Dexie walked slowly as she moved with Drake Palmer into the high school. Drake tottered at a snail’s pace, pushing his walker and grunting about his ‘shitty damned joints’. Dray had left them so he could let the other council members know he was there before the majority of the town showed up.
“Where have you been all these years, Dexie?” Drake asked quietly as she helped him to sit in a folding chair that had been set up in the cafeteria.
“I did a lot of traveling,” Dexie answered vaguely.
“Why did you leave without saying goodbye?”
“It’s a long, ugly, and complicated story that I’m fairly certain you don’t want to hear. Suffice it to say, the last ten years have been a long life lesson for me.”
“I see.”
Dexie looked up as Dray approached them.
“Dexie, I think that, for the sake of controlling the chaos, you should maybe sit out of sight,” Dray murmured. “At least until we get to where you need to intervene.”
“You’re probably right,” Dexie nodded. “I know I look scary with my lovely bruises.”
“That’s not why,” Drake refuted. “I think we managed to return to town without anyone realizing you were with me. Tabby and Sam Brightman were just wishing they could meet you and Merle Toppin was pissing and moaning that you weren’t here to give your side of the story since Brent’s lawyer has been hitting everybody he can to rally support for Brent.”
“Brilliant,” Dexie scowled as she stood. “Who is Brent’s lawyer?”
“A sleazeball named Jason Bergman. He’s from Helena and likes to pretend Peace is his home. Most folks can’t stand him.” Dray explained sourly. Dexie let him direct her away from Drake and snickered as she heard the elder Palmer snarl irritably, ‘He’s a dick.’
“Your dad cracks me up,” Dexie chuckled. “The things he says.”
“I know, but I can’t change him now.”
Dexie giggled as Dray led her into the kitchen, sighing as he looked at her with serious grey eyes.
“What’s wrong?” Dexie asked, sobering quickly, the tension rolling off of him shocking her.
“Bergman has been doing his best to vilify you. Saying you fabricated the assaults.”
“And?”
“And I’m pretty sure he’s going to show up tonight with some cock-and-bull story about how Brent was the victim.”
“Too bad you can’t get ahold of anyone in Columbus.”
“Why?”
“To ask for an email of the pictures that you had taken of my leg. Then you’d have counter proof. Unfortunately, while I know Ivan has already gotten copies of the pictures from the hospital, I can’t have him email them to me. I’m currently without cell phone. However, the best way to shut Brent’s stooge up is me. I’m right here. I’m living, breathing evidence of Brent brutality. I wish we had my other phone, but…” Dexie contemplated their options verbally.
“I’m glad we don’t. That was awful to listen to.” Dray scowled. Dexie moved to stand in front of him, putting her hands on his arms.
“Dray, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to upset you. It’s just…burden of proof…”
Dray sighed heavily as he put his arms around her gently, pulling her into his embrace. “I’m mostly upset because you’ve been hurt in so many ways and that you were ever put in the position of being saddled with obtaining proof of Brent’s misdeeds.”
“I know, and I love you for that.”
“I have to go,” Dray grimaced. “It’s almost seven.”
“I know. And it’s getting loud out there. Most of the town is probably here.”
“Yeah,” Dray sighed. Although Dexie was loathe to leave the warmth of his embrace, she let him go and watched as he left the kitchen to join the council in the cafeteria beyond.
Over the next forty-five minutes, Dexie sat on the stainless steel counter listening as the council opened the meeting then proceeded with their concerns about Brent’s arrest, his holdings within the community if he was convicted, and his seat on the council. Dray kept mostly silent through the ebb and flow of the conversation and growing turmoil. There were voices she recognized and others that she didn’t but her skin crawled when a new voice spoke up, defending Brent as a kind soul who’d most certainly be acquitted of the ‘heinous accusations’ that had been leveled against him.
“That must be Brent’s lawyer,” Dexie muttered to herself.
“The so-called victim of Mr. Harrington’s alleged assault has disappeared into the wind just as I’ve heard she did ten years ago. Without her side of the story, these charges will disappear just as she has and Mr. Harrington will be back to resume his regular business. Therefore, your concerns are all for naught.” The man’s oily voice continued.
“How do you know she’s disappeared?” Dray asked quietly.
“I went to her hospital room and they said she’d been discharged. There has been no activity at her mother’s home or at the Harrington house and the cabin on your property where all this supposedly occurred is still taped off and guarded. No one has seen her since this morning. Also, given her track record for simply leaving without warning, I’d say she’s gone like the fickle little girl she is.” Bergman explained confidently.
“So you’ve been trolling the county looking for her? When did you have time to do all this, Mr. Bergman? Because there is a law against using your cell phone while operating a moving vehicle and I know you’ve been calling the residents of town trying to get as many of Brent’s supporters here tonight as possible.” Dray asked coolly.
“I have a Bluetooth, Deputy Palmer.”
“I see,” Dray’s voice sounded bored.
“How do you know Dexie hasn’t gone into hiding because she knew you’d have a lynch mob coming for her? I know, for a fact, that Brent Harrington is a vile man who killed my Anastasia as surely as if he’d pulled the trigger himself.” An angry woman’s voice countered. Dexie frowned trying to figure out who she was, unable to remember any girls named Anastasia in town.
“Mrs. Webster, your daughter committed suicide. Mr. Harrington sent a nice bouquet to you.” Bergman replied greasily.
“After he raped her and tried to buy her silence,” the furious Mrs. Webster spat. Dexie’s eyebrows rose at the venom in the other woman’s words.
“The point is,” Bergman redirected. “Dexie McBride is nowhere to be found. Mr. Harrington did nothing more than try to talk to his step-sister about matters concerning their mutual interests in Peace and she attacked him. His nose is broken, his lip is swollen and cut from where she bit him, and he spent quite some time in surgery having some sort of trap removed from his person after her attack. In all reality, Ms. McBride is the one you should be concerned about. Clearly she has some violent tendencies that you have all turned a blind eye to and Mr. Harrington seems to be the target of her vendetta.”
“How do you know this, Mr. Bergman? Have you met Dexie McBride?” Dray asked.
“Of course I’ve met her! Everyone from Peace has.” Bergman scoffed. “And I know her to be a lying, conniving, self-centered girl.”
As the room erupted in a cacophony of biting retorts, angry replies, and vehement denials, Dexie jumped when Dray entered the kitchen. His face was a mask of fury and his fists clenched as he breathed heavily. She moved from her perch quickly to put her arms around him in an attempt to syphon off some of his rage.
“I want to deck that bastard in the worst way,” Dray growled in a hard voice. Dexie reached up and caught his face in her hands, forcing him to look at her.
“You and I are the only two people who know the whole truth aside from Brent. Obviously, he’s decided to spin a web of bullshit. The rest of Peace doesn’t need to know the whole truth but I have no problem nailing his coffin shut here in town with the facts regarding the last few days. I got this, I promise.” She whispered calmly.
“You’re amazing,” Dray breathed. Dexie smiled as she felt him calming. “Let’s go show the town who they have to worry about.”
“Yes, let’s,” Dexie grinned.
Dray caught her hand and kissed the palm gently then pulled her from the kitchen. Dexie wasn’t surprised to see that nearly the entire town had shown up for the meeting, nor was she shocked to see the division of sides so blatantly displayed. Dark, angry faces of outrage were prevalent on the left side of the room, in the large group who were arguing irritably in her defense.
A man, Dexie could only assume was Jason Bergman, paced in front of the long table in which the council sat behind, unaware that she and Dray had entered the room. Dexie noticed quickly that Drake had moved to the left side of the cafeteria and was sitting next to Mrs. Gentry.
A smaller group of townspeople sat on the right, nodding their heads up and down in agreement with each point that Bergman gave regarding Brent’s innocence and Dexie’s many alleged transgressions against the town and Brent. She recognized a fair number, knowing them to be so deep in the Harrington’s pockets that she was still amazed Brent hadn’t intercepted her before she’d made it to the cemetery days earlier. Among them were Alan Burke and Mrs. Johnson, owner of the flower shop she’d stopped at before going to her mother’s grave.
Slowly, as the crowd became aware of Dexie standing next to Dray, the voices died down and eventually were silent until only Bergman was speaking. The lawyer’s voice slowed then tapered off in confusion as he finally noticed the gaping faces of the crowd. Dexie felt a sharp sense of victory as Jason Bergman’s face lost its color as he realized she was there, then she watched as a deep, embarrassed flush crept up his neck.
Dray left her side and resumed his seat, ignoring the questioning stares of his fellow councilmembers. Dexie moved to sit in the lone empty seat at the council table as she continued to watch Bergman. Whispers reached her ears, the crowd wondering if they were seeing a ghost and if Brent really had given her the injuries that they could see.
“Can we help you?” Bergman asked as a scowl darkened his flushed face.
“Oh, I don’t know, you seem to be doing plenty on your own,” Dexie smiled imperturbably.
“Is there a reason you’re sitting in that chair?” Bergman pressed and Dexie’s smile widened.
“Sure. By the original charters that were created by the founding fathers of the city of Peace, Leopold McBride and August Harrington, either a Harrington or McBride must sit on the city council.” Dexie quoted then smirked. “As Brent Harrington is currently enjoying three hots and a cot in Billings awaiting trial, I am sitting here representing the McBride’s.”
“McBride?” Bergman’s scowl deepened.
“Yes, Mr. Bergman. But you knew that already since you’ve met me, right?” Dexie asked innocently.
“Are you saying you’re Dexie McBride?” Bergman asked disbelievingly, his resistance to her admission blatant in his face.
“That’s what my driver’s license, my passport, my birth certificate, and my social security card all say.”
“Have you got proof?”
“Other than having known ninety percent of the people in this room my entire life, no. All of the identification I had when I arrived in Peace three days ago are currently part of the crime scene at the Palmer’s old homestead cabin. And really, the pictures wouldn’t show me properly, as Brent’s handiwork yesterday gave my face these truly distinguishing features.”
“If you are Dexie McBride, which I doubt, you are aware that you can be sued for defamation of character by Mr. Harrington, right?”
“Brent Harrington will not have time to worry about my defaming his character. My lawyer in Billings is working strenuously to ensure Brent faces the maximum sentence for his numerous, documented assaults on me and his attempt to murder me yesterday. There is even a witness, in this room, to Mr. Harrington’s threat of murder. But if you doubt my identity, please, ask the people of this room if they recognize me. I ran into Mrs. Gentry, who used to teach third grade at the elementary school, at the grocery store two days ago. I had dinner with Draven Palmer that same evening. Ask Jim Harwood, I see him here. He used to give me candy from the jar under his counter when I was little. Or Merle Toppin,” Dexie pointed to the man next to her at the table. “He’s owned the bar on Main Street for as long as I can remember and tossed Brent out on his ear when he was seventeen. Or Mrs. Johnson, I was in her shop two days ago getting flowers for my mother’s grave.”
At this, Drake Palmer stood laboriously, his face a mask of fury as dark as his son’s had been minutes earlier. He cleared his throat and glared at Bergman.
“I have known Dexie McBride since the day after her birth. My wife, Millie, tended Dexie every day until her mother was finished working at the school. She’s been welcome in my home since she was born. She is a valued member of this town, not because her last name is McBride, but because she is the embodiment of her family’s legacy.
“For you to insinuate, Mr. Bergman, that Dexie is lying about her identity or Brent’s assault on her is disgusting. You are not a resident of Peace and therefore, unless you have a viable reason to be here, you need to leave. This is a meeting of the council and township of Peace, not random interlopers who merely represent one single member who has, in the past, proven his cruelty and arrogance.” Drake snapped, his green eyes stormy.
Dexie watched Jim Harwood stand a few rows back from Drake, his face also a study in restrained wrath. She knew him to be a kind man who’d give anyone the shirt off his back, so the depth of his anger was shocking.
“Son, you ain’t from around here. So I’mma give you some free advice. Spend less time with your head up that Harrington boy’s rear, and more time wondering why he’s so keen on hurting Dexie and this town. Then, when you’ve done that and realized you’re no better than he is, I want you to tuck your tail between your legs, get back in your fancy car, and drive right on outta town, back to whatever level of hell you came from.” Jim growled, the condescension in his voiced made Dexie shiver as he rocked back on his heels. She chanced a look at Dray, whose face showed that he was equally shocked by Jim’s uncharacteristic display.
Several other people stood and Dexie feared that there would be a lynch mob soon, with Jason Bergman as their target. She stood and held her hands up to forestall the growing crowd of people getting to their feet in her defense. Bergman looked at her one last time, his malicious glare tinged with fear, showing that he, too, sensed that his safety was in question, then he collected his briefcase and left the building quickly.
Dexie waved to a few of the people in the crowd who yelled ‘hi’, before the chaos was interrupted by the sound of something being pounded on the table. Everyone resumed their seats and turned their attention to a man Dexie didn’t know.
“I’m going to assume, based on the actions of the group assembled, that you are, in fact, Dexie McBride,” the man stated rather than asked.
“I am,” Dexie replied.
“Ms. McBride, it’s an honor to meet you. I’m Sam Brightman.” The man introduced as he and a woman sitting in the front row, a few seats away from Drake, stood. Dexie noticed the woman nearing the man and his response of putting his hand on her back. “And this is my wife, Tabby.”
“It’s nice to meet you. Please, call me Dexie.” Dexie implored as she shook their hands. Sam nodded his agreement then gave Tabby a gentle nudge toward her chair.
“I’m sorry to see you’ve had a less than pleasant homecoming, your mother’s passing notwithstanding,” Sam noted with a soft tone of compassion.
“It’s no less than I expected… well, maybe not the twenty-four-hour stint in the hospital, but…” Dexie shrugged. “May I address the council and assembly?”
“Please,” Sam smiled and resumed his seat. Dexie looked at the crowd and searched for the right words to start what she needed to say… to make the people understand her position.
“Good evening,” she started and to her surprise, a woman in the crowd on the right snorted and glowered. “As most of you know, I have been gone for the last ten years and only days ago returned upon the passing of my mother. I know you don’t understand why I left, where I went, or why I wasn’t here when my mother needed me to be. I know you all have heard, at the very least, rumor of what occurred yesterday morning at the old Palmer cabin. I’d like to offer some clarity and advice, as well as the understanding that my sole purpose for being back here in Peace, and for being here tonight, is to give this town some freedom.”
“And you probably won’t even stick around when you’ve finished messing up everyone’s lives,” the woman muttered in a voice just loud enough to carry to the table. Dray sighed and rubbed his eyes.
“This is not the time or place to air out dirty personal laundry, Charlee. Nor does Dexie deserve your recriminations.” He noted in a tired voice.
“So now I’m dirty laundry? Bite me, Dray.” Charlee snapped. She stood and stalked from the building, the door slamming loudly in the shocked silence that followed.
“Sorry, Dexie, please continue,” Dray apologized resignedly. Dexie looked at him questioningly then shrugged before turning back to the crowd.
“I’ve known for many years that the Harrington’s wanted to own the town of Peace outright. I also knew I was wholly unprepared to fight their growing monopoly. My mother, Elaine, was devastated by my father’s death and never truly recovered, as many of you well know.” Dexie continued morosely. There were several heads nodding sadly among the group. “When BJ convinced her that by marrying him, her worries about my future and the future of Peace could be put to rest, I’m fairly certain she had no idea the depth of the Harrington’s corruption.”
Dexie was brief and cryptic in her retelling of the events that led to her leaving Peace and the Harrington’s role in it. She told the group of the Harrington’s plan to take Peace either by manipulation or force as well of their threats against her family and the town. Sounds of outrage, disgust, and disbelief became a low buzz in Dexie’s ears. She briefly outlined the events that had occurred the day before which had led to Brent’s trip to Billings and his arrest, omitting the nature of Brent’s surgery and the ‘trap’ that Bergman had spoken of. The buzz became punctuated by quiet weeping and grumbles of revenge as she continued.
“The thing that needs to happen now, is Peace needs to be free of the cloud of fear and you, the people of Peace, need to be given the chance to contribute to Peace’s prosperity. I know the town by-laws. I studied them in depth while I was gone. My lawyer has studied them as well. With the criminal investigation into Brent’s assault and attempted murder, you, as a town and council have the power and right to remove him from the council, freeze his assets, and forgive any and all debt he may hold over the town or its people. You also have the right to determine what happens to the properties owned within the town limits. My suggestion is to give the current tenants the chance to purchase the property they currently occupy. If the tenant chooses not to, then hold a public auction.”
“Dexie?” Sam’s voice to her left drew her attention. She turned to look at him, finding a deep frown of concern marring his face.
“Yes?”
“Just to clarify, because I’m afraid I heard you correctly. You sacrificed your health and safety when you returned to Peace? You used yourself as bait?” The man stumbled as though trying to find the right words in his growing horror.
“I did use myself as bait, in a manner of speaking, to provide the proof necessary to obtain freedom from Brent for myself and for this town. I knew what he wanted and what he’d do to get it… he’d proven his capacity for violence ten years ago. I knew I had to protect myself and Peace while the burden of proof rest on my shoulders. I have no doubt in my mind that Brent victimized others and I knew it was my responsibility, as the sole remaining McBride, to bring his misdeeds to public light.”
“Are you willing to fill his seat on the council… as the sole remaining McBride?” Sam asked after a long, uncomfortable silence. The heavy blanket of shock with its underlying anger was oppressive and nerve-racking as it settled over the room.
“I am. Although, the requirement of having a descendent of one of the founding fathers has been fulfilled for as long as a Palmer sat in a council seat.” Dexie confirmed.
“I don’t understand,” Sam frowned.
“August Harrington had three children. The eldest, his son, took his place on the council. His eldest daughter, Sabine, married a man named Terrence Burkeholder. They had two daughters, the youngest of which, Ruth, married Byron Palmer, Dray’s grandfather.” Dexie explained.
“Interesting. Why has no one said anything before?”
“Because it was never necessary. There has always been someone from the direct male line to sit on the council… until me.”