Thanks as always guys for the reviews! A few years ago I remember watching an interview of a mother whose two sons had attacked another man. The victim was a husband and father, and he survived. The mother had reported her sons to the police and the victim was taking the opportunity to thank her for what she did. Her sons disowned her for doing the right thing. That story is what made me think of the storyline of TIB, and this chapter links to it. Hope you like it...

About a week after Anthony Brooks took me hostage, he handed himself into the police. He admitted manhandling me, locking me up and then running away. In his own words he was 'convinced' that his brother was innocent and 'wrongly imprisoned' for Troy's attack. Carl Brooks had, he claimed, begged his older brother to trust in him, and that he had. So much so, that he had agreed to do his brother a favour: find the key witness and 'make her pay somehow'.

Police questioned whether running away had always been part of his plan. Anthony admitted that it hadn't been. He said that his intention had been to scare me, and it was fuelled by the anger he felt on his brother's behalf. Carl had wanted him to do 'more' (I try not to think about it, but I know this means he wanted me to get hurt), but Anthony claimed he couldn't have brought himself to do more than frighten me. According to him, it was a stretch for him even to shove me in the way that he did. But apparently the things I said back to him; that detailed analysis I gave on what happened to Troy, is what made him disappear.

He claimed that in that moment, he felt sick as he realised that Carl had lied to him. And in the next moment; the panic set in. He knew he had just kidnapped an innocent woman, and that he was now just as terrible a person as his brother was.

So he ran.

I can almost understand what must have driven him to trap me as he did. The pure and genuine belief that somebody had done their best to get his brother locked up. And I had done that. Only what he didn't know was that his brother had thoroughly deserved it.

What there is no excuse for is him leaving me locked in a tiny cupboard, even upon discovering the truth.

And so he has been charged for what he did to me, and now Troy and I are waiting to hear what will happen next. All we know is that he has been remanded in custody since the day he turned himself in. And that was almost four weeks ago.

It is the weekend, and Troy has just popped out to get some milk, allowing me to have a lie in. Typically though, the phone starts ringing, so I now have no choice but to get up.

"Hello?" I say after padding out onto the landing where we keep one of our two house phones and picking up the receiver.

"Mrs Bolton?" comes a voice I am vaguely familiar with. "This is Chief Constable Morris. Is your husband home?" Now I know who this is. It's the head of the police – but Troy knows him simply as 'Mike'.

"Oh, hello there," I reply. "Actually he's just popped out, but he won't be long..."

"That's fine, I can just give you the news. I think it will be better for him to hear it from you, anyway," the man says kindly. But now I feel worried. Does this mean it's bad news?

"Wh...what is it?" I stutter nervously. Instead of sounding grave and sombre, though, his voice takes on an almost triumphant tone. And then I find out why.

He tells me that Carl Brooks' appeal request has been denied. He must serve the rest of his time in prison, without a chance of parole in that time. Immediately I breathe a huge sigh of relief, and thank the constable for letting me know. However, it seems he hasn't said it all yet. There is something else he wants to let me know of, he explains.

I listen incredulously as he tells me that Brooks' mother wants to meet Troy. Well, the both of us. This is the brave woman who reported her son for leaving Troy to die; and who even testified against him in court. As well as that, she also tipped off police as to what her other son was up to. Truth be told, I have always wanted to thank her. But I never expected her to make this move.

Morris explains that if we want to meet her too, he will help to set up a meeting by passing on our details to her, or hers to us. "Well," I say, still stunned. "I'll have to talk to Troy and find out how he feels about it. Can we get back to you sometime soon?"

"Of course, take your time," he answers.

"Thank you. And thank you for calling to let us know about the appeal, too," I add. We exchange goodbyes and then hang up. And wouldn't you know it, at that exact moment the door clicks open downstairs, and I know that Troy is back from the shop.

"Gabi?" he calls out.

"Up here, Troy!" I call back as I wrap my dressing gown around me, having begun to feel a little cold.

My face must still show my complete and utter shock, because as he spots me in the doorway of our room, a concerned look replaces his smile. "Hey, what is it?" he asks.

"Don't worry, I'm fine," I reassure him, placing a hand on my ever growing bump. "We're fine. But can you come and sit down with me for a minute?" I take his hand and we sit together on the bed. "I've just got off the phone. It was the Chief Constable," I explain slowly.

Instantly Troy looks as anxious as I felt when I had answered the phone. "It's alright, really," I say, gently squeezing his hand in support. "It's good news. He just wanted to let us know that Brooks' request for an appeal was denied. He's got to serve his whole sentence."

My heart swells when his face relaxes, and he squeezes my hand back. He closes his eyes for a moment, then opens them to look at me. "Really?" he says quietly. I just nod, and for a few minutes we just sit there in silence, basking in this new knowledge. Troy rests his head on my shoulder, and though I don't let on, I know he is crying. This is months of pent up worry coming out all at once. I stroke his hair, thankful that there is justice in this world.

Eventually he composes himself and plants a soft, short kiss on my lips. I smile back at him and decide that now is the time to tell him what else I have found out this morning. "There was something else Constable Morris had to tell us," I say softly. Troy looks up in wonder, and I continue. "Brooks' mother wants to meet us. I told him we would have to talk about it and get back to him, because the whole thing would be arranged through them."

For another minute, Troy says nothing. Then he takes a deep breath. "Wow."

"That's what I thought, too," I reply. "How do you feel apart from that?"

"Well, I've often thought about being able to thank her one day for what she did. To be honest, it was ever since that day at the trial when she had to testify. It was so obvious that she never meant to implicate us in court. It was also obvious that she was sickened by what her son did. And if it weren't for her calling the police on her other son, it might have taken us longer to find you. I have a lot to be grateful for," he tells me.

"I feel the same. What she did was really brave. And she must have to live with what her son did to you every day. So what do you think? Do you want to meet her?" I ask.

"Yes, I do. What about you?"

"I'd like to meet her too. So, that's our decision made then!" I say with a smile.

There's no denying this is no ordinary situation. But perhaps some good can come out of everything we've been through. After all, we already found one good thing out of the ordeal. Each other.

.HSM.

A few weeks after receiving the phone call, Troy and I are on our way to meet Mrs Brooks at her house. We did invite her over to us initially, but she insisted that she wouldn't hear of us going to any trouble, especially when she learned I am pregnant.

And so we find ourselves parking outside a small, yet inviting-looking house. As we link hands and wander up the little path leading to the door, we give each other a reassuring look, and then Troy rings the bell.

Having only seen this woman during the trial, all I remember is the heartbroken look on her face that day. But this time, as she opens the door, I see a cheerful lady with short blonde hair. The familiar features on her face remind me that it is the very same person.

"Troy and Gabriella?" she greets us warmly, and we nod and offer her a smile each. "I'm Sandra. Come on in." We follow her indoors and find a very tidy, but modest home. As we all sit down, she is the first to speak again.

"I'm so glad to finally be able to meet you both. I...I've always had it in my head what I wanted to say to you, but seeing you here in front of me...well, what I planned on saying doesn't seem enough." She looks down briefly, and when she raises her head again I see that there are tears in her eyes.

"It's okay," Troy tells her kindly, letting her know that he doesn't blame her. And this seems to be enough to give her the courage to go on.

"Thank you. It's not okay, but thank you. What my son did to you, Troy, was horrifying. I'm so sorry. I'm truly sorry for everything you've been through – both of you. I didn't even realise what my older son was planning until it was almost too late," she says, turning to look at me halfway through her speech. "I can say nothing to explain or defend what Carl did that night. I haven't seen or spoken to him since that trial, and to be honest, I don't want to."

For some reason, this actually surprises me. Perhaps it is because I've always heard that a mother's love is unconditional, and that they can forgive their children. Then again, I couldn't dismiss it if my child had done what Carl Brooks had done.

Sandra sees my face and elaborates. "He disowned me. It hurt a bit at first, because I just wanted him to see that he had done something terrible, and to see that I had no choice in what I did. I wanted him to be sorry. But he's never shown any remorse. That's why I'm glad he didn't get the chance to carry out that appeal."

We smile back at her, and I am increasingly glad that we came here today. This is one genuinely incredible lady.

"All I can say about Anthony is that he's spent the last few years in turmoil over his brother. Carl had him so convinced that he was innocent, and nothing I could say would make him see otherwise. I told him over and over again that his brother had confessed to me, but he wouldn't have it. They've always been close, the two of them, you see. Then I noticed that Anthony was acting strangely, and a few days before he did what he...what he did, he let me in on what was going on inside his head." Sandra falters for a moment and is clearly thinking deeply about recent events.

She pushes her hair out of her eyes, and then continues. "Finally I remembered something, and it made me realise that it was you he could be putting in danger. So I called the police and reported one of my sons for the second time."

"Thank you so much," I utter, feeling overwhelmed but taking in everything that is said.

"I don't need a thank you, my dear, really. It was the very least thing I could do, and I would do it again if I had to."

"My wife is right, Mrs Brooks...Sandra," says Troy, correcting himself. "No matter how you see it, we do owe you a thank you. What you did took so much bravery and compassion. And it shouldn't be up to you to apologise for what your sons have done, either."

"Then I must thank you," she replies. "For reaffirming something that I've always believed – that I made the right decision."

It's as I sit there, holding my husband's hand and listening to this remarkable woman; that I make a decision of my own.

I want to put an end to all of the hatred that is mixed into this situation. At least any hatred on our part. I will never forgive what Carl Brooks did to Troy, and I'll never be able to forget it. But thanks to that one man's actions all those years ago; there are things none of us have ever been able to let go of. For Troy and I, it is disbelief, and haunting memories that plague us. Brooks' brother took his disbelief even more literally, and couldn't accept the truth. Their mother has had to accept that her son is nothing but a vicious monster of a human being. And one who led his own brother astray too.

But this visit today has left me wanting us all to be able to let go. Of the pain, the trauma, and all other remnants of that cold, terrifying night.

And once we've all let go of that; we can finally move on for good. We can finally all be happy.

Thanks for reading!

The next chapter will be the last.

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