Shades of Passion

CHAPTER THREE

LESTER DAVENPORT HAD made many mistakes in his life. He hadn’t taken school seriously. He’d taken alcohol far too seriously. And he’d been a terrible husband. So terrible that his wife had ultimately left him, just as he’d always known she would, then up and died anyway, leaving him to deal with his daughter’s grief as well as his own.

His biggest mistake, however, had been entrusting his daughter—his sweet little Beth—to the care of the Charleston mental health system. He’d known his daughter had deserved better. Not a county hospital, but the best that money could buy. He should have done whatever it took to get her out of there.

Only he hadn’t had that kind of money. And his daughter had suffered because of it.

Now, as Lester imagined that suffering—the kind of pain his daughter must have been feeling to have done what she had—he sobbed so loudly the sound hurt his ears. Hands shaking, he reached for the box of cards he’d bought at the grocery store. He picked one at random—they all sported puppies, so it didn’t matter—and began to write.

Beth had loved puppies.

Beth! his mind cried as he wrote.

His sweet Beth.

After a few days in the hospital, she’d started to get better. He’d seen it in her eyes. The last time he’d visited her, he’d talked about bringing her home. How wonderful it would be—just the two of them together again. This time, he’d promised, he wouldn’t mess up. They were going to have a fresh start.

As he’d talked, Beth hadn’t spoken a word.

She’d seemed to get worse after that.

He’d seen it. Why hadn’t they?

They’d left her alone. His sweet daughter. Even after they’d known what she wanted—to end her pain, to leave this world—they’d left her alone with the means to accomplish her goal.

A damn teddy bear. One that Leo, her hoodlum of a boyfriend, had brought her. Lester had never liked the kid. He’d done his best to keep Beth away from him, but the hospital staff hadn’t been smart enough to do the same thing. They’d taken the teddy bear away from Beth, but they hadn’t thought to check Beth’s mouth. That’s where Beth had hidden the ribbon.

After Beth had died—no, after she’d killed herself with the ribbon that had been tied around the damn teddy bear’s neck—Lester had wanted to kill Leo. He’d thought about it. Planned it. Had been this close to ending Leo’s life.

But then he’d realized the kid couldn’t really be blamed.

No, she was the one to blame.

Beth’s doctor.

Nina Whitaker. The daughter of a wealthy politician who’d played at helping others when she hadn’t known what the hell she was talking about.

She’d said Beth was going to be okay.

That she’d take care of her.

She’d lied.

Then she’d left.

She’d thought she could run and leave her mistakes behind her, right along with Beth’s memory.

But she couldn’t.

She wouldn’t.

Every year, Lester made sure of it.

Every year, he sent her a card.

Every year, he reminded Nina Whitaker that Beth was dead—and that it was her fault.