Page 7 of Betrayed (Alternate Ending)

Randi cleared her throat, interrupting Brook's thoughts. "I know you’ve been through a horrible ordeal, and I assure you I will do everything in my power to track these monsters down. What you need to do now is go home with your husband. Start putting your life back together.”

The door opened and an officer led Clark into the room. Brook stood.

In that awkward first moment, Brook noticed how much Clark had aged. They stared at each other as if under a spell.

Then, Clark rushed to Brook and took her in his arms. He wept. Tears welled up in her eyes also, but a part of her stayed distant. His touch, familiar as it was, seemed strange to her now. She let him hold her but gave little in return. He didn’t seem to notice her lack of enthusiasm, but Detective Conroy took note.

"We'll step out and give you folks some privacy." Randi gestured to Marco. They walked outside and closed the door behind them.

Clark pushed Brook away and held her at arm's length, studying her. His eyes were moist. “Oh god, Brook, where were you? Where have you been all this time?” Clark pulled her close to him again. His shoulders heaved several times.

"Not here, Clark. We'll talk when we get home." Brook patted his back awkwardly and then moved out of his embrace. She nervously gathered her things. Clark led her from the room with an arm around her shoulders.

Detective Conroy stepped in front of them as they reached the lobby. "A word of advice." She put a hand on Clark's arm and looked from his face to Brook's. "Go easy. It doesn't all have to be resolved in a day."

Clark nodded and Randi moved aside. She watched as they stepped through the doors.

Reporters once again gathered around Brook. Clark tried to shelter her with his body as he escorted her to the car. He opened the door for her and turned to confront the media. With cold eyes, he waited until he had their complete attention. Microphones extended toward his face.

"My wife will give you a statement when she's damn good and ready. Until then, stay away from her or I'll slap a lawsuit on you that'll have you and your publishers living in cardboard boxes under the Grand Street Bridge. And that's if you have a good lawyer."

He closed the door gently and strolled to the other side of the car, shouldering a persistent reporter out of the way before sliding behind the wheel. Brook settled into the seat with a weary sigh. The meeting with Sheriff Hawk, the long drive to Denver, the hours at the police station reliving the details of her abduction and captivity, and the suspicion churning in her mind had turned her nerves raw. And, she missed Lance. She shot a Clark a guilty glance, watching his hands on the wheel as he pulled into traffic. At the heart of it all, there was the yearning for her lover. A yearning she had no right to feel. It had been a horrible day. And it wasn’t over yet.

As soon as they were on the freeway, Clark started rapid-firing questions at Brook. “Where have you been? Why didn’t you let me know where you were? Do you know how worried I’ve been?” He probably would have continued in this manner if Brook hadn’t interrupted.

“Clark.” Brook sighed deeply. “I know you need answers. And I’ll give them to you. But not here. Not in the car. Please wait until we’re home.”

Clark opened his mouth to speak but Brook only shook her head. “Please?”

“Of course. I understand.” Clark took one of Brook’s hands in his and held it tight for a minute before letting go. The remainder of the drive was spent with Brook staring out the passenger window and Clark slipping her surreptitious glances.

At the guardhouse, Clark rolled down his window and spoke quietly to a surprised Jerry, whose startled eyes flickered over Brook and back to Clark's face.

"The press will probably flock outside these gates like a pack of vultures," Clark warned Jerry. "I'm sorry for that."

"I can handle it." Jerry ducked down and caught Brook's eye. "Good to see you again, Mrs. Parrish."

Brook gave him a reassuring smile. She knew she could trust him; she knew he would do his job.

When they reached home, Clark pulled into the garage. Brook stepped from the car, fatigued and torn by conflict. She walked into her home for the first time in months. Nothing had changed while she was gone. Breathing in the once-familiar smell, she was surprised to find it no longer held any comfort. Nor did she find solace in the surroundings as she looked around her. Everything seemed so grand, so pretentious, so cold.

Clark followed her uncertainly as she moved through the house, touching one thing after another, feeling nothing for any of the items.

"Brook?" Clark stopped in the doorway, a look of anguish on his face.

Brook held up a hand, a gesture that silenced him. She paused in the middle of their luxurious front room, looking around as a realization struck her. This had always been Clark’s home, the place they had gone to get away from the memories of their lost baby, the place where they would supposedly heal their grief and reconnect to each other.

Now, Brook knew they had only been putting up fronts. Artificial bright facades to hide the true emptiness. Sadness filled her as she mentally prepared for the confrontation with her husband.

She decided a shower and change of clothes was in order even though she could still discern, very faintly, the scent of Lance’s cologne on her clothes. How tacky, she thought, to reunite with my husband while the scent of my lover still lingers on my skin. She shrugged and turned to Clark. “I’m going to shower. I’ll be back as soon as I’m done.”

“Brook,” Clark said, ready to stop her. But the look on her face told him she wasn’t going to listen yet. Instead, he said, “I missed you.”

Brook spared him what might be taken as a smile and continued up the stairs.

Afterwards, clean and in clothes of her past, Brook returned to the lower floor. She looked out the patio doors over the lawn. The last remnants of snow shrank against the fence where it was shady. She felt her eyes glaze with tears. This homecoming was not as she had imagined it would be.

"Brook," Clark said again. "Talk to me. Please."

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