True Betrayals

by Nora Roberts

  “What is it? Oh, God, not one of the horses. Justice was a little wheezy, but I dosed him the way Moses told me.”

  “It’s not one of the horses, Kelsey. Please, come in and sit down.”

  The stranger was back. That cool, controlled woman who had first invited her to tea. Baffled, Kelsey followed her through the doorway. “You’re angry with me about something.”

  “No, I don’t think ‘angry’ is the appropriate word.” She glanced over when Gabe came through the door. “It might be best if we discussed this privately.”

  “No, there’s nothing you can’t say to me in front of Gabe.”

  “All right, then.” Naomi walked to the window, faced out. She needed all her control now, all the self-reliance she’d had to learn to survive in prison. “You had a call while you were out. Gertie took the message. She left it on the desk in your room. I went in there a few minutes ago, to take in a guest list I’d been putting together.”

  Her face expressionless, she turned around. “I’ll apologize for reading it. It wasn’t intentional. It was simply there, and my eye fell on it.”

  “Why don’t you just tell me who called?”

  “Charles Rooney. The message was marked urgent. He wants you to contact him as soon as possible.”

  “Then I’d better see what it’s about.”

  “Please.” Naomi held up a hand. “After more than twenty years, I can’t believe it could be so urgent. You’ve been to see him.”

  “Yes, twice.”

  “For what purpose, Kelsey? Haven’t I answered your questions?”

  “Yes, you have. That’s one of the reasons I went to see him. Because you’ve answered my questions.”

  “And you?” She turned to Gabe, a flash of temper sneaking through the cracks. “You encouraged her in this?”

  “It wasn’t a matter of encouragement. But I understand.”

  “How could you understand?” she demanded, bitter. “How could either of you possibly understand? You can’t imagine what went through me when I saw his name on the desk. I’ve spent more than a decade of my life trying to forget. I made myself dredge it up again, relive it again. A payment, I thought—I hoped—to bring my daughter back. But it’s not enough?”

  “I didn’t go to see him to hurt you. I’m sorry I have. I went because I wanted to help, because I hoped I would find something that would change things.”

  “They can’t be changed.”

  “If he saw something that night he didn’t tell the police. If he held something back.”

  Stunned, Naomi sank to the arm of the sofa. “Did you think, really think you could find something to clear my name? Is that what this is about, Kelsey? A belated bath for the dirty family linen?” With a weak laugh, Naomi rubbed her eyes. “God. What possible difference could it make now? You can’t give me back one second of the time I lost. You can’t take away one whisper, one sneer, one sidelong look. It’s done,” she said, dropping her hands. “It’s as dead and buried as Alec Bradley.”

  “Not to me. I did what I thought was right. And if Rooney called me, there’s a reason. He didn’t want to talk to me today. He was nervous, maybe even afraid.”

  “Just leave it alone.”

  “I can’t do that.” She stepped forward, gripping Naomi’s cold hands in hers. “There’s more. What happened to Pride, and Reno. It’s so much like what happened all those years ago. Your horse, Benny Morales. It’s like this terrible echo that’s taken this long to catch up. And it hasn’t stopped yet. Even the police wonder if there’s a connection.”

  “The police.” What color remained in Naomi’s cheeks washed away. “You’ve spoken with the police?”

  Kelsey released her mother’s hands and stepped back. “I’ve been to see Captain Tipton.”

  “Tipton.” The shudder came before she could stop it. “Oh, God.”

  “He believed you.” Kelsey watched Naomi lift her head. “He told me he believed you.”

  “That’s bull.” Trembling, she sprang up. “You weren’t there, in that horible room with the questions pounding at you, over and over and over. No one believed me, certainly not Tipton. If he had, why did I go to prison?”

  “He couldn’t prove it. The photographs—”

  “Back to Rooney,” Naomi interrupted. “Do you really think you can turn this around? Discover some long-overlooked clue that proves I was defending my honor?” The hurt throbbed in her heart, in her voice. “Well, you can’t. And even if you want to help, you won’t be able to. Because I can’t survive going through it again. I just can’t.”

  She walked from the room and hurried up the stairs. Moments later they heard the sound of a door slamming.

  “What a mess.” Kelsey dropped into a chair, closed her eyes. “What a mess I’ve made of things.”

  “No, you haven’t. You’ve stirred things up. Maybe they needed to be stirred up.”

  “We’d come a long way. She and I had come such a long way, Gabe. I’ve ruined that.”

  “Do you really believe that?”

  “I don’t know.” She lifted her hands, then let them fall. “I started off telling myself I was asking questions for me. Because I had a right to know. Somewhere along the line I twisted that, convinced myself I was doing it for her. But I think I was right in the first place. I wanted to tidy it all up. Make it clean. If I believe her, everyone should believe her.”

  “That doesn’t make you a villain, Kelsey.” He crossed over and sat on the arm of her chair. “Tell me what you want to do.”

  She drew in a deep breath, expelled it. “I’m going to call Charles Rooney. I have to finish it.”

  They met him at a bar. Not a seedy, gin-soaked dive that might have added atmosphere to a clandestine meeting, but a plant-filled lounge that catered to white-collar professionals. Rooney had used every skill, every trick along his route to make certain he hadn’t been followed.

  When he saw them come in, he finished off his first gin and tonic. He was done, and knew it. He’d spent the hours since Rich Slater had left his office making plans to disappear. He had the knowledge, the contacts, and now, he had the motive.

  “Mr. Rooney.”

  “Sit down. I can recommend the house wine.”

  “Fine,” Kelsey said, and nodded to the hovering waitress.

  “Coffee,” Gabe ordered. “Black. You said urgent,” he reminded Rooney.

  “So I did.” He tapped his glass to indicate another. One more for the road, he thought. By morning, he planned to be sipping a mimosa in Rio. “I’m afraid I was a little rattled when I made that call. It was a day for unexpected visitors at my office. The last one was unpleasant. I’ve been an investigator for over twenty-five years. A long time. I’ve had a lot of interesting cases. I’ve never once discharged a weapon.” He gave the table two brisk knocks. “I enjoy my work, always have. It’s difficult to build up the right clientele. A certain class of people, the right class of people, generally don’t care to have an overt association with someone in my line of work. They hire us with the same kind of dismay and disgust that they hire someone to exterminate their roaches. They want the results, of course, but they rarely want to discuss the execution. There are some who prefer a more hands-on approach.”

  He paused as their drinks were served.

  “This is fascinating, Rooney,” Gabe commented, “but hardly urgent.”

  “Milicent Byden,” he said, and watched Kelsey’s mouth tighten. “She’s a woman accustomed to directing servants, giving orders, making certain they’re carried out to her specifications.”

  “We know she hired you to investigate Gabe.” Kelsey washed the bad taste out of her mouth with wine. “I hope you got a hefty retainer, Mr. Rooney. Believe me, she’s far from satisfied with the results.”

  “Tossed them back in her face, did you?” He found that amusing and chuckled into his drink. “Maybe there’s some justice in the world. She was satisfied with the results the first time she hired me. More than satisfied
.”

  “The first time?”

  “It was your grandmother who hired me for the custody suit.”

  “My information is that you were hired by my father’s lawyers.”

  “Her lawyers, Ms. Byden. You should remember they were her lawyers, too. And that’s the way she wanted it to shake down.”

  He took the lime wedge from his drink and squeezed the juice into the glass.

  “I’d done a job for an acquaintance of hers. Divorce. She must have figured I’d done a good one, a discreet one. And I fit the bill. Ambitious, still young enough to be impressed by who she was—who her husband was—and the size of her check.”

  He shrugged that out and dipped into the bowl filled with pretzels shaped like Chinese characters.

  “I don’t see that it makes a large difference where your retainer came from,” Kelsey commented.

  “Oh, but it did. I never even met your father. I saw him at the trial, but we never had a one-on-one. That’s the way your grandmother wanted it. And she was good at getting things done her way. She wanted your mother out, all the way out of his life, and yours. And she’d worked out a very simple plan to accomplish it. My job was to follow Naomi, take pictures, make reports. That’s all Milicent Byden told me. But I’m a good investigator, Ms. Byden. Even then I was good, and I found out more.”

  “More?” Kelsey felt that door creak open a little wider, and was afraid, very much afraid, of what she would see beyond it.

  “It’s easy enough to rub some elbows at the track. One of my sources had the goods on Bradley. Knew he’d played deep and was in debt to the wrong people. Bradley wasn’t good at keeping secrets, and he’d talked. Talked about the big deal he was working on. All he had to do was make time with a beautiful woman, and he’d be set. Bradley and my source got chummy. They didn’t run in the same circles, but they were cut pretty much from the same cloth. Bradley talked too much, my source put the arm on him for more, then passed the information on to me, for a fee.”

  “You’re taking a long time to circle around to the wire, Rooney,” Gabe said.

  “Then let me make it simple.” He loosened his constricting tie. “The custody suit was leaning toward Naomi. Courts don’t like to take a kid from its mother. Maybe she liked to party, maybe she liked men, but she didn’t fool with either when the kid was around. She had the money, and the means, and there were plenty of people willing to testify that she was a good mother, a devoted one. So, the Bydens needed something to tip the scales in their favor. Milicent found it in Alec Bradley.”

  “My . . .” Kelsey took a moment to steady her voice. “My grandmother knew Alec Bradley.”

  “Yes, she knew him, knew his parents. Knew his character. She hired Bradley to seduce your mother. To lure her into a compromising situation, the kind of situation that would make her appear anything but moral and maternal.”

  Beneath the table, Kelsey gripped Gabe’s hand. “You’re saying that my grandmother paid Alec Bradley. Paid him to—why should I believe you?”

  “You believe what you want.” Rooney didn’t give a damn. He was just clearing his desk, so to speak, before he retired. “You came after the answers, Ms. Byden. Don’t blame me if they don’t suit you. She gave him twenty thousand dollars, up front.”

  Kelsey made a small sound as the figure clicked.

  “The trouble was, Naomi wasn’t playing the game. Not the way Bradley and your grandmother wanted. She was keeping him on a leash. The way the custody suit was heating up, your grandmother needed action. So she found another element to stir into the mix. There was some trouble at the track. A dead horse, a dead jockey. The publicity on that boomeranged in the Chadwicks’ favor.”

  Gabe held up a hand. “Are you saying that’s connected?”

  “It’s all connected. Bradley needed cash, but Milicent was keeping her wallet slammed shut until he produced results. So Bradley and his pal at the track worked out a little deal. When the horse went down, Bradley picked up some loose change, but he didn’t get the bonus he’d hoped for when the sympathy went with Naomi. Milicent gave him a deadline.”

  Rooney studied what was left of his drink, debated indulging in another. With less than two hours until his flight, he opted to keep a clear head.

  “She told me to have my camera and plenty of film. To be outside the house. I went to the club first, and watched Bradley stage the jealousy scene.”

  “Stage?” Kelsey repeated.

  “It’s easier to see through an act when you’re not involved. Plus my source had alerted me. This was going to be the night. Bradley wanted to rile her. I don’t think he expected her to cut him loose. He thought too much of himself when it came to the ladies. When your mother left, I was right behind her. There was nobody else in the house. Not until Bradley got there. My instructions were to take pictures, but only pictures that weighed in on the side of the Bydens.”

  “Your instructions,” Kelsey said dully, “from my grandmother.”

  “That’s right. It looked promising at first, her opening the door in that nightgown, letting him in. They had another drink, and he was pouring on the charm. I got a good shot through the window of them kissing. I didn’t bother to take one of her shoving him away. That wasn’t my job. They started to argue. I could hear snatches through the window when she shouted loud enough. She was telling him to get out. That they were through. He grabbed her, pawed at her.”

  Rooney lifted his eyes to Kelsey’s. “There was a minute there when I thought about going in, breaking it up. She was in trouble. There was no way to mistake what kind of trouble. But I didn’t go in. I had my job to do. In any case, she fought him off. She was pissed, still more pissed than scared. She shouted at him, made a move for the phone, but he came after her again. I don’t think she had any doubt about what was going to happen. She ran.”

  Rooney paused, wiped a hand over his mouth. “He knew I was there. The son of a bitch knew I was there. He looked right out the window and he pointed, like this.” Rooney jerked a finger at the ceiling. “Upstairs, he was telling me. I’m going to take care of it upstairs. So I did what I’d been hired to do. I went up the tree. I couldn’t hear anything, not the way my heart was pounding. I didn’t let myself think. I had a job, a big one, one that was going to lead to a lot of others. And she’d asked for it, hadn’t she? That’s what I told myself. She’d asked for it, the way she’d been stringing him along.”

  “You knew he would rape her,” Kelsey managed. “You knew. And you did nothing.”

  “That’s right.” Rooney downed the rest of his drink. “She came into the bedroom, came running in. She was scared then, but she was mad, too. That filmy robe she’d been wearing was falling off her shoulder where it was torn. He came in after her, and he smiled. He looked friendly, even apologetic. The way they were framed in the window, facing each other, so completely focused on each other, with her clothes falling off, and the shirt of his tux undone. It looked provocative. Even sexy. I don’t know what he was saying to her, but she was shaking her head and backing up. He reached down, like he was going to unhook his pants. She slapped him.” Rooney moistened his lips. “I got that on film. He slapped her back. I didn’t take that shot.”

  He had to stop again. He hadn’t realized how going through that night step by step would affect him. Then he’d felt small, and scared. Now he simply felt small.

  “She made a dive. She was out of my view for a minute. He put his hands up. He was still smiling, but it didn’t look so friendly now. Then I could see her again, and I saw the gun.

  “I started taking pictures fast then. I was scared. I kept taking them after she shot him, even when there was nothing to see.”

  “It was self-defense.” Kelsey’s fingers dug into Gabe’s. “Just as she said all along.”

  “Yeah, it was. Maybe, maybe she could have held him off once she had the gun. But she was scared. She was trapped. If all the facts had come out, I don’t think they’d have charged her with so much as m
anslaughter. They sure as hell wouldn’t have convicted her.”

  “But the facts didn’t come out.”

  “No, I took them straight to Milicent Byden. I wasn’t thinking, going to her house in the middle of the night, getting her out of bed. She poured me a brandy herself, told me to sit down. Then she listened to what I had to tell her. From beginning to end. She said it had worked out for the best. She instructed me to wait a day or two before going to the police.”

  “She knew,” Kelsey whispered. “So, she knew everything.”

  “She orchestrated it. If Naomi hadn’t been arrested by then, I was to take the film to the cops and give my statement. I was to tell them what I saw, only what I saw, not what I assumed, not what I interpreted. Then she told me what I’d seen. A woman, provocatively dressed, welcoming her lover into an empty house. They shared a drink, an embrace. Then they quarreled. The woman was jealous. That was obvious after the scene at the club. She went upstairs, her lover following to make apologies, amends, perhaps a seduction. And in a jealous rage, the woman took out a gun and killed him. She gave me another five thousand cash that night, and the promise of several reference.”

  White-faced, Kelsey slid from the booth. With one hand pressed to her heaving stomach, she dashed toward the rest rooms.

  Gabe watched her go. He found that his fists were balled under the table. “You’re a revolting specimen, Rooney. A few thousand dollars and some fancy names on a client list. For that, you watched an attempted rape, then helped see that the victim was locked away.”

  “There’s more,” Rooney said. “We’ll wait for Kelsey.”

  “Tell me this. Why did you decide to come out with all of this now? A few hours ago you had nothing to say.”