?"

"There were a total of forty-two samples found on the shirt that weren't Colesons or Barratts," Haldyn said quietly. "They came back to eight individuals."

"Okay, so…Timothy, his son, Samia, and probably Summer's DNA were found on that sweatshirt since Summer owned the shirt. But there is a fourth that matches Timothy as well? That would probably be Eddie, right?" Heather asked. "And that is definitely Samia's DNA?"

"A female sample, yes. That matched the same father as Samia. Saliva and a few touch samples," Haldyn said, looking at the printout in her hand. "And this is an awkward question, but are Eden and Samia possibly half sisters?"

"No. Definitely not. They are both Timothy's daughters," Bonnie said firmly. "As is Summer. Angela didn't cheat. "

"I should have added paternal. This sample is definitely Samia's paternal half sister. There should also be a trace report, with it, it looks like," Haldyn said. She looked down at the paperwork again. "It is conclusive. Half sisters. Through their father."

"So…a family affair. And we have at least one more sister out there," Summer said quietly.

Heather checked her niece's face. Summer had had nightmares as a kid. After Timothy had just left them that day. She'd loved her father—and then he had just been gone. Heather had always felt guilty for that.

"And that sister hurt Heather?" Eden asked.

"There wasn't a woman there." Heather was sure of that. "Who are the other samples from?"

"That's where things also get complicated. There are Samia's father, his son, his other daughter, and five others. Two of those samples match the bodies found this morning." Daniel looked right at Heather. "In the rubble of the fire."

Heather knew what bodies he meant. She would never forget those men's faces. Forget what they had done to her. Or what she had done to survive. "The two men I killed while I was escaping."

She heard the indrawn breaths of the people around her. Her family, each one of them so infinitely precious. Heather's eyes met Zoey's. She saw the understanding there. She had done what she had to do—just like Zoey had done with Eastman. "I'm not going to lie about it. Or sugarcoat it. There was a nasty bastard with a scar. I killed him first. And the other…I didn't know if he was dead or not; I wasn't sticking around to find out. He was down when I climbed out the window, and that was all that mattered."

"The preliminary report showed soot in his lungs. It was most likely smoke inhalation," Gunnar said. "He was probably just unconscious when you escaped, and his friends left him behind. The fire probably was burning more than they expected at that point."

"Then he was alive when I went out the window?"

Daniel just nodded.

"So I didn't kill him, then."

"No."

"But he is still dead." Heather's words were completely flat. She would never forget. Ever.

"Yes. He's dead," Gunnar said.

"Does the TSP know who the men were?" Hope asked. She'd gotten up, came to sit right next to Heather again. Like she always did when she was upset or scared. It was a subconscious thing for Hope. Heather knew that.

Heather slipped her arm around Hope, ignoring the pain in her ribs.

Heather had been taking care of her baby sister forever. She wasn't going to change that now.

Daniel nodded. He looked at Bonnie—and at Zoey next to her. "One of the men was a local thug who we were looking for in conjunction with the ambush at FCU that day. His DNA was also found in Zoey's home in Garrity. The man with a scar. His name was Spencer Mills."

"Scarface was one of the men who took Pen and Zoey?" Heather asked, just to confirm. "He was just a paid goon, then, guys. He was making noises with the guy in charge, not Timothy, about wanting his money really soon. Or else he was going to tell his boss or something. The guy just taunted him in response."

"Pen heard the men who took her that day talking about getting money for it," Zoey said. Heather saw the anger and hurt in her niece's face. The memories. "She said one had a scar. She saw it."

"It ran along his jawline," Heather said. "From here to here." She brushed a hand against her left cheek. She would never forget.

McKellen held out his phone. With an ID photo on it. Heather looked. It was him. The scar was distinctive.

Bonnie just gasped and closed her eyes after she looked at the screen and nodded. "He was definitely…there. With…with Dr. Eastman." Bonnie held a hand up to keep McKellen's phone out of Crispin's reach next.

"No. Crispin doesn't need to look at that bastard ever again. Bonnie and I are enough," Zoey said and shifted in front of Crispin instead. Protectively. Then she looked away. At her husband. "I'll never forget him. He was there that day. I'll never forget him staring at me in that damned basement. The way he…looked at me."

"He's dead now, Zoey," Heather told her. She didn't want Zoey to be afraid any longer. She just didn't. "Make sure Penelope knows too. He can't hurt you girls ever again. Any of you. Not now."

Zoey nodded again. Murdoch pulled her closer. He kissed Zoey's temple and just held her. Heather loved the way he loved her niece. She wanted that kind of love for all of her nieces, her nephews, and her sisters too.

"Well, he was a vile, horrible man," Powell said suddenly. Heather would never forget what that bastard had threatened to do to Powell either.

"I don't regret killing him," Heather said, just putting it out there. Especially seeing the hurt on Bonnie's face, on Crispin's and Zoey's. That man had hurt her, had hurt Powell. No. She didn't regret it. "Especially now that I know…Eastman. So, we have Timothy, probably Trey, a hired thug named Spencer, and the other man?"

"A truck driver out of Wyoming actually. Bryce Spires. No priors anywhere. Charlie is still running the investigation into him and is talking to the boys and girls in Wyoming about that now," Gunnar told her. "Charlie was already headed up there to check on Charlotte. She is on her way down here now, and Charlie went to get her."

"What about the fourth sample from Timothy's line, so to speak? What was the trace?" Hope asked after a moment. Hope ran a lot of the trace samples with the lab. She was an expert in it. And Heather's sister was very, very good.

Haldyn checked the file. "Oatmeal, wheat flour, coconut proteins, turmeric, flax seed, cinnamon, cloves, carrot and apple and cranberry residue?—"

"Cranberries, wheat flour, nondairy butter I make myself from coconut oil and a pinch of turmeric, flax seed, pureed carrots, applesauce, pumpkin pie spice mix I make myself, and leavening," Summer said. "That's my basic oatmeal cookie recipe around this place. I don't do a lot of chocolate or dairy; too many of us are allergic to it here."

"Summer had just made a batch of the cookies that morning," Heather said. She was stumped by this one. How… "How did Summer's cookies get mixed in with DNA from…Timothy? I mean, cranberry cookies aren't that rare—but made with pureed carrots and homemade vegan butter? That's kind of distinctive, considering."

"Timothy's daughter. It is conclusive. That sample came from the biological daughter of the man who spit on you—and fathered Samia," Haldyn said. "The sample was on your left shoulder, smeared along the seam of the shirt. Mixed with saliva and a large quantity of cow's milk."

Heather closed her eyes, tried to think. Who had… "The cookies were still warm from the oven. Frankie had just had a couple of cookies, and Iagan, so did all of Joy's kids. Raine and Jago too. The kids had all been excited, waiting for the cookies like they always do. There were little kids wanting cookies everywhere, sitting on every lap they could find. Barely waiting for them to cool. Even Meg and Crispin had been into the cookies, and it made me smile. I remembered when they were that little—and I was teaching Summer to bake those cookies in the first place."

"There was cookie trace found in Frankie's sample too. The same exact trace, only coconut milk instead of dairy. Frankie is allergic to dairy," Hope said. "But this trace sample isn't related to Heather. Just…Samia and Timothy, conclusively."

Heather opened her eyes as it clicked. "The baby. Cranberry cookies. And dairy milk."

She looked at the man who could…confirm.

Miguel's face hardened right in front of her. His eyes met hers. He knew exactly what Heather was thinking now. "Fresh baked cranberry-oatmeal cookies that the kids all loved. And you held her on your left hip. For just a moment. Long enough to kiss her and for her to…"

"Wipe her mouth on my shoulder. She was cutting a tooth too. Slobbering all over me. And I didn't have time to do more than wipe the sweatshirt with a damp paper towel before I left, and what did it matter, anyway? I was used to being a human napkin for babies and kids since Frankie had just wiped her mouth on my sleeve a few seconds before." It was too much. Too coincidental.

Too just wrong .

But she knew with one look into Miguel's beautiful face. Heather couldn't look away.

"An older doctor out of Wichita Falls. Connected to OPJ. She died from a heart attack after being addicted to that damned OPJ." Miguel finished her thought. "Odd sort of coincidence, isn't it?"

"Sudden, intense questions from IA about what you knew about it back then. What I knew. Questions we both agreed felt more than just a little off . Me, being put into third-shift IA right after. Almost immediately after. Pulled off my last drug case right in the middle of it and shoved into a night shift desk job. Just as things were heating up. A case eerily like our last with ARTT. Just a few days," Heather's mind was connecting the dots far too fast. "Steve showing back up again after not seeing him for…months. When I had almost believed I was finally safe from him. They weren't looking for answers about OPJ back then, Mig."

"They weren't. Not legit anyway." Miguel's expression, his tone were flat. As he was putting it together too.

"And if someone was —back then it would have been Gunnar coming around, asking about OPJ. Not Wichita Falls IA. That's what I saw on the case files in Wyoming going back that far. Gunnar's name was listed as the sole investigating detective back then. Out of Finley Creek. It would have been Gun asking those questions. No one else would have had any information about that case back then. They were just looking for what you or I might have already learned about their operation, that was all. Including Steve. "

"But we didn't know anything about their operation then ," Miguel said. "Hell, I think we may have been about to stumble right into it. I certainly would have pushed if I knew. If I hadn't just inherited a newborn out of nowhere?—"

"Steve attacked me—and Hope—within a week after. And they did what they had to do to ensure we didn't learn a thing. Or at least, that I didn't anyway. Not after that case where I first met that son-of-a-bitch to begin with. That drug case that we never solved...What if I never found the answers because he was there to hide them in the first place?" Heather's mind kept making the connections. It had all been a massive…plot. That was what it was. But those bastards had been playing with people's lives. "The one I was working on when he…attacked me and Hope. It was so much like that final one we worked together, and like the one Steve and his partner and I were working on when I first met him. The cases were connected. Why didn't I see it before?"

"Because he kept hurting you," Miguel said so slowly she could almost see the fury building. "To keep you out of the way."

"Every time. Maybe because I was getting close to whatever it was he didn't want me to find." Connections were falling into place now. They'd been played back then. Four years and fifteen months ago. Used. He'd hurt her just to manipulate her. That was all.

Using violence and sex as the weapon of choice. Because he'd gotten off on that control—literally. Heather fought throwing up.

"Melvin Stillman's involved then. Somehow. We'll just need to prove it. Him and his pals," Miguel said. "That bastard."

She heard the anger in his tone. Because she knew him well enough, but Miguel was good at hiding it. Until she looked at his beautiful eyes. Knowledge was there.

"Heather, who did that sample come from?" Haldyn asked quietly. The room had gotten quiet while Heather and Miguel were talking it out. As they waited.

"That sample came from…" Miguel pulled in a breath. " My daughter. Not his. "

Hope started shaking next to her. Heather wrapped her around even tighter around her baby sister.

"Emilia Rose." Heather looked at that sweet baby girl right there in Miguel's arms. With her little dark pink hat—just like Hope's, with HHC in bold chartreuse letters—and pale denim overalls that matched the ones Hope wore at that very moment almost exactly. As pieces started to fall into place. "That sample is Emilia. I held her and handed her over to Crispin, but it was too late. Emilia had already wiped her mouth off on my shoulder."

"We need a DNA sample from the baby for reference," McKellen said, looking at Miguel. Like Commander Butthead didn't understand what he was asking for. That sample would change everything for Miguel. Everything. He was asking Miguel to voluntarily prove he wasn't that baby's father—changing Miguel's whole world forever.

McKellen just didn't get it. The asshole. The idiot.

"No. You don't. You aren't getting a sample from that baby, Daniel. You just are not. Don't even ask for one again."