Beneath Blackwater River by Leslie Wolfe (love story books to read txt) 📕

meningitis, didn’t she?” She drilled her fiery eyes into Bill’s, who withstood her scrutiny unfazed. “It was that trip to the Mayo Clinic, wasn’t it? That’s when you brought back the housekeeper’s daughter and had me—us—take her in as our own blood!” Without warning, she slapped Bill across the face, hard, her bony fingers leaving a red mark on his cheek. “You’re no son of mine.”

Bill’s smile turned into a grin. “Oh, but I am, Mother. I am exactly what you made me, your flesh and blood and guts and evil. And Rose was my daughter, whether you like it or not.”

Kay watched the interaction, occasionally exchanging glances with Elliot as their questions were answered. She still didn’t understand the reason why Bill had replaced Alyssa with Rose; what could possibly have motivated him? It wasn’t just the logistics of nabbing a girl and having an entire household accept her as another, although that, in itself, must’ve been a tremendous feat. But controlling his own grief, all that time?

Unless…

Kay studied the man again, as if she saw him for the first time, her head slightly tilted. Elliot stared at her with unspoken questions, but she didn’t take her focus off Bill Caldwell.

Could he be a high-functioning psychopath? That would explain the absence of fear or remorse, of any hint of a conscience when he talked about a kidnapping that had cost Rose’s parents their lives. A psychopath’s motivations are exactly that… his and only his, no other minds as twisted and as feral to fully understand that thinking. Had he done all that to gain control over the business? Carole had set that ridiculous rule in place, heritage passing as royal blood rights. In her own way, she’d been to blame just as much.

But Bill’s motives seemed to go beyond financial; there was a component of emotion there, of raw feelings that were stirred up when the right words were thrown around during the heated dialogue. There was intense resentment between mother and son, going both ways and equally lethal, although Kay had noticed that Carole’s acrimony seemed tinted with deep-seated disgust, while Bill’s anger seemed fueled by grief. The way his eyes darkened when he confronted his mother, the way he tensed up, pressing his lips into a hard line, as if to keep his words locked inside his chest, the mercurial way his sadness shifted into outbursts of fierce rage, only to simmer and turn inward again, colored in shades of endless sorrow.

He’d just lost his daughter to a violent crime; that, in itself, was enough reason to grieve. Even psychopaths love their children, albeit in their own way, possessively instead of empathically. But the sadness exhibited by Bill seemed to predate his daughter’s demise, visibly engrained into the fiber of him, almost like a second nature. The way the family responded to his rage was evidence to that; to them, it was old news. Whatever Bill was grieving for, they all knew what that was, and they were all tight-lipped about it, the secret so terrifying that one look from Carole or from Blanche tamed Bill’s rage like water drowns a fire.

But had Bill killed Rose? And what reason could he possibly have had to replace one girl with the other? There had to have been different ways to secure his hold on the family business, easier ways, legal ways.

Kay approached Bill and put a firm hand on his forearm. “We’ll have to take you in, Mr. Caldwell.”

“For what?” he replied, no hint of fear in his eyes, just curiosity, as if wondering where, in his well-conceived plans, he had gone wrong.

“The kidnapping charge might be out of statute, but there’s no statute of limitations in the state of California for rape.”

His jaw dropped. “What?”

There was no reason to tell Bill about Martha and her statement; he’d only push back, claim it was hearsay. And so on. Better to cut to the chase and bluff her way into a confession.

“Shelley Harrelson testified that you raped her eighteen years ago. Your daughter, Rose, was a child of rape.”

Elliot glanced at her quickly, aware she was lying, but she was well within her rights to do so during a suspect’s questioning.

Carole, who moments before would’ve ripped Bill’s head off with her well-manicured hands, approached and stood by his side, grabbing his other arm. “Not another word, Bill. Not until the lawyers get here. I’ll get you out of this mess. It’s nothing but a fishing expedition. Cops do that to rich people all the time,” she added, glaring at Kay for a long, loaded moment.

Her son didn’t reply. His face was carved in stone, expressionless, devoid of fear or any other emotion except that tinge of grief that engulfed him like a halo.

“Fair enough,” Kay replied, letting go of Bill’s arm. “We can wait here for your attorney before we take you in.”

“Don’t care either way,” he said, his voice flat, his stare vacant.

“Just out of curiosity,” Kay said, “and you can answer that before your lawyer gets here, because it pertains to the kidnapping and that’s no longer a chargeable offense… Why? Why did you replace Alyssa with Rose? It must’ve been hell for you, to hide your grief, to fear you would be caught if anyone noticed the girl was different.”

In reaction to her violation of Bill’s rights, Kay earned a stunned glance from Elliot. She continued to interrogate him after he’d specifically requested an attorney present. Although, she realized with a hint of a smile, he hadn’t asked for an attorney; his mother had. And her demands were irrelevant under the law. Regardless, she wasn’t going to stop looking for answers just because that old and pretentious harpy didn’t want her family secrets uncovered.

Bill lowered his gaze for a brief moment, then looked at Kay openly, as if he had nothing to hide. That brief moment he’d looked away, that was enough for a psychopath to enter into character, to ready his mind and his body