Page 60 of Unwanted

But now? Halston looked like an old man filled with regret. “What’d she do with the baby?”

“I didn’t know until two weeks ago. Turns out the boy was less than an hour away from me his whole life. Emily gave him to a man who raised him off the grid, away from society. He grew up in the woods outside Helena Springs.”

The boy. Raised off the grid. Mark sat in shock for a moment, digesting the information.

Lucas.

Holy Christ. Lucas had family. Lucas was a Fairbanks. The woman at the bed-and-breakfast with an arrow through her throat had been his mother. But if she gave him up for adoption—legally or not—why in the world had she opted to give him to Driscoll instead of a nice family in the suburbs? Had it simply been a matter of money? Mark flinched internally, picturing some of the unthinkable things he’d seen mothers do to their children for drugs over the span of his career.

Halston had just provided several answers and ushered in a whole slew of new questions.

“Isaac Driscoll.”

“Excuse me?”

“That’s the name of the man whose property he’s living on. Although to say he ‘raised him’ is a stretch. Lucas, that’s the name of your grandson, said he barely had a relationship with the man. And Isaac Driscoll was found dead a week after Emily Barton, murdered in the same manner.”

Again, Halston gaped, but then he shook his head, released a loud whoosh of breath. “Can’t say I’m sorry.”

Mark understood that. Now that it was becoming clear that Driscoll had had far more to do with Lucas living alone in the woods the way he was and that his motives were more than likely nefarious in some way Mark was still trying to figure out, he couldn’t muster much sympathy for the dead man either. Lucas was a different matter. Lucas had never been given a chance to live a normal life. But why?

“Today is the first time you’re hearing his name? You didn’t know anything about him prior to two weeks ago?”

“Not a thing.”

“Do you know what Emily’s connection to Driscoll might have been? Did she give you any indication why she’d given him her baby?”

“Because she was an addict. He probably paid her. Who knows?”

They were both silent for a moment, Mark attempting to piece together this new information. He was surprised that the victim’s fingerprints hadn’t gotten any hits. It was rare that a person with a lifetime of addiction—if Halston was correct—avoided at least a run-in or two with the law. She’d gotten lucky. On one front at least. “What did Emily want the night she called from Helena Springs?”

“Money. She always wanted money.”

Mark frowned. “Why did she think you’d give it to her?” His son was dead. It’d been two decades. What could she threaten him with?

“To make a life for her and the boy,” he said. “She’d burned through the money I’d given her originally and whatever money she might have made from the adoption and had caved to her addiction again. She’d come back to town before, asked for money, but wouldn’t give me any information about the child then except that he’d been adopted. Two weeks ago, she told me how he’d been raised—if you can call it that—in the woods like some goddamned animal. But not by whom.” The words had emerged through gritted teeth, the final one sounding choked. Halston dropped his head, taking several deep breaths, his shoulders quaking with the movement. “She said she’d caught a ride from a friend and only had enough money to pay for a week’s stay in town, but not a dime more. It was my fault, she said, that things had turned out the way they had. It was because of me she’d been forced to make the choices she’d made. I’d backed her into a corner, and now lives were ruined. She said she was back to right the wrongs, and I could do the same if I gave her and the boy enough to start a new life.” Halston’s last word emerged on a broken whisper, and Mark gave him a moment to compose himself.

After a minute, Mark asked, “Lucas is in his early twenties, if I’m doing the math correctly. Do you know why Emily wanted to set up a life for them now? Why she’d waited so long? He’s an adult.”

Halston shrugged. “Because in the past the girl couldn’t get clean. This time, she told me that she’d been clean for a year, though I didn’t believe her. Or if she was, it wouldn’t stick. As far as Lucas, he’s an adult, yes, but what prospects does he have to make a life for himself? The boy must be completely uncivilized.” He looked defeated, not like a man who’d built an empire.

“He’s not. I’ve met him. He’s…lived an unusual life, yes, but he’s no animal.”

Halston regarded Mark, something that looked like the bare glint of hope coming into his eyes.

“What’s the likelihood he’ll ever live a normal life?”

“Normal? I’d say it depends on your definition. I’m not a psychologist, Halston, and I can’t begin to guess what type of psychological harm came to him after the severe isolation he’s experienced. But he’s intelligent. He’s obviously a survivor. I’d hazard a guess that he could adapt to society if he chose to do so.”

Halston sighed, looking off to the side again, seeming to be deep in thought.

Mark leaned forward. “You regret rejecting your grandson? Letting Emily give him up for adoption?”

Halston pressed his lips together. “I acted hastily, with selfish motives in mind. I…don’t suppose he’ll ever really be one of us, but the least I can give him is his name. Whether he chooses to accept it is up to him. What does he go by now? Barton or Driscoll?”

“Neither. Only Lucas. He’s never had a last name. He’s been alone for a long time.”

Halston steepled his fingers and mumbled a curse under his breath.

---