Alright, people. Time to strap in, cos shit just got real.

Chapter 33

"I hope… you don't mind," I puffed, trailing just behind Brandon on our regular morning run. We were almost halfway through, which meant my time for bringing this up was dwindling. I'd been agonising over it for a few days, but every time I thought it was a good time to start the discussion, something came up and I had to stick it on the back burner. This morning, I decided that it was now or never. Talking while running may not be my strong suit, but thanks to Brandon's training it was not somewhat possible, and it was the only time when I could guarantee there were no other distractions to rise up and commandeer the moment. "But I looked into… what happened…. With, uh…. With Imogen's mom."

He didn't reply. He didn't spare me a glance. He didn't alter his pace. He didn't give any kind of indication that he'd heard me at all. I was pretty sure I'd spoken loud enough for the sound to reach him, but maybe my shortness of breath had interfered more than I thought. Or maybe he was in his zone; taking some zen time for himself after a long week. Lengthening my stride, it took a couple of moments for me to catch up and synchronise my steps with his. It was not a comfortable pace, or stride for me, but it wasn't impossible for me to achieve.

"Brandon?" I prompted, glancing over to find his face blanker than a fresh ream of paper. This didn't bode well. He could be stoic, sure, but I'd never actually seen his face the same kind of professionally blank as Ranger and the Merry Men when they're were met with information that they didn't like.

"I heard what you said," he said mildly, not even a hint of emotion in either his expression or his tone. "I'm waiting for you to expand and explain."

For once, I was lost for words. I'd been rehearsing this conversation in my head for ten minutes now, but I couldn't make the words I needed to say come out of my mouth. Probably, I'd violated his privacy by delving into his past. Probably, I should have just dropped the subject entirely when he refused to tell me more about what happened. But something about the whole thing had felt off to me. I couldn't help but wonder. And like always, once an idea got into my head, there was nothing I could do to dismiss it until I'd followed it all the way to the end of the line. How do you think I ended up jumping off the garage roof trying to fly?

"Sorry," I eventually managed to pant, dropping back a bit. "I should have kept my nose out of your business. If you wanted me to know, you would have told me. Sorry."

With every word I lagged a little more behind, until he was a good ten feet ahead of me. I shut my mouth, determined to focus on the run and my breathing and nothing else so as not to inspire any more ire from the man than I already had, but almost the second I'd strengthened my resolve to butt out of his business, Brandon was slowing. At first I thought he was just changing back the gears, preparing to cool down before we got back to the house, but when I followed his lead, trying to keep the distance between us, he pulled back even more, now travelling at a fast walk. It wasn't until he halted completely, sliding his hands up over his head to lock together on top of his cap that I realised we weren't just starting the cool down.

I had no choice but to stop, but as I stood there panting, Brandon's voice from that first day I showed up with medical clearance from his friend rang through my head telling me to stretch out my muscles so I wouldn't seize up. I obeyed past-Brandon's commands as I slowly approached where he'd stopped, hoping against hope that I hadn't ruined all the rapport we'd built in the last couple of months.

When I reached Brandon's side, he dropped his arms and started walking again, gently grasping my upper arm long enough to ensure that I was keeping pace with him before releasing me. The silence bubbling between us as burning a hole in my soul, but I could not, for the life of me, find the appropriate words to dispel either of our discomfort. Assuming, of course, that what Brandon was experiencing was discomfort and not just anger and annoyance at my actions.

"What did you learn?" he finally asked, staring straight ahead. I wasn't sure if he was asking out of the compulsion to control the information others had about him, curiosity as to how well I'd done with the search or if there was something else entirely driving this conversation forward, but I had questions that I needed answers to, so I was grateful for this permission to continue however tenuous it might be.

"I learned that Sarah wasn't kidnapped, or coerced, or manipulated into leaving you that day as far as I can tell," I started slowly, mentally lining up all the ducks I'd been preparing to stuff back into the bag they came out of and shove them to the darkest recess of my mind to hopefully forget about. "I learned that when she left the theme park she drove to a train station twenty minutes away, stopping somewhere along the highway to dump out all evidence of Imogen's presence in the vehicle. I learned that when police found the car in the parking lot the keys were in the glove compartment and the spare tire was missing, leading me to believe that she had hidden a go-bag in the spare tire compartment. I learned that she had been seeing a Frenchman by the name of Jacques Dupont for several months before the day she left you. That she was, at that time, three months pregnant."

I paused to collect some more of my thoughts and analyse Brandon's reaction to the facts I had released into the air, but he was still rather blank faced, and since I hadn't experienced his particular brand of blank face before, I was at a loss as to how to interpret what I was seeing. I knew from the mere fact that he had shut down his emotions that it was a sore subject for him, even after three and half years. I wanted to go on and reveal everything that Bobby had told me when I'd finally managed to call him back (Tank and Lester had had to get back to work), but I also didn't want to dredge up his past trauma, pouring salt on the wounds.

"I beat myself up for a long time for not realising what the change in her behaviour meant," Brandon said quietly, eyes locked on something in the middle distance as we continued to walk. "I should have known she wasn't happy. I should have known she was cheating on me. I should have known she was pregnant. I should have realised she was preparing to leave me."

I shook my head. "That's not how cheating works," I informed him. "Besides, from what I gathered from the deeper search, Sarah had already had some practice at ditching."

Brandon let out a sharp breath, finally moving his gaze to look at me. "You did do your homework," he said in a tone that was somewhere between praise and something else that I couldn't quite put my finger on.

I shrugged a slight apology but was sure to be honest about who had actually done the research. His shoulders stiffened briefly at the news that I wasn't the only one who had recently come into possession of an in-depth knowledge of his ex's life, but when I pointed out that I didn't have access to the necessary programs on my laptop, he relaxed a little, commenting on my use of the resources available to me. This, I acknowledged silently, was significant progress from when I first approached him for help, when he would have admonished me for manipulating people into doing my bidding rather than getting the training I needed. He knew I had the search skills, so there was no question about whether I would have been able to find the information given the proper time and equipment.

"I didn't know any of that when we got together," Brandon sighed. "She didn't tell me about any previous relationships, any previous offspring, and since there were large portions of my life that I simply wasn't permitted to tell her, I couldn't bring myself to push the topic. It seemed hypocritical for me to demand information about her past when I couldn't be as open with her."

According to the file Bobby had sent through after our video call, Sarah Shrivington had been just nineteen when she met her first husband, they had a whirlwind romance lasting 7 months before Sarah became pregnant, prompting a shotgun wedding. Police reports from after she had abandoned both baby and father stated that they had both been thrilled with the news that they were to be parents, but that following the birth, Sarah appeared to have experienced post-natal depression that went unnoticed by both husband and healthcare professionals. Police were unable to track her down and the husband filed for divorce twelve months later.

Two years later Sarah, living in Ireland now, and operating under her mother's maiden name, met and fell in love Patrick O'Brien. The pair dated for a year and a half before Patty popped the question. The wedding came six months after, a beautiful baby girl nine months after that. Sarah stuck around a little longer with Patty, but ultimately left him and the girl a week before Christmas when she said she was 'just ducking out for a fresh loaf of bread'. The baby was just four months old.

Next came the twins, conceived of a Welshman to whom she had the good sense not to hitch herself permanently, given the abandonment that followed within the first year of the twins' life.

Logic told me that she should have gotten her tubes tied if she was so hell bent on not being a mother that she would just up and leave like that several times over, but clearly Sarah was not operating on the same, logical wavelength as I was while reading her file. It disgusted me that she could do such a thing to her own flesh and blood. And I was horrified that she'd been allowed to get away with it. Was still getting away with it.

"I gotta tell you," I said, my feet halting in their constant motion so abruptly that Brandon was forced to make and about face to maintain social etiquette. "The more Bobby revealed, the more I read in her file, the more I hated her. She's a foul, loathsome creature for treating you the way she did. For treating Imogen that way. And for the others. I don't understand how a person does that. I mean, she abandoned her first child – infant, he was only six weeks old – at home while the father was at work. He came home to police in his house because the neighbour had called the police after the baby had been screaming non stop for hours. I just- And the twins she left at the supermarket checkout with their father when she supposedly raced back to pick up what they'd forgotten in one of the aisles? I can't- She's so-"

Brandon interrupted my emotional outburst with a hand on my shoulder. "I know exactly how despicable she has been in her life," he assured me. "It's a fact I have had to come to terms with. I forged a relationship with the woman. I brought a child into the world with her. I will never forgive myself for allowing Imogen to see my distress and anger toward her mother, for being completely truthful with the fragile six-year-old girl about what had happened to mummy. If I had taken the time to run a thorough background check on her, I could have save myself a lot of heart ache and mental trauma."

"But you also wouldn't have Imogen," I pointed out quietly, recalling how his whole demeanour changed when Imogen entered the room. He adored that child.

"You're right," he nodded, urging me on so we could finish our run-turned-walk before Imogen woke up. "Imogen is the silver lining in all this."

"You should be proud of how she's turning out," I informed him.

"I am." There were a few beats of silence between us as we rounded the last corner. We were three houses down from Brandon's when he stopped once again and turned to face me, his expression no longer blank, but serious, calculating. "I assume you're search also covered what Sarah has been up to since the theme park," he questioned, his eyes searching mine with so much intensity that I couldn't help by squirm. "And I want to make it clear that I don't want to know. I have washed Sarah from my life. Permanently. Anymore chaos and agony she has caused since she overturned my life and the life of her daughter is none of my concern and I'll thank you for keeping the information to yourself."

Struck dumb, I could only nod my understanding. Brandon knew what was best for himself and for his daughter, so I couldn't not respect his wishes, especially on a subject such as his lying, cheating, trollop of an ex.


So, there you have it, people, some more insights into Imogen's dirty, rotten mother.