Page 72 of Shattered Hope
“He told me he couldn’t keep me alive since he had told the world I was dead. He took great pleasure explaining how he staged my death and how he played the role of mourning widower.”
“He claims he knew nothing about that,” the detective warned me. “That he genuinely thought you were the woman on the car.”
“If that’s true, why was he after me? Why was he tracking my social security number?” I asked, my voice thick with all the hatred I felt for the man.
The detective nodded as he ended the recording. “Thank you for your help. I know this wasn’t easy for you. I’ll take this to the prosecutor. I’m sure he will make good use of it.”
I thanked the man and watched him leave hurriedly before I closed my eyes.
Jayden was still in the same place he had been since the detective entered the room – by the window, his eyes lost somewhere outside. Now that we were alone, a thick silence filled the room, and I pushed back a sob, not sure what to say or even if I wanted to say anything.
This wasn’t the way I had planned to tell him my story.
“Josh and the other two police officers that came from Seattle with me are outside guarding your door. You’re safe here,” he said in a dark tone I barely recognized. “I need to be at the hearing. I’ll come back later.”
I opened my eyes just in time to see him march towards the door. “Jayden…” I called him out, but he pretended he didn’t hear me, and before I knew, he had left.
I closed my eyes and finally allowed my tears to run down my cheeks, too weak to stop them. I felt drained.
“Hey there… how are you feeling?” a nurse asked me as she entered the room. “Your fiancé told me you were in pain. Would you like something for it?”
I nodded, wanting more than anything the obliviousness that came with the painkillers. “Yes, please.”
She injected something into my intravenous line, and a few moments later, my eyes were closing. “This will make you feel better soon,” she told me.
“Thank you.”
***
Jayden
I don’t think I knew the real meaning of powerless until Ailani started telling her story to the detective. She had been through hell, and nothing I ever did would erase that. But I could make sure the bastard responsible for her pain didn’t have another chance at hurting her.
I rushed to the court and got there just in time to hear the prosecutors recite all Hudson’s charges. I needed all my strength and self-control not to jump to where the bastard was sitting and take justice in my own hands. The cynical smirk on his face, while he heard the charges, made my blood boil, and for a moment, I saw red.
In the end, the judge announced Hudson would stay in custody until his trial. Hearing him say what a disgrace Hudson was to the institution he once represented appeased some of the rage boiling inside me.
Not that Hudson cared. He was still convinced he could walk out of this situation as if nothing had happened.
The detective told me later, he had shown no regret nor shame while hearing Ailani’s recorded testimony, and I can’t say I was surprised.
“What are his chances?” I asked the detective.
“The NYPD is already investigating the staging of Ailani’s death, trying to link it to him. Even if they can’t, which is probable, since he cremated the body, he was the person with the most interest in declaring her dead,” he pointed out. “Ailani didn’t have the means to pull off something like that, and I’m sure she will be able to prove she was quite far from New York by the time of the accident.”
“Good. He deserves to spend the rest of his life in jail.”
“The prosecutor will definitely go for that,” the detective said. “He was caught during the act. There is more than enough evidence of the rape and physical abuse he subjected her to. His semen was found all over her. Even if they can’t charge him for his past crimes, he has no way out of this one.”
I was pleased to hear that, but the way he described Ailani’s personal hell felt like a strong punch to my gut. I should have protected her. I should have listened to her.
I still couldn’t believe I missed the bruises on her face and arm. I had been blinded by jealousy.
“You’ll probably be called to testify,” the detective warned me.
“I’ll be here,” I assured him.
“Good. We’ll be in touch.”
