Legacy of the Lost: A Donna DeShayne Adventure

By Bella Fayre

Donna DeShayne, a forensic psychiatrist, finds herself assisting in the unsolved murder of a respected businessman and his wife. Baffled and discouraged by the lack of leads, an unexpected turn of events allows her to put the fragmented pieces together to discover the Legacy of the Lost.

• Language: English
• Publisher: UCAN Publishing, LLC
• Release date: Nov 12, 2019
• ISBN: 9780990931096

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Copyright © 2019 by Bella Fayre

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All rights reserved.

Printed and Bound in the United States of America

Published and Distributed by:

UCAN Publishing, LLC

P.O. Box 51616

Myrtle Beach, S.C. 29579

www.ucanpublishing.com

Interior Layout and Cover Design:

TWA Solutions

www.twasolutions.com

Proofreading:

Star Editing

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ISBN: 978-0-9909310-7-2 (paperback)

ISBN: 978-0-9909310-9-6 (ebook)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2019915804

First Print: November 2019

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, groups, organizations, places, events, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination and/or used in a fictional manner. Any resemblance to actual places, persons, living or dead, actual groups or actual events is purely coincidental.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed in a newspaper, magazine, or journal.

For inquiries, contact the publisher.

For Mary and Joe.

"Death is not the greatest loss in life.

The greatest loss is

what dies inside us while we live."

Norman Cousins

Chapter One

A

n understanding, first grasped in youth, builds over time. Life has a way of moving on despite the losses, errors, pitfalls, and unexpected curves in the road. When all is said and done, our being eventually finds its stride, homeostasis, and balance, despite an unsettling, even brutal arrival result. The receiver must process input to reach a conclusion to be learned from and lived with. Not all are lucky in this endeavor. For some receivers, the outcome is unforeseen and unwelcomed.

In the present case, the follow-up was welcomed. Circumstances were purposely contrived that, while a bit unnerving at first would, in the end, afford a place to hide. It wouldn’t be forever. For now there would be no questions regarding the past, no inquiries related to previous actions. Welcomed silence on multiple fronts culminated in supreme satisfaction. Finally! Finally, the wrong had been righted!

Years before it was apparent the indifference had to be addressed. The flagrant withholding of years of support on multiple fronts had to be discovered, questioned, confirmed, and dealt with in no uncertain terms. Those who allowed their greed to draw them into the mix would be dealt with directly. Outside, intruding interests had to be eliminated. It was the only way. The greedy would understand the consequence of their actions! There were results to one’s decisions. How hard it would be for some to find the lessons of outcome. So be it!

For a quiet and unobtrusive observer of dysfunction, the years of cataloged neglect and disregard would bring a personal conclusion that some were not worthy of mercy or forgiveness. The lack of conscience, the denial of responsibility would only do harm, in some cases for generations. The spiritually informed could take one of two paths. Either sit back as a passive observer, watching the dysfunction take hold in another generation or create a path toward decisive action in protest. The latter was the clear choice.

By the grace of divine providence, a controlled environment would allow withdrawal and final assessment in the short term; a blessing, when all was considered. One had to understand and accept the trade-offs to be able to surmount the unforeseen travails of life.

There was little to complain about in the aftermath. No one would suspect. For a time. There was still work to do and as before, there would be assistance. For now there was a peace, a serenity, and sense of accomplishment. Finally.

Blame was not to be placed on the fourth wife. The woman, after all, was not at all worldly or informed, though she possessed a cunning to those who could recognize it. The problem was, no one was looking. This woman was used as a tool to further the agenda of a highly passive-aggressive mate who had just enough standing to affect the future of generations, disregarding the past intentions. The timing for this wife was fortuitous. She would realize an unexpected windfall upon the death of her second husband. How could she know the real history after five short years of marriage, especially from a husband so good at manipulating the unsuspecting?

Young by comparison, days were now spent observing others dealing with their own struggles. Anonymity was found in hiding among an unsuspecting population. A sly smile appeared most days. Those around her had no idea she had the ability to create and orchestrate such brutality. How could they? Most were unpretentious and vulnerable. They had no idea a murderer struggled to speak to them, feigning interest in their struggles. They had no clue why the smile appeared or the distant look of satisfaction in the eyes. They had no idea a personal insult had been dealt with in no uncertain terms. They had no inkling an affront had been adjusted. They had no hint of the legacy of the lost.

Chapter Two

Coastal South Carolina -Spring- Current Time

D

onna was luxuriating in her time at home. She had received no urgent calls from law enforcement agencies for nearly two weeks. Heavenly! She was determined to tackle projects that she had long ignored because of sojourns away from home. It was spring cleaning at its finest for a woman who was accustomed to organization.

She started with the bedrooms, continued through the living room and kitchen, and finally worked her way to Ken’s office. Her partner and lover for nearly twenty years, Ken was a detective with the county police department. She often referred to him as her ‘everything man.’ They were a match made in heaven. Most important to Donna, he made no demands on her. Similarly, she made no demands on him. Each understood the spiritual side of the other and acted accordingly. It was what positioned their relationship for success early on.

As a forensic psychiatrist, Donna’s expertise in criminal behavior had propelled her to nationwide recognition. She had not strived for notoriety; it just happened. In recent years, she was the go-to-gal for law enforcement agencies across the nation that were grappling with stubborn scenarios. She loved her work, but it often took an emotional and physical toll. For a start, there were the long periods of time away from home. Ken was understanding during these times, but she would long for his embrace while away. It could be weeks before they reunited in an explosion of long-overdue need, emotional, physical, mental, and sexual.

Today, after a night of unbridled passion, she was energized for cleaning. Ken’s office was next on her agenda. This was tricky because of the confidential material he sometimes had on his desk, so she first asked Ken for his approval. It’s fine with me, but don’t move my stuff, if you can help it. I have some sensitive issues I’m working on, he responded as he kissed her seductively before leaving for the morning.

The kiss sealed it! Donna was project-oriented. Give her a task, and she would find her stride. She attacked Ken’s home office with a fervor. First on the list were the windows. They hadn’t had attention in months. After restoring them to clean and glistening, she next took on the blinds, baseboard, and cabinets, and even dusted the walls. Draperies were vacuumed: Flooring cleaned.

When she neared Ken’s desk to dust, she noticed a binder titled Case 20617. Normally, she and Ken never discussed their cases. They were both highly respectful of the other’s domain and rarely crossed the lines. On a few exceptional occasions, the conversation was along the lines of outflow of thoughts leading to possible conclusions. Each understood the intent and guarded the sacred ground of discretion.

Donna continued dusting, but found herself drawn back to the case binder minutes later. Her insatiable curiosity was piqued. She put down her cleaning tools before taking a seat at Ken’s desk. Her hand hesitated, but she eventually opened the file. In it she found material related to a haunting criminal escapade. She was eager to talk with Ken.

Returning to her project, she continued for a time until she was satisfied Ken’s office had received a proper spring cleaning. Late in the afternoon, she headed for the kitchen to stir the beef stew she had prepared in the crock pot that morning. The aroma was inviting. She was in the middle of making a salad when she heard the garage door open. Ken was home earlier than usual.

She greeted him at the door between the kitchen and the garage. You’re early. What’s the occasion? she asked kissing him warmly before taking a lick of her crock pot stirring spoon to assess the flavor.

You! It’s not often you have such a long stretch at home, and quite frankly, I’m loving every minute of it. My, what smells so good?

Stew, Donna answered with a slight bow. Carole and Gavin are coming over early to have dinner with us before our card game tonight. They’re bringing dessert.

Perfect! Let me take a quick shower and then I’ll help you set the table, he threw over his shoulder as he headed for the bedroom.

It will be a warm evening. Maybe we can eat on the porch, she suggested.

Ken gave a thumbs-up signal as he headed quickly for the shower in the master bedroom.

Donna’s best friend was Carole Tandermann. Though there was nearly a twelve-year-age difference between the two women, they had clicked from Donna’s early childhood. Carole was the one who encouraged Donna to seek an education in psychiatry and later asked her to join her own psychiatric practice in South Carolina. That was where Donna’s career as a forensic psychiatrist took flight.

Carole’s husband, Gavin, was a former FBI agent and fifteen years older than Carole. The couple had been devoted to each other for nearly thirty years. Having no children of their own, years earlier they had informally ‘adopted’ Lacy Sue, her husband Saul Larson, and their then newborn, Mary. Prior to that, the little family did not have a connection to grandparents. It was a rescue orchestrated by the gods. Lacy Sue and Saul eventually added a set of twins they named Carole and Gavin, in honor of their defacto grandparents, an indication of the gratitude and honor Lacy Sue and Saul felt for the Tandermanns.

Just the year before, Gavin, thanks to Donna’s dogged endeavors, connected with blood relatives he never knew existed, and he was reveling in a new sense of belonging and heritage. The experience instilled in Gavin a keen interest in genealogy. Since then, he had become quite proficient in the research process.

After her retirement from psychiatry, Carole founded a successful business venture in Beans coffee cafés along the Grand Strand, the name given to a 60 mile stretch of coastal South Carolina. Carole, witty, fun, and endearing, never met a stranger, nor did any new coffee blend escape her notice.

Carole and Gavin arrived on time, bringing dessert. After dinner, Carole, with her usual wild and witty abandon, shared an encounter at the market earlier that day. "So…I’m paying for my groceries when the woman before me returned to the register complaining she had been charged incorrectly. She was quite loud and rude. I had noticed that as she was walking away with her cart, she dropped her receipt and quickly picked it up from the floor. There happened to be another receipt nearby and this is the one she picked up. Lo and behold! I would have thought her rant would evaporate when I fetched the other receipt, which was still on the floor, and asked her whether it was hers. After examining that receipt, she slunk away in utter embarrassment, never even apologizing to the poor cashier for her tirade.

The story doesn’t end there! On my way out to the car, I saw this woman again. This time while she is unloading her groceries, one of her bags spills out onto the parking lot…oranges, grapefruit, lemons, and apples, mind you! She is really irritated now, so irritated she is cursing as she gathers her fruit. When a vehicle exiting the parking lot unavoidably runs over one of her oranges, the woman responds by throwing a lemon at the vehicle! Wow! Beam me up, Scotty! I stayed in my car until she completely cleared the parking lot. That woman certainly needs lessons in anger management.

Welcome to my world, Ken quietly replied as he set up the table for their card game.

The others were temporarily silenced by Ken’s comment. A county detective for over twenty-five years, he had pursued the bad guys, given relief or condolence on multiple levels to victims when possible, all while facing significant challenges in his pursuit of the truth.

I sometimes forget, Ken, you are more than educated in the mindless ways of humanity, Carole said. Forgive me for my insensitivity.

No forgiveness necessary, Ken said as he busied himself dealing the initial hand. It is what it is, Carole. The misplaced soul is everywhere. It remains our job to recognize it in the context of accepted societal standards. Once someone breaks the standards, we are compelled to act.

Ken rarely spoke of his work, and even now he was couching his words. Gavin was the first to respond. I can’t imagine what you have witnessed.

Ken looked up from dealing. Enough to last a lifetime, I can assure you.

What keeps you going? Carole asked, her voice more subdued than usual.

A paycheck, for one! was Ken’s witty retort. The others laughed.

Really, though, Carole prodded.

Having dealt their hands, Ken sat back contemplating his answer. "The long and the short of why I do what I do is that I love people. Kind, caring, and innocent people. They are everywhere. They give when they can, they carry their burdens and they often act to protect one another. The kind and caring heart is in every neighborhood and on every street corner, but, unfortunately, they often go unrecognized.

The bad guy occupies the headlines, uses up endless tax dollars in the court system, remains a burden on society and, sadly, often wins because of unprincipled attorneys padding their bank accounts with amoral billable hours. These are the real enemies. The guys who look the other way to achieve a measure of wealth on the backs of the innocent. It’s a disgusting web of deceit. It is only when the little guy says, ‘I’ve had enough,’ that society engages.

Here, here! Gavin added. That’s when you come in.

You had your share of experiences when you were with the FBI, Gavin. I’m sure there is no shortage of stories you could tell.

Speaking of shortage, Donna interjected toward a more pleasant subject. We’re playing for pennies tonight. I hope I have enough. I raided our penny jar.

I brought ours as well. Can’t have enough pennies! Carole added jovially.

Oh….so we’ve graduated from M-&-M candies to pennies? Ken queried.

The girls looked at each other and giggled. Too many calories! Carole explained. Besides, you guys keep eating from the winnings!

I vote for M-&-M’s for the next game. Even when you lose the occasion is sweet, Gavin countered.

The card game ended with Carole winning the pot. It’s a dirty job, but someone has to do it, she said while drawing the mound of pennies toward her.

Spare us from looking so smug, Donna humorously returned.

Donna and Ken walked Carole and Gavin to the end of their driveway. The Tandermanns lived across the road.

Hey, I almost forgot, Carole said as they approached the road. The Landscape Yard is open for business and offering a spring sale. Gavin and I plan to visit in the morning. Care to join us?

Donna looked at Ken. He nodded in agreement. We’re planning on our usual spring and summer plantings. Yes…We will join you, Ken replied.

How about meeting us at 9:00 o’clock for breakfast? The Landscape Yard is just a block over.

Perfect! The weather tomorrow afternoon will be ideal for planting, Donna said.

***

Having selected their plantings after breakfast with Carole and Gavin, Donna and Ken spent the next afternoon gardening. Ken was usually in charge of the vegetable garden, while Donna oversaw planting annuals in the usual beds, though in recent years she leaned more toward perennials with annuals planted in between.

***

I can’t remember the last time we worked together in the yard, Ken yelled over from the vegetable garden to Donna, who was on the side of the house within earshot.

I love getting in the dirt. There’s something so balancing about it, Donna mused aloud.

Especially if Mother Nature cooperates with her magical rains, Ken returned.

They both went back to their tasks, each lost in thought. Donna finally broached the subject that had been bothering her since the day before.

I have a confession to make, she said, approaching Ken as he knelt over a tray of tomato plants.

Will I have to arrest you? he threw over his shoulder, still focused on his project.

That would be an adventure, Donna mischievously returned.

Ken turned to look at her and smiled. I’m already thinking of the possibilities.

Donna shook her head.

So, what’s this confession all about?

Yesterday, I discovered the case file on your desk and spent a good hour or more reading it.

He smiled broadly. You can’t help yourself, can you? he returned good-naturedly.

It’s a curse I’ll have to live with until the day I die.

I have a confession to make as well. I purposely left it on the desk knowing you wouldn’t be able to keep your hands off of it.

You didn’t!

"I did. I set