Notorious

by Allison Brennan

  She pulled away from Nick and walked down the terminal. She had to get away from Andy, from Nick, from everyone. She needed time to absorb the monumental screwup she was to have trusted people—again—that she should never have trusted.

  William. She loved him like the brother she’d never had. She didn’t see him as a killer. She couldn’t.

  But he’d lied. When she caught him in his lies, he could have easily made up another. Was she that easily fooled? Were her reporter instincts nonexistent when it came to her family?

  Several minutes later, Nick caught up with her.

  “Max, let’s sit down.”

  “No.” She paced. She didn’t care that people were looking at them, or that she’d created a scene. “I wanted the truth,” she said quietly.

  Nick steered her to a bench of seats as far away from the others as he could find. Max didn’t want to sit, but let him push her into the seat. “What did he say to you?”

  “He made the anonymous call to frame Kevin for Lindy’s murder.” As she said it she accepted it.

  “He admitted it?”

  Nick sounded surprised.

  “I knew it was him when I heard the dispatch recording. After the first day when there was a ruckus in the courtroom, the judge banished everyone. I was there that day, and the day I testified, and that was it. I never heard the tape before.”

  “You recognized his voice?”

  “No. It was something he said.” She closed her eyes and put her head in her lap, her fists clenched behind her neck. She felt queasy and sick and so angry. With herself and with Andy and with William. With everyone. She took a couple of deep breaths, then felt Nick’s hand on her back, rubbing in circles, slowly.

  She sat up. “He said that William killed Lindy and he moved her body from her clubhouse to the school pool.”

  “He could be lying—again—to protect himself.”

  “No. He really believes that William killed Lindy.”

  “What do you think?”

  “William swore to me he didn’t. But maybe—maybe they’ve all been lying to me my entire life and I can’t pick the truth from the lies.”

  “I’m going to have to talk to your cousin.” He almost sounded sorry about it. Or maybe that was just pity for her plight.

  She nodded. “He’s family, but if he’s guilty, he needs to pay for his crime. Lindy—what about her? Why weren’t they thinking about her? We were all friends, how could they throw her body into the pool—I just—” She stopped.

  “Max?”

  “Andy said something else—he said that there was a car in her driveway and someone was in the house. Or something like that—definitely he said he didn’t know who was home, and that’s why he didn’t put her body in her own pool. He didn’t want her discovered right away.”

  “What are you thinking? That there was someone else there?”

  “Well, right now, based on what Andy said, either he or William killed Lindy, and Andy definitely screwed with all the evidence. But if there was someone else there, who was it? Andy didn’t recognize the car. Her parents were in New York. So who?”

  She looked at Nick, her eyes wet, but she didn’t let any tears escape. She said, “Someone else was at Lindy’s house the night she died. Someone other than Andy and William.”

  “Are you going to be able to accept the truth if Andy Talbot is right?”

  “Right about what?”

  “That your cousin killed your best friend.”

  “He didn’t.”

  Nick caught Max’s eye and she saw compassion as well as intelligence. He was looking at the case as an impartial investigator. He didn’t know Andy, or William, or Kevin, or Lindy. He was looking at the facts and the statement of a witness.

  “William didn’t tell Andy he killed Lindy. Or even hurt her.”

  “But Andy believed he did.”

  “I know what you’re thinking—”

  “I have to look at the facts, Max. You do too. If William is guilty, are you going to be okay?”

  “What other choice to I have? But I owe it to William to find that piece of the puzzle. To prove, beyond a doubt, that he’s innocent.”

  Or prove that he’s guilty. But Max couldn’t say it out loud.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  The last people who Max wanted to see were the members of her family, but she had to tell her grandmother what Andy’s accusations against William were. True or not, they were serious and were going to be investigated.

  Eleanor wasn’t surprised to see her.

  “Chief Clarkson told me that Andrew Talbot was arrested for assaulting you. I see that it’s true.” She reached up and touched Max’s face. Her caress was almost gentle. “What happened?”

  “He hired someone, Grandmother. He didn’t do it himself.”

  “Is this all about that girl’s murder?”

  “Lindy. Her name is Lindy.”

  “Lindy has cut into our family, even in death.”

  “That’s not fair.” She hesitated. “May I come in?”

  “Of course.” Eleanor seemed surprised that she’d asked. “Maxine, this is your home.”

  She walked in and told her grandmother to sit. “I have something to tell you.”

  Eleanor didn’t argue. She sat. “What’s happening, Maxine?”

  “Andy accused William of murdering Lindy. He claims he found Lindy dead in her clubhouse and put the body in the pool to get rid of any physical evidence that may have implicated William, to protect him.”

  Eleanor didn’t speak. Like Max, she always had something to say; but like Max, this was throwing her.

  “You don’t believe that.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Maxine! This is your family.”

  “I don’t want to believe, but William lied to everyone, including the police when they questioned him about the last time he saw Lindy. It’s out of my hands.”

  “Is this—because of you and what you do?” The disdain in her voice was evident.

  “Grandmother, I don’t know where to begin. Andy has been acting suspicious from the minute I saw him. He’s been following me, and then he was about to board a plane to China after he hired a thug to steal Lindy’s diary. But that’s not all. Detective Santini got a copy of the anonymous 911 call that implicated Kevin. It was Andy. He made the call.”

  “Nonsense. Someone would have recognized his voice.”

  “It was muffled, he deliberately disguised his voice. It’s what he said, and I knew it was him. I asked him; he didn’t deny it. He intentionally framed Kevin for Lindy’s murder. Probably so the police wouldn’t dig into Lindy’s life, so they wouldn’t look harder at who she was sleeping with.”

  “What? Who?”

  “William! He admitted it to me when I confronted him about the ticket. It’s a mess, Grandmother.”

  “Andy told you this, not the police.”

  “That’s right.”

  “He won’t accuse William.”

  She sounded so positive.

  “Get William the best lawyer you can.”

  “Of course.” She said it as if it didn’t need to be said. “You shouldn’t have come back, Maxine. It seems you make a point of hurting the people you love.”

  Max didn’t want to be upset about what her grandmother said, but that hit her particularly hard. She straightened her spine and said, “I’m not sorry I did.”

  She didn’t know if she meant that. This truth, about her family, was hard to swallow.

  “Do you know what this is going to do to the family?”

  “You always said that Reveres are survivors with class. Grandad Sterling had nothing when he built his company, which he lost, and then he built another one. And Grandma and Grandpa Revere were among the wealthiest families on the East Coast and then lost everything in the Great Depression and had to start over with nothing. And Grandfather’s brother, Timothy?”

  Eleanor tightened her lips. “We don’t speak of him, God r
est his soul.”

  “But we survived. And we survived my mother leaving me here when you certainly didn’t need to raise another child.”

  “Maxine—I’m glad she did. The way she was living, it was no life for my granddaughter.”

  Maybe, but that wasn’t a point she was going to argue. Not now. “Whatever happens with William, the one thing you taught me is that you stick by family. If what Andy says is true, William needs to be punished—but not disowned. I love him, you know that.”

  “I know,” she said quietly. “Which makes this all the more difficult to understand why you would do this.”

  “Do what? Find answers? Give Mr. and Mrs. Ames peace of mind?”

  “Will they have peace? Lindy will still be dead.”

  Maybe she’d never get through to her grandmother. How Eleanor thought this way, Max didn’t understand. Max understood loyalty, but not to the point of letting a killer walk free.

  There was a pounding on the door that made Eleanor jump. Max said, “I’ll get it.” She walked across the foyer and looked through the side window.

  Detective Harry Beck, with two uniformed officers.

  She opened the door. “Detective.”

  “I thought you might be here, running to your well-to-do family.”

  “I don’t run,” she said.

  Eleanor rose from her seat and walked over. “Grandmother,” she said, “this is Detective Beck with the Menlo Park Police Department. Detective, my grandmother, Eleanor Sterling Revere.”

  “Ma’am,” Beck said with a nod, then told Max, “Maxine Revere, you’re under arrest for obstruction of justice, and a few other things I’ll think of once we have a chat.”

  “Absolutely not,” Eleanor said, stepping forward. “You’re not putting my granddaughter in jail.”

  “Yes, ma’am, I am.”

  “I’ll post your bail immediately, Maxine.”

  “Not until her arraignment tomorrow morning,” Beck said. “It’s after five. She’ll be spending the night in lockup. Should be fun, with the drunks and whores.”

  Eleanor paled.

  Maxine stared at the detective. “That’s my grandmother you’re speaking to.”

  Eleanor put her hand on Max’s arm. “I’ve heard worse, dear. I’ll call a lawyer. I can’t bear the thought of you being in prison.”

  Eleanor was sincerely worried about Max. Her grandmother was never one to show affection. A light kiss on the cheek in greeting, but no hugs, no spontaneous laughter or affection. But in this one moment, Max saw everything that Eleanor was. A matriarch. A grandmother. A survivor. Fear, love, and honor shone in her eyes.

  Max kissed her grandmother on the cheek and put her hands on her shoulders. “Thank you.” An odd response, perhaps, but Eleanor understood. She nodded and closed her eyes. Took a deep breath. And when she opened them again, the fighting Eleanor was back. “Call my producer Ben,” Max said. “He’ll contact my lawyer.”

  No matter what happened, they would survive.

  * * *

  Max returned to her cell after her phone call with Gia Barone, her attorney. Gia specialized in working with reporters and had gotten Max out of jail in the past.

  “The case is nothing,” Gia had said, “but the timing sucks. Arresting you after five. That’s just fucked. I’ve got a lawyer to come in for your arraignment if you need it, but I’ll get the charges dropped before then. I know a guy who plays golf with the DA and he’s telling him the case is fucked.”

  She loved Gia, the plain speaker.

  “So,” Max said, “what you’re really telling me is that I’m spending the night in jail.”

  “In a word, yes. But I’ll make their life hell.”

  “I appreciate that.”

  Max laid down on the cot. She wasn’t in a group cell, she was alone. She assumed Gia had arranged that. Max could hold her own with the “drunks and whores” as Beck had said, but it would make for a long night. At least now she might be able to sleep. If this cot wasn’t so damn uncomfortable.

  She sat up and her back cracked. She was too tall for the bed, but she was too tired to pace. She had no phone, no computer, no book, not even paper and a pen.

  She didn’t know what was going on with Andy, or William, or her grandmother. She hadn’t spoken to Nick since the airport. Was Andy already out on bail?

  She had a long night to think about her life. Her career, her family, her judgment.

  She must have dozed off at some point because she heard her name and she slowly struggled to sit up. She rubbed her eyes and smiled when she saw Nick.

  “You shouldn’t be here,” he said.

  “I’ve been in worse.” She glanced around. “And better.”

  “Contempt of court?”

  She sat up and stretched. “A couple of times. Once in Mexico. That was definitely worse than this.”

  “And you got out.”

  “It was a long time ago. Long before I had the show. I was a lot more reckless back then.”

  “More reckless?”

  She smiled but didn’t say anything. That week had been hell, and she never wanted to repeat it.

  “Your producer is a pit bull.”

  “I can handle Ben.”

  “He knows you’re in jail.”

  “I’m sure my attorney called him, since Gia is retained by the show and not me personally.”

  “She’s good. You’ll be out in the morning.”

  “Gia’s the best. Do not tell me that Ben is on his way here.”

  “No, but I realized when he called me multiple times that he doesn’t know what you’re doing.”

  “I told him it’s personal.”

  “Well, maybe you should retain Gia personally, because she works for him and everything she knows, he knows.”

  “Shit.” She should have seen this coming. Maybe that bump on the head was more serious than she thought.

  “However, I smoothed it over. But not before this guy David called me. He says he’s your personal assistant, but he doesn’t sound like an assistant to anyone.”

  “He’s more than an assistant.”

  “Boyfriend?”

  She laughed. “No.”

  Nick raised an eyebrow. “Well, he’s former Special Forces and didn’t pull any punches about what he thinks of you spending the night in jail. He’s definitely concerned about you, over and above being staff.”

  “David was originally hired to be my bodyguard during a trial I was covering in Chicago. There were threats, I didn’t take them seriously, but Ben did. And it wasn’t even connected to the trial, it was about the last book I wrote. I’m not an easy person to work for.” She ignored the humor that crossed Nick’s face. “David is extremely organized and has a knack for getting information. And he tolerates my eccentricities.”

  “Sounds like a match made in heaven.”

  “Nick, I’m not a saint, and I’m not a prude, but I don’t hit on a man when I’m involved with someone else.” She walked over to the edge of the cell. She didn’t touch him, she didn’t kiss him, but she wanted to. He saw it in her eyes, and she smiled.

  He said, “I wish I could get you out now, but we’re waiting for a judge. Beck lied to get his warrant, and I have to go to the issuing judge. He’ll be more receptive if I don’t wake him up.”

  “What’s happening with Andy?”

  “He has a lawyer, he’s not talking.” Nick hesitated, then said, “He made a statement to you. Are you using him as a source?”

  The way he said it told Max they still had some big issues with Nick’s animosity toward reporters. “Meaning, will I testify against him?”

  “I didn’t mean—”

  “Yes, you did. I understand. And I will testify. Tell him that. And, if you think it’ll help, I recorded our conversation. It’s saved to my cell phone.”

  “Well, that’s a call for the lawyers. I have no idea if they’ll allow it.”

  “I’m more concerned about William,” she admitted.r />
  “We haven’t arrested him, we haven’t even interviewed him yet. We have an agreement with his lawyer that he’ll come in for questions at our request. We have no evidence, only hearsay—basically what you said Andy told you. His attorney is one of the best criminal defense lawyers in California. Until we have physical proof, I don’t think I can arrest him. And based on what Talbot told you—he didn’t see your cousin kill Lindy.”

  He added, “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

  “I’ll be fine. Get some sleep. It seems we’re both going to have a busy day tomorrow.”

  He lightly took her hands in his, then frowned as he inspected her fingers. She looked down and realized she’d not only scraped off all her nail polish, but she’d also broken off the tips of all her nails.

  “Do you think I could get a manicure while I’m here?” She forced her voice to be light, but the pit in her stomach became heavier.

  “I’ll see what I can do,” he joked. He squeezed her hands, then let her go.

  Max watched Nick leave. She laid back down on the cot, but didn’t sleep again that night.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Max wrote in a small notepad she’d procured from the night guard. Writing kept her focused and not stressed about being in jail for the night. By the time Nick walked into the holding cell, just after seven that morning, she had drafted an article for the “Maximum Exposure” Web site about Jason Hoffman’s murder and investigation. There were still holes in the case, and they hadn’t caught the killer. And, if Andy or William really killed Lindy thirteen years ago, that meant their theory was wrong that whoever killed Lindy had also buried the unidentified body at ACP and killed Jason Hoffman. It didn’t make sense anyway—other than location, there was no connection between Lindy and Jason. Max still believed that Jason had been killed by whoever buried the girl among the trees. Two completely different cases connected only because of location.

  Nick handed Max coffee from Starbucks as soon as the guard unlocked her cell.

  “It’s what you ordered on Saturday, but full caffeine this time.”