Repentance (The Darkness Series Book 4) Page 2

  He moved forward a few feet and stepped over the threshold between his cell and the narrow hallway. Glancing over his shoulder, he gave a quick nod to his cellmate—the only farewell needed between them—and then met the eyes of the guard.

  “No. No, I don’t want to move on with my life at all; but we all have to play the cards we’re dealt. And for me...it’s time that I see where the chips lie.” The guard rolled his eyes and shoved him between his shoulder blades to get him moving.

  “It’s time to make amends,” Sam spoke quietly under his breath as the cell doors swung closed once again, the resounding clatter sealing his fate as a free man.

  Not some twenty minutes later, after filling out some paperwork and changing his clothes, he was walking down the gravel pathway away from the State Penitentiary that had been his home for the past seven years. Any other inmate likely would have been overjoyed at being granted early parole, but for Sam being set free was just another sentence. Being forced back into society, into a life that he’d single-handedly destroyed was like trying to swallow a large lump of coal, no matter how hard he tried to choke it down; it just refused to fucking budge. He could try to deny it all he wanted but the fact remained that he’d walked alongside the dregs of humanity. Traded his soul for a black mask of mayhem. Aligned with malevolence and trudged through the darkest parts of despair. All in the name of justice; revenge. Now that he’d emerged into the light—was there anything left of him to salvage?

  “Hey, buddy, you getting in or what?” Blinking, Sam stared at the cab driver who was currently glowering at him. The passenger side window was partially rolled down, allowing him a view of the balding, heavy set man behind the wheel.

  Sam opened the door and climbed in the back, setting his oversized zip-lock bag of belongings on the gray leather seat. To think that after seven years all he had to show was in that sheer plastic bag, sent a desolate feeling washing over him. How far he’d fallen from the life he’d once mapped out with his beloved wife, Hailey. Even just thinking her name had his heart constricting in pain; the physical ache he felt over the loss of her never left him. He carried it with him daily.

  “I love you with everything that I am. With every minuscule part of my soul, you are my match. My soulmate, my one true love. I’m going to think of you every day. I will make sure your name lives on, Hailey love.”

  He stood and walked over to large pile of earth, taking a small handful. Sprinkling it over her coffin, he made her one last promise.

  “I will avenge you.”

  It had taken him two years, but he’d made good on the promise that he made at Hailey’s grave the day they laid her to rest. He’d infiltrated Mila’s inner circle and had the dark, twisted pleasure of being the one to end her miserable life. The depths he’d had to sink to in order to fulfill his mission disgusted him, but he wouldn’t change it or take any of it back. Mila Stevenson was the devil incarnate, the world was better off without her and he’d never regret being the one to assassinate her.

  No, he wasn’t the least bit fucking sorry that he’d killed the woman that was responsible for the murder of his wife. Hailey Ridley…she’d been like a firecracker. A force to be reckoned with. They’d been high school sweethearts and had married almost immediately after they’d graduated. He used to count himself lucky every day that she even looked twice at him; their love story was an unorthodox one—she was the prettiest girl in school, he was the classic nerd. Their life had been far from perfect, they had ups and downs just like everyone else. But through it all, they stayed committed to each other; to the love that they shared. When she’d died, he’d died with her. The Sam Ridley that had been her soulmate had ceased to exist.

  One of the hardest pills to swallow was the fact that that they’d been trying desperately to start a family. Months after her death, he found out that she had in fact been pregnant. It was obvious his boss and best friend at the time, Sheriff Brady James, had hidden that truth from him in an effort to spare him any more pain. It’d had the reverse effect on him, sending him in a maddening fit of rage. He could only hope and pray that Hailey hadn’t been aware of that fact since the pregnancy was so early.

  Now, nine years later he was left with trying to build some semblance of a life for himself in the aftermath of what he’d done; what Mila had done. The only reason he was granted early release was that he’d technically been working undercover for the Florida police department while he gathered intelligence on Mila. Disobeying orders and playing his part too perfectly is what had led to him being charged, and later convicted, as an accessory in Mila and Bennett’s crimes. The look of revulsion in Brady’s eyes when he realized the extent of just how far Sam’s involvement went is one that would never fade from his memory. Every victim that fell at either Mila’s instruction or her hand was blood on his hands as well. The day they’d let the doors swing shut on his steel cell was the day that he’d lost the last parts of him that made him Sam Ridley. Now, he had no choice but to see if there was any chance of getting back a small piece of that lost man.

  The car rolled to a stop in front of a brown brick building and the cabbie turned to look at him expectantly.

  “Well, this is it, buddy. It said on the manifest this was your destination. Durham Heights Sheriff’s Department. So, that’ll be $37.42. Plus tip,” he added.

  Sam nodded and absent-mindedly handed him a few bills. “Keep the change,” he told him as he got out of the car. He stared at the building, the place that used to mean so much to him. Being a deputy used to bring him a sense of pride; now it seemed as though that life belonged in another time, to someone else.

  Taking a deep breath, he closed the gap between him and the department and pulled open the main door. It was time to face his former best friend.

  SHERIFF BRADY JAMES took a long sip of his coffee before setting the mug down on his large oak desk. “Dad, I’m bored,” Dane whined. Brady glanced at his nine year-old son and sighed. The kids had a day off from school and in an effort to give Gwyn a bit of a break from having to deal with Dane and their two year-old daughter, Tenley, he’d brought Dane into the office with him for the day. A decision he was currently regretting as he was driving him slowly crazy with his constant complaining.

  “You said we could go for a ride in the cruiser, I want to see a crime scene. You promised,” Dane accused, crossing his arms across his chest in a full-on pout. It was moments like this one that it was so easy to see his mother in him. The complaining and pouting to get his way was one of Mila’s trademarks and it had been passed down to her son flawlessly. Finding out that he was not in fact Dane’s biological father changed nothing for Brady. When all the horror of what Mila had done came to light all those years ago, her child being a part of her deception, Brady had secretly hoped that Dane was his. Their looks were so similar and the timing was such that it was quite possible that he could have been Dane’s father.

  After Mila died, he and Gwyn had taken Dane in and he’d finally got the paternity test he’d been promised. The truth had crushed him, but it didn’t stop his firm belief that Dane needed a family more than any child. Gwyn being Gwyn, was behind him one hundred percent and together they went through the lengthy process of adopting him legally.

  “After lunch, son. I have a few reports to work on this morning and some follow-up phone calls to make. Tell you what, why don’t you take that camera there,” he nodded in the direction of the station’s professional Canon hanging from the strap on the back of a chair, “and take some snapshots of the pen. Could get some great ones for your scrapbook,” he suggested.

  A flash of anger splayed across Dane’s face. “It’s a portfolio. And I’m over photography. This sucks. You should have let me stay home to play video games like I wanted to,” he snapped.

  His tone raised Brady’s own temper and he had to take a few moments to ensure he didn’t snap back at him. Dane’s anger issues were becoming more and more prominent the older he got, a fact that worried Gwyn on
a regular basis. Lately, she’d been pushing Brady to consider getting him some sort of counselling, but so far he’d been able to put it off. But with Dane’s behavior, he might not be able to convince himself for very much longer that he didn’t need to speak to someone.

  “Dane—” he cut off when a hard knock sounded on his office door and the handle turned. Looking up, he hid his shock when Sam Ridley entered and then stopped, standing awkwardly in the doorway as his eyes darted between him and Dane.

  “Uh, sorry. I can come back if you’re occupied,” he eyed Dane curiously for a few seconds, his eyes widening when he finally recognized him. Dane too was sizing Sam up and Brady wondered if he had any memories of him from the time they all spent together.

  “No, it’s fine. Come in, Sam.” Brady picked up a roll of crime scene tape and walked over to his son. “Dane, I need to talk to Mr. Ridley privately. Why don’t you go practice setting up the crime scene tape like we’ve talked about. Interview Room A should be free.” Dane had a fascination with the law and all the ins and outs of it. It was Brady’s hope that in the future he’d join the department and one day take over for him as Sheriff. A sense of pride filled him as he once again entertained the idea of working alongside his son.

  Dane’s eyes lit up as he grabbed the tape. “Sure, Dad! Thanks,” his attitude completely changed, his excitement evident as he dashed out the door.

  Strained silence filled the air as the two men faced each other. A lifetime of ghosts, disappointments, sadness and resentment flowed between them. Sam had to fight hard to push down the irrational anger he still felt towards Brady that he’d gotten his happy ending while Sam had lost everything. Logically, he knew Hailey’s death was not on Brady’s head, but it didn’t stop the bitterness he felt towards him from rearing its ugly head more than he’d like.

  “So you’re out. I heard that they were considering you for early parole. I’m happy it worked out for you, man,” Brady said and he meant it. He may not agree even in the slightest with Sam’s actions when it came to his involvement with Mila; but there was a part of him that couldn’t fault him for what he’d done. He’d come so close to losing Gwyn not once, but twice. Had that happened, he didn’t know how he would have reacted, what his actions would have been. She was the center of his universe; his true love. Brady knew better than anyone that Hailey was the same for Sam. He’d loved her more than anything and losing her the way he did had ripped a hole in him.

  “Yeah, just got out this morning. Feels a bit surreal, to be honest.” Sam closed the door and took a seat in one of the chairs facing Brady’s desk. In the past, he would have greeted his friend with a fist bump and a lame joke; but those days had passed, leaving them with uncomfortable silences and strained exchanges.

  “I can only imagine,” Brady sat in his chair and took off his hat, running his hands through his hair; his telltale nervous habit. The surprise at seeing Sam had passed a little and now he was left feeling curious about why he’d shown up at his door. Not one to beat around the bush, he cut right to the chase. “Sam, it’s not that I’m not happy for you—I am. But I have to ask, what are you doing here?”

  Sam rubbed his sweaty palms on the knees of the no-name jeans the jail had given him to change into. Pushing to his feet, he paced a few feet away, coming to a stop in front of a tall shelf housing forensic crime texts and several other books on investigative questioning. Spotting a silver edged frame, he picked it up and studied the photograph. He angled his body back to Brady, the photo still in his hand.

  “So you guys finally tied the knot, huh?” he asked, motioning to the image of a smiling Gwyn in a flowing white dress with flowers in her hair while a beaming Brady stared down at her with love.

  “Yeah, we did. Not long after…” Brady cleared his throat. “Well, it’s been almost seven years now. She forced me into wearing that damn suit. Most uncomfortable day of my life,” he joked, trying to lighten the tension in the room.

  Sam cracked a smile. “I remember being forced into the same thing, man. I complained bitterly about the injustice of it to Hailey, it really wasn’t all that fair that she got to choose a dress that was comfortable and made her look like a goddess and yet I was forced into a pair of dress pants that nearly castrated me and strapped into a tie that damn near choked me every time I breathed.” The two former friends shared a laugh at their similar experiences. For a moment, it felt as though nothing had changed between them; the past disappeared for a few beats and they were just two friends exchanging complaints about their women.

  As fast as the mood changed, it flipped back. Sam didn’t have any more tales to share of him and Hailey. She was dead. Gone. No longer would she be forcing him into any kind of a suit as she was no longer around to crack the whip like she used to.

  Brady sensed the shift as well and hurried to change the subject. “We have a daughter. She’s two and quite the fucking handful if you ask me,” Brady laughed. He picked up another framed photo from his desk and brought it over to Sam. It was of the four of them; Gwyn was tucked into Brady’s side, a blonde curly-haired little girl in her arms. Dane stood between them and although he was smiling; Sam thought there was something forced about his expression. They made a striking family, despite something being off about Dane; they still put off an air of happiness.

  “Her name is Tenley Anne,” Brady said softly. Sam’s head snapped up at the sound of Hailey’s middle name. “We both loved Hailey, man.” He brought his hand up to rest on Sam’s shoulder. “It was important to us that a piece of her live on in our family.”

  Sam’s throat started to close, his voice coming out thick with emotion. “She loved the both of you. This would make her really happy. Although, she’s probably looking down at you giving you shit for not naming the baby Hailey.” Sam offered a small smile and handed both frames back to Brady.

  “Look, Brady, I can see you’re freaking the fuck out thinking I’m going to ask you for a job or some shit. I’m not. Durham Heights isn’t my home anymore and it hasn’t been since the day I lost Hailey. I wanted to come by and let you know I’m out, simply out of respect for the friendship we once shared. And,” Sam blew out a breath. “I’m sorry, man. I’m sorry for putting you in the position that you had to arrest me and testify. I should have let you in on my plans from the beginning but my cause was too important for me to risk it.”

  Brady nodded. It was true that any kind of future friendship for the two of them was out of the question given what had transpired, but that didn’t mean that he wished any ill will on Sam. In fact, it was just the opposite—he truly hoped he’d finally be able to find some peace in the aftermath of the hell they’d all lived through.

  “I appreciate that. I’m glad that you’re getting a second chance, Sam. Gwyn will be happy to hear it as well. What’s your next steps?” he asked.

  “I’m heading to Tennessee. Roseburn…I was able to secure a carpentry business there. Guess the owner was looking for some sort of a change. Gave me a great deal on the name and the business is right on his property. I’m taking over the whole lot,” he answered. His dad had played a huge role in securing this new venture for him; had even fronted him the money he needed to legally buy the business name and transfer it all into his name.

  “I guess all those hours he made you help out with his business are going to work in your favor then. This is good, Sam. I think having a solid plan is the best start for you moving forward. For what it’s worth, I know Hailey would be pleased to see you doing something like this.” Brady held out his hand and after staring at it for a long moment, Sam accepted it, clasping Brady’s upper arm in a firm grasp. They’d once been like brothers; but each man was intuitive enough to know that this was the last time they’d see each other. They didn’t fit in each other’s worlds any longer. One man on the straight and narrow; the other walking in the dark gray of the shadows, trying to find his way back into the light. Nostalgia filled Sam and for a fleeting moment, he wished he’d made different ch
oices that day Mila had showed up at his beach house; maybe things didn’t have to end the way they did for any of them.

  Shaking his head, the moment passed. There was no going back, what was done was done and each of them needed to keep moving in the direction their lives were taking them. For Sam, it was time to say goodbye to his life in Durham Heights—and that included his friendship with Sheriff Brady James.

  “You take care, Brady. Give that sweet Gwyn a kiss for me,” he offered a genuine smile. Despite the fact anger and jealousy ruled his feelings when he thought of the perfect life that Brady and Gwyn had; he truly did wish them the best. No one should have to endure the pain of losing the person they loved the way he did and deep down under all the resentment, he was happy they weren’t suffering like him.

  “You too, man. Good luck in Roseburn.” Brady watched Sam move away and open his office door. “Sam, wait.” Sam turned back, his brows knitted together. “Don’t be afraid to open yourself up again. You deserve some sort of happiness as well. You aren’t heartless, no matter what you might think.” His observation was a bulls-eye, but Sam would have expected no less from Brady.

  “Just think about it is all I’m saying. Don’t be closed off to the idea of love again. If the opportunity arises, take it. Hailey would want that for you.” Brady offered the only advice he could, he just hoped it would be enough to show Sam that there was still a chance for him. Sam left without another word, closing the door on his lost future.

  Six Months Later

  EMMA DANVERS STORMED out of her parents’ house after another frustrating argument with her uncle. The complete idiocy of him was driving her mad. He still saw her as the same five year-old child that needed help tying her shoes; he refused to see that she was an adult now and ready to make the necessary changes in her life that would bring her closer to her goals. It was her dream to open a small wine room style bookstore. A quaint home away from home style establishment that would allow consumers the chance to escape from the pressures of everyday life and get lost in a good book and a fine glass of wine. Her uncle blatantly refused to see her vision; instead, he threw out comments such as “doing right by the Danvers’ name” and “her family obligation to uphold decorum.” Since when had she not been anything but a perfect role model for her family?