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  Betrayed

  Alternate Ending

  By

  Wodke Hawkinson

  © 2012 by Wodke Hawkinson

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN: 978-1-4659-6179-2

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author, except by a reviewer, who may quote brief passages in a review.

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, organizations and events in this work are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously.

  Dedication

  This novel is dedicated to Randy N., for giving me the idea of writing an alternate ending to an existing novel.

  ~PJ

  Dear Reader,

  When we wrote Betrayed, we considered various endings for the book. The characters seemed to have minds of their own, and the story kept veering toward the romantic. However, we could clearly see other directions in which we might take the plot.

  In Betrayed—Alternate Ending, we have explored one of those other storylines. Betrayed—Alternate Ending begins at Chapter 49 of the original novel. From this point on, the material is revised, and the ending is new. To understand and enjoy this publication to the fullest, Betrayed, the novel, must be read first. The alternate ending focuses less on the romance between Brook and Lance, and has a bit more tension.

  We have to credit a devoted reader for this idea. When he was about ten pages from the end of Betrayed, the novel, he had a certain expectation of the way the book would end. His expectation was wrong. When he told us his surprise at the ending of the novel, the idea was born to write an alternate ending. To that reader, we say thank you. We hope you will like what we’ve done!

  Most writers know there is something very comforting about returning to familiar characters and working with them again. It was this way for us as we brought Brook, Lance, and the other characters back to life on our computer screens. In addition, it was intriguing to take our characters and put them through an experience completely different from the one in the original book. Who knows, we might write yet another alternate ending. Never say never!

  ~Wodke Hawkinson

  Chapter 49

  Over the next week, Brook watched the snow disappear around the cabin. She almost wished another storm would blow in and cover the mountain in a heavy cocoon of white, wrapping them in its silence, prolonging her departure. But the weather remained clear.

  “You look worried,” Lance said one evening.

  “Hmmm?” Brook pulled herself from her thoughts. “Oh, yes, I am. I’ve been thinking about going to the police. It’s been months since the attack. I’m going to walk in there and tell them the terrible things that happened to me and I’ll have no proof. All my injuries have healed. What if they don’t believe me?”

  Lance remained silent for a minute and then surprised Brook when he stood and left the room. He returned in a moment holding a digital camera. Brook looked from the camera to Lance with a question in her eyes.

  “I have to show you something that’s going to be hard for you to see.” He turned on the camera, flipped a switch, and handed it to Brook. “When I first brought you to the cabin I took these pictures. I wasn’t entirely sure why; maybe to protect myself, I don’t know. But, anyway, here’s your evidence.”

  For the next few minutes, Brook paged through the pictures, her face turning paler with each one. “Oh lord,” she breathed quietly. “Oh dear God!” She dropped the camera into her lap, covered her eyes with her hands, and cried.

  Lance stood by, uncertain what to do. He longed to hold her but felt she needed space.

  “Oh, Lance!” Brook looked at him with anguish. “They hurt me so badly. How did I even survive?” She stared at him for a minute. “I know how I survived. You saved me! And now, you have given me the evidence I need to hang those monsters.”

  The shock of the images had left her shaken. “Could you please hold me?” Her voice was barely a whisper. “Just hold me.”

  Lance pulled her into his arms and held her until she calmed.

  The week passed quickly, far too quickly, for the two lovers. Lance finally spoke the words they had both dreaded. “We can make it to town, now. We’ll leave in the morning.”

  That evening, Brook and Lance were rarely out of touching distance. They sat together, not speaking, each just enjoying the feel of the other’s presence. When they went to bed, they made slow, leisurely love filled with lingering kisses, soft touches, and whispered words of affection. Their hands stroked, lingering over every contour, so their hands could remember when they could no longer do. They didn’t sleep until the wee hours of the morning, and then they woke in each other’s arms and made love one last time.

  Brook had only a small canvas bag containing the camera, sketches, journal, the tiny tree that Lance had packed in a small box for safe-keeping, and several other items she had accumulated. She stepped through the cabin’s door without a backwards glance. It was so hard to say goodbye to the place that had become home!

  Gilbert pranced and bucked in her pen, nimble in spite of her swollen belly. Lance would let her out when he returned, but for now he grabbed a handful of hay and handed it to Brook so she could give it to Gilbert along with a pat.

  “You ever gonna have that baby? You look like you’re about to pop,” Brook chided the goat, then turned somber. “I bet it’ll be too cute for words. I wish it would’ve happened while I was still here.” She sighed. Then she and Lance turned towards the path leading off the mountain.

  The trip to the road was slow going. The path was muddy and Brook was glad Lance had insisted she put on the many pairs of socks and his bulky boots. Her moccasins would never have survived if she had worn them.

  Brook noticed there was still an abundance of snow under the trees where the sun couldn’t reach. Even some places on the path were still drifted over.

  Finally, they reached the road. Lance looked at his bike, having forgotten that he would have to go get Old Reliable. He looked back at Brook, cleared his throat, and said, “Uh, oh!”

  “What?”

  “I’m going to have to leave you here while I ride to the trading post and get my truck. It’s about an hour’s ride one way. I’m sorry; I should have remembered and went for it yesterday.”

  “It’s no problem, Lance. In fact, it’s fine. You ride down and I’ll start walking. The day is beautiful and I’ll be okay. No one comes way up here, do they?”

  “Rarely.” Lance still looked unhappy. “Are you sure?”

  “Positive.”

  They lingered a few minutes, hugging. Then Lance kissed her once, mounted his bicycle, and pedaled down the road.

  The air was brisk. Brook strolled slowly, picking up the pace occasionally to warm up, then slowing again. She looked into the forest, watching as birds flew from one tree to the other, and caught sight of a squirrel. It ran for a second, only to stop and sit on its haunches, searching the area with its black eyes, before darting to another spot where it would repeat the process. She looked up at the robin’s-egg blue sky that held not a single cloud. Smiling, she thought this was probably one of the most peaceful spots in the world right now.

  It didn’t seem long before she heard a vehicle coming. Suddenly panicked, Brook looked around for a place to hide. What if it’s them? What if they find me again?

  She darted towards the trees. Before she ducked inside the woods, a truck’s horn sounded and Lance called out, “Brook?”

  Heart racing, Brook turned back to the road. This was Lance’s truck. She was still safe.

  “Brooklyn? Are
you okay?”

  “Oh!” Brook clutched her chest for a second. “I was suddenly afraid that it was them. Coming to get me!”

  Lance hugged her close. “I shouldn’t have left you alone.”

  “No, it’s okay. I have to learn to manage my fear. It’s just that this is the first time I’ve been away from the cabin, away from safety. I just freaked out for a minute.” She smiled to show everything was fine.

  Lance pointed out sights as they moved towards town. “See that tree?” Lance asked, pointing to a large pine at the side of the road. “Once, on the way down on my bike, I got to going too fast. Before I knew it, I had lost control. I ended up in the lower branches of that tree. I can still remember Denise’s face when I walked into the Trading Post. She took one look at the needles covering my clothes, the dirt streaked on my face, and the pinecone stuck in my hair, and started laughing. I thought she was going to roll on the floor before she got control of herself.” Lance laughed at the memory.

  “Wasn’t she worried you were hurt?” Brook asked, frowning over the woman’s heartlessness.

  “Oh, she saw me walking in. She could tell I wasn’t injured; well, maybe just my pride.” He chuckled as he remembered.

  Brook put her hand on Lance's arm. "I've been thinking about something. When we get to town, I want you to drop me off at the police station. And then I want you to leave."

  "Drop you off?" Lance glanced at her and then returned his eyes to the road. "First of all, Haylieville doesn't have a police station. There's a sheriff's office that covers several small towns. Secondly, I'm not going to just dump you off, honey. I'm going in with you."

  "No." Brook shook her head. "You've gone to all this trouble to make a new life, the kind of life you want. I won't let you jeopardize that on my account."

  "Brooklyn..."

  "I mean it, Lance. Please. Let me do this one thing for you, after all you've done for me."

  They drove on in silence.

  "It doesn't seem right." Lance took his arm from around her and pulled to the narrow shoulder of the road. He put the truck in park and turned to face her.

  His mouth was set in a firm line. Brook traced his lips with a finger, and his eyes softened. Then she used the words she knew would give her an unfair advantage. "Lance, I'm asking you to respect my wishes. Please?"

  A pained look crossed his face, but he recovered quickly. "I guess we'd better say our goodbyes now, then."

  "Thank you." Brook sighed. She wrapped her arms around Lance, and he returned the embrace. With a final kiss, he released her.

  She dabbed at her eyes as he pulled back onto the road. Before long, they reached the outskirts of town.

  Brook turned to face Lance, urgency written on her face. “I changed my mind. I don't want to go to the police right away. First, I need to find a phone. I have to call my parents.”

  "You could do that from the police station," he said.

  "No, I can't wait. Please, Lance."

  Lance nodded and pulled into a convenience store with a phone booth outside. “Will this do? Or, do you want somewhere more private?”

  “No, this is fine.” Brook started to step from the truck, but stopped. “Damn, I don’t have any money.”

  “Don’t worry.” Lance entered the store and returned carrying three rolls of quarters. “They didn’t want to give these up, but I insisted.” Lance kissed Brook’s forehead and went to lean on the back of the truck, giving her privacy to make her call.

  With shaking hands, Brook dialed. She fumbled over the familiar numbers, restarting twice before getting them right. Several rings passed before she heard the loving voice of her mother through the receiver.

  Brook choked up and couldn’t speak for a moment.

  “Hello?” her mother repeated with a questioning tone.

  “Mama,” Brook managed.

  A second’s silence met this word, and then, fearful she had misunderstood, “Brooklyn?”

  “Yes, mama, it’s me!” Tears were streaming down Brook’s face, as the answering sobs of her mother filled the receiver.

  Brook's mom called for her dad and then his excited voice sounded close by. “Where are you, baby?” her mom asked, her words tripping over each other. “Are you okay? Oh, God, we’ve been sick with worry. We were so afraid…” she broke off.

  “I’m okay! Really. It’s a long story and I will tell you everything. Soon."

  "Tell us now! What happened to you? We have to know, Brook." Her father had picked up the extension.

  "I was taken, Daddy." Brook's eyes filled with tears again as she gave them an abbreviated version of her abduction and captivity.

  "Oh god!" Anguish was plain in her dad's voice.

  "I'm safe now," Brook said. "I'm safe now."

  Her mother interjected, "Does Clark know? Have you talked to him?"

  "Not yet," Brook said. "But I will. I'll call him as soon as we hang up. Please don’t call him; let me do it.”

  “Alright, honey. We won’t talk to him until after you tell us it’s okay,” her dad said over her mom’s protests.

  “I’m afraid things are going to get crazy for me in the next few days. Can you tell Gregg and Alice? Just ask them to keep it to themselves. The media will get hold of the information soon enough on their own.”

  After receiving affirmations to her wishes, they talked for a long while. Brook used over two rolls of quarters before she could bring herself to hang up, to let go of the contact with her mama and papa, no matter how tenuous . She promised to call again as soon as she was home. She had a hard time convincing them not to jump on a plane and come immediately. "I have to deal with the police, and get back to Denver. If you could come after that..."

  "I'll do some rescheduling, get someone to cover my practice, and then we'll be there, honey," her dad said. "Within a week."

  "I love you," Brook said. "Don't worry. We'll see each other soon."

  Brook stared at the receiver after she disconnected the call. Finally, she hung it up and turned to Lance. She was trembling when she went to him. He gathered her into his arms and held her until she stopped shaking.

  "Now, I need to call Clark." She pushed away from Lance with a small tug of guilt.

  "I'll wait in the truck." He slid into the seat and closed the door.

  Brook returned to the phone and dialed the number for Clark's cell phone. He didn't pick up. When she got his voice mail, she paused, unprepared. Finally, she cleared her throat and said, "Clark, this is Brook. I'll try to call your office. I'm safe, and I'm coming home."

  She then dialed his office and learned that Clark was in a meeting outside the building. Her message was simple. "Tell him his wife called."

  "That was fast," Lance said as she climbed into the truck.

  "He wasn't available." Brook looked out the window.

  "Okay." Lance started the truck and pulled out of the parking lot. "To the sheriff's office?"

  "Yes," she agreed.

  While Lance drove, Brook changed into the moccasins he had made for her. She ran her fingers through her hair and gently rubbed her eyes.

  When Lance pulled up in front of the sheriff's office, Brook gazed into his dark eyes for only a moment, the ache of their separation threatening to overwhelm her. She saw Lance struggling with the same torment. Quickly, she leaned in to kiss him goodbye. He met her halfway and they lingered briefly over the kiss. Neither spoke of their love; they had told each other many times the night before. The time had come to put those words aside.

  Brook got out of the truck and walked up to the building. In the windows fronting the office, she could see the reflection of Lance sitting in his truck. Her heart squeezed, but she didn't turn around. She blinked back tears as she watched him pull away.

  Lance pointed his truck towards home. Although there was a lot he needed to replenish after the winter, there would be no shopping today. He needed the comforts of his cabin now.

  Chapter 50

  Deputy Sheri
ff Mick Vernon looked up from his newspaper when Brook pushed through the door. "Help you?"

  She approached his desk, holding her bag tightly. "I'm Brooklyn Parrish. I was abducted in Denver last October."

  "Sit down, sit down." Mick closed the paper and set it aside. He stared at Brook as she took the chair across the desk from him. “Now, what did you say your name is?” He moved his computer mouse around, clicking until he had the page he was looking for.

  “Brooklyn Parrish,” Brook repeated.

  “Well, I’ll be damned.” He stared at Brook in amazement. Finally, he said, “Make yourself comfortable; we've got a lot of talking to do. But, I need to call the sheriff first. He's just over at the diner."

  Brook looked around as the deputy sheriff made his call. There were only a few desks in the small department, all of them empty. Her hands trembled slightly as she clutched the bag containing her evidence.

  Mick returned his attention to Brook. "Sheriff's on his way. Can I get you a cup of coffee or something?"

  "Yes, thank you. Coffee's fine." Brook set her bag on the floor beside the chair and clutched her hands in her lap.

  The door opened and Sheriff Leonard Hawk entered. He walked over to Brook and extended his hand as he introduced himself. He grabbed another chair and pulled it over next to the desk. "Let's see if we can get this all sorted out."

  Mick placed the coffee in front of Brook and settled back in his chair, notebook open, and pen poised. Hawk began his questioning. Brook was relieved when they didn't press her too hard about the recluse who housed her over the winter.

  "There are some jurisdictional issues here," Mick said to Leonard.

  Leonard nodded. "I'm gonna make some calls."

  Little over an hour later, after several phone calls, the decision for transport was made. Brook settled in the back of the cruiser, bound for Denver, with Leonard Hawk himself at the wheel and a female deputy riding shotgun. "I want to make this delivery personally," he said over his shoulder to Brook. "It ain't often we get the chance to bring someone like yourself home safely."

  Brook leaned back and closed her eyes. Telling her story had drained her, and she had a lot of thinking to do. Brook felt she could relate to the homeless; even though, in truth, she had a place to go, a home, a life. As the car rolled down the road, moving further from one man she loved and closer to the other, Brook found herself in turmoil. How would she feel being with Clark again? Did she still love him? She hadn’t really thought about the matter before her abduction. But since that time, she had realized that life with Clark had changed over the years.