Page 42 of Colorado Christmas Carol
Nobody could disprove it, and the family was wealthy. Very wealthy. So questions that might have been asked of a less-fortunate son weren’t asked of him.
He was, of course, the least likely suspect. Dean had graduated with a degree in anthropology and had made straight A’s. His paternal grandfather had died his freshman year and left him rich. Filthy rich. His father’s death had only added to his fortune. He was rich beyond the dreams of avarice. But he was warped by his childhood. Hopelessly warped.
Other women had been mean—women with smart mouths and spoiled attitudes, but Essa had been gentle and sweet. Like Mellie. The two of them had overwhelmed him with their kind natures.
Mellie had pleaded to come along when he invited Essa to the dig site. The child’s obvious, spontaneous affection for him, like Essa’s, had knocked him back. Their kindness only heightened the guilt he felt at what he’d done in an instant’s passion.
So the only solution had been to take himself out of the picture. He could no longer live with the guilt, no matter how fitting a punishment it was for his coldhearted stepmother. He’d sent the car over the cliff to make sure he could never harm another person.
By the time Duke got through explaining in his hotel room, Essa and Mellie were both in tears.
Sitting on the sofa between them, he hugged them both.
“It’s for the best,” he told them softly. “I know that you both felt affection for him. But he couldn’t have had a normal life in any event, considering what his life had been like. Losing his little brother and then his father to a madwoman’s insanity destroyed something inside him. When he killed her, it only added to his desperation. He couldn’t bear it.”
They were pressed close against his broad chest.
“I felt so sorry for him,” Essa said. “He was such a sad person.”
“But he was nice to us,” Mellie told her father.
“Nicer than you know, yet,” Duke replied.
Essa lifted her head. “What do you mean?”
“Dean left a document on his computer. It was signed and notarized, authorizing his estate to be split between the two of you,” he explained.
“Why?” Essa exclaimed.
“He probably felt that you showed him the only real affection he’d ever had,” Duke said simply. “The document, I’m told, will hold up in court. They can’t find a single relative, no matter how distant.”
“That’s so kind,” Essa said. “So at least we can afford to give him a proper funeral, right?”
He smiled at her. “Among other things. His estate is worth ten million dollars.”
Essa just stared at him.
Mellie burst into tears. “I just wish he hadn’t died,” she said. “We could have visited him in jail and sent him mail and stuff.”
“It wouldn’t have worked out that way,” Duke replied. “I’ll explain it to you one day. Meanwhile, I have two other announcements.”
They pulled back and looked at him from reddened eyes.
“First, I just took a job with our local sheriff’s department as their investigator.”
“Oh, wow, we don’t have to leave Benton?!” Mellie exclaimed. “We can stay here with Essa?!”
He chuckled. “I also bought the ranch where we went riding.” He shrugged. “I planned on dedicating my life to paying it off . . .”
“I’ll pay it off,” Mellie said with a grin. “And we can share it, Daddy!”
“I don’t need millions of dollars,” Essa began warily.
“Yes, you do,” Duke said. “You can marry me and live with us, and we’ll fund an outreach program for mental health here,” he added. “That was what Dean asked that a portion of the estate be used for—before your mutual bequests were added.”
“What a sweet man,” Essa said. “I know, he was a killer. But there were extenuating circumstances. And if he hadn’t had the upbringing he did . . .”
“We’ll never know.” He was studying Essa. “I believe I just made you a proposal of marriage . . . ?”
