by Lexi Whitlow
He went to confront my parents with this information. What was he thinking? If they’re willing to have someone with a violent history follow me and attack me – just to try to scare me into submission – what will they do to him? What are they really capable of? What depths will the desperate go to in order to keep their secrets?
Maddox is in danger, and so am I.
I try to call him again. No answer. Something is terribly wrong. He should have been back hours ago. I realize I need to leave before my parents catch up and realize I know what they’ve done.
I quickly pack an overnight bag and head toward the door. Just as I’m about to open it, my phone rings.
Maddox!
I check the caller ID before answering and see – to my horror – that the call is from my mother.
Do I answer? Do I just let it go?
No. Answer it. She’ll be freaking out by now. Play dumb and calm her down.
I swipe to answer, and put on my best sickly voice. “Hello.”
“Where are you?” Evelyn asks me, her voice brittle as tin.
“In bed.” I lie. “I’m still sick. I’m so sick.”
I hear her sigh. Is it relief? “Stay in bed,” she says, contriving a sympathetic tone. “I’ll stop by in a little while and bring you some hot and sour soup. Just get some rest.”
“Okay,” I say dreamily. “I will. I’m not getting out of bed until I have to throw up again.”
“I’ll be there very soon,” she assures me.
“Okay.”
I grab the report from the kitchen table, shoving it in my bag with my laptop and clothes.
“I’ll see you then, Mother. No need to hurry. I’m so tired. I’m going back to sleep.”
As soon as she hangs up, I bolt out the door without a backward glance. Once in the parking garage, I realize that Maddox has taken the Range Rover. I have no transportation. Now what?
Ordinarily this would cause me to panic, but clarity is useful in times of great stress. I take a deep breath, gather my thoughts, and consider my options.
Ella works nine blocks away at a local gallery. My parents have no idea where she works, as they’ve never shown the least bit of interest in my ‘artsy friend.’ I don’t think they even know her last name.
I heft my bag on my shoulder and start walking. Ella will help me sort through all of this, at least until I can find out what the hell my parents have done with Maddox.
Chapter 22
Maddox
I don’t wait for Evelyn Thomas’ Rottweiler of a secretary to announce me. I blow past her like she’s a ghost, with her nipping at my heels, barking.
As I barge in, I find Evelyn sitting behind her desk like she’s the Queen of England. The expression on her face when she first see’s me is best described as bemused, but it shifts quickly to outraged indignation when I ask her – without any preamble – who the hell Duane Robin Abbot is, and why she’s paying him to stalk people – including their daughter.
The Rottweiler secretary says, “I’m getting General Thomas and calling security.” She disappears.
Evelyn Thomas glares at me.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I have no idea who you’re talking about.”
I drop a copy of the report on her desk.
“Your senate page, going back ten years,” I say. “You’ve paid him $200k and change in the last six months. Do you pay that kind of money to people you’ve never heard of? Do you let them into your offices? Into your events? I have photographs of your husband talking to him at the Scarlet Huntington event. They looked like they knew one another pretty well.”
She blanches.
“You’re beyond your depth, Maddox.”
I turn. Richard Thomas is standing behind me, flanked by Dan Diamond and another one of their thuggish security guys.
“Am I?” I ask. “Fine. Just tell me why? Why would you have a guy like Abbot follow Avery? Why did he assault her? And why did you let him in to the Fairmont and the other events after you knew he hurt her? Explain it to me like I’m a six-year old. ‘Cause I can’t wrap my head around it.”
General Thomas turns to Diamond and the other guy, waving them off. They retreat from the office, closing the door behind them, leaving just the three of us in what feels like a stand-off.
Evelyn looms behind her desk like a pillar, immobilized, un-blinking.
General Thomas takes two confident steps toward me, his face a mask of arrogant superiority. I’m reminded of the first night I gave into him.
“Avery doesn’t always grasp what her purpose is. Sometimes she needs to be reminded, and reminded just how tenuous her situation is. Some people are motivated by money. Some by ambition. And some are motivated by fear. Avery’s the latter. We only had Abbot remind her of everything she needs to be frightened of, and just how small she is on the spectrum of things that actually matter.”
He gave me a satisfied smile.
“And it worked. She’s gotten in line. She’s behaving herself. And she’s serving her purpose.”
“Her purpose is to serve you?” I ask, feeling my heartbeat pick-up, my vision narrowing. “To help you two achieve your political ambitions?”
“What else could it possibly be?” General Thomas asks me, shrugging. “Evelyn and I both knew, very early on what it was we wanted to accomplish in our lives. It was necessary to have a family – a child – to look the part; to be convincing. Avery’s always been part of the larger strategy. And one day, she’ll carry it...”
I don’t wait for him to finish. I’ve heard enough. The blow I deliver to his smug face is as explosive and unexpected as it is devastating. I feel his jaw pop as my fist punches in deep, displacing flesh and bone. I catch him from below with a follow-up left hook, rocking his head back violently. He drops like a sack onto the hard floor at my feet – out cold.
I swing around to Evelyn Thomas, considering doing similar violence (in opposition to every rule I ever manufactured in my mind about never hurting a woman), but before I can reach her, Dan Diamond and at least five other guys are on me, dragging me down to the floor, kicking me, pummeling me with fists.
I give as good as I get – generally speaking – but when all is said and done, I’m in cuffs, surrounded by San Francisco PD, being read my rights, as EMTs work on Richard Thomas, trying to get him to wake up.
The police haul me downstairs and duck me into a patrol car, then drive me to City Hall for booking.
At the county lock-up, they take my keys, my belt, my wallet, and my cell phone. They put me in a cage with seven other guys who all look like they’re tweaking on something nasty that’s going to kill more brain cells than they can afford to spare.
“You got one phone call, Bryant. Make it worthwhile,” the Bull says, when my paperwork is finally processed.
I know that Avery is at her apartment, probably reading the report and having a panic attack. I also know she can’t help me, and right now, I’m no good to her. I know of only one person I can turn to in a situation like this. I ask them to pull the number from my cell, and once I have it, I get on the phone and call First Lieutenant Lucas Salvatore. He picks up on the first ring.
“Salvatore,” he says.
“Boss, it’s Bryant. I’m jammed the fuck up and I need your help, post haste.”
He may have anticipated this call based on the fact that I emailed him at six this morning, sent him the report, and told him I was going to the Thomas’ to confront them with the intelligence.
“What did you do?”
* * *
Twenty-four hours later Lucas Salvatore is standing beside me, along with an attorney named Webster hired to represent me at my arraignment hearing. The judge looks at me and Salvatore, at the charges against me, and then she looks over her glasses at the three high-priced attorneys at the other table.
“By the looks of all this, everyone here wants this to go away quietly,” she says. Her face looks as pinched and superior as Evelyn Tho
mases.
She’s in their pocket. Of course.
“Mr. Bryant, General Thomases council has requested a mediation meeting before we proceed to formally filing charges. Are you amenable?”
“We are ma’am,” my attorney replies without consulting me.
The fuck I am. I glare at him. He shoots me a look that tells me to shut the up.
Twenty minutes later I’m in a room with the suits. Apparently only one of them speaks. The others are just there to add color. The Thomases have a deal.
“One hundred thousand dollars, plus six thousand per month for the next five years. All you have to do is go away. Leave the Bay Area. Do not contact Avery Thomas, and do not respond to any attempts she makes to contact you. Start a new life. Agree to keep what you know about Robin Abbot to yourself. No contact with the press or anyone else on the matter.”
The man slides a piece of paper in front of me. It’s a contract.
“Mr. Bryant, that’s almost half a million dollars. It’s very generous.”
“Fuck off,” I respond.
He draws in a deep breath. “If we move ahead with assault charges, you’ll face prison time. Richard Thomas’ jaw is broken and his skull was fractured. Attempted murder isn’t out of the question.”
“Fuck off,” I repeat.
He turns his attention to my attorney. “Will you discuss this with your client, Mr. Webster? Talk some sense into him? We’ll give you fifteen minutes.”
They leave the room, leaving me with Salvatore and my lawyer, who – as soon as the door closes – grins at me like a giddy kid.
“Fuck off?” he says, entertained with my choice of words. “You pick interesting enemies.”
“They can fuck off. I’m not about to leave Avery to them. I’m not about to let them...”
He raises his hand, shushing me.
“Of course not.” He replies. “They’re awful. And the offer they’ve made...” He pops his finger on the contract like he’s popping the flippers on a pinball table. “… it isn’t worth the recycled paper it’s printed on. You can sign it – but it’s unenforceable. It actually puts in print a confession of at least some of their misdeeds.”
He grins at me. “In fact, I think you should sign it, so we can get their signatures on it – Mr. & Mrs. Thomas’ – and then take that, along with your interesting little report, to the U.S. Attorney Generals office. It’s blackmail, pure and simple. It’s illegal, not to mention highly unethical.
“Signing it will get you out of here a lot faster, and it will put them off their guard. Just don’t cash their checks. You’ll have to find another way to pay me for my expert legal advice.”
I look to Salvatore for guidance. He nods and shrugs. “You have nothing to lose.”
That much is correct. I have nothing to lose – except Avery. Every hour that passes puts her farther and farther beyond my reach. For all I know, by now her parents have already turned her against me completely.
“I’ll handle the AG’s office.” Webster says. “Let’s get you out of here.”
Webster calls the other lawyers back in, then explains that I’m willing to accept all the terms offered, on the single condition that both Richard and Evelyn Thomas sign the documents themselves.
“I think we can arrange that.” The lead attorney agrees. “They’re both anxious to put this issue to bed.”
I bet they are.
* * *
When Lucas lets me use his phone, I call Avery. On her cell. And then on the landline her parents insisted she have in her apartment.
And then I check my own phone when the jailer hands it to me. The message she left on my voicemail sounds calm, like she understands everything and she has a plan. Like she’s resigned to it. My stomach drops. Every word she says indicates that she’s finally going through with the plan. She’s taking that goddamn passport, and she’s leaving.
Lucas surveys the look on my face and punches me in the shoulder. “That girl got the fuck out of dodge, didn’t she?”
“Yeah,” I say, sighing. I haven’t even been released from prison officially, and I’m already trying to figure out if she went north, south, or booked a flight to the fucking Caribbean.
“Women, man,” Salvatore says. “Guess you better get the hell out of here and figure out where she went. Easy as pie, right?”
I nod. “Yes sir. Easy as fucking pie.”
“You give me a call when you get wherever it is you’re going, Bryant. I need a man like you on board when I retire.”
“And I’m happy to have you, sir,” I say.
Salvatore claps me on the shoulder and walks outside while I sign all the papers that will set me free. He’s a good man — far better than General Thomas. Salvatore is a marine truly deserving of his rank.
The Thomases might think I’m out of their daughter’s life for good — but there’s no way I’m letting her get away this time.
Now all I have to do is figure out what her plan is and track her down.
When it comes to Avery, all roads lead to and from Ella. So that’s exactly where I’m planning to start.
Chapter 23
Avery
It’s hilarious that the instructions say “Wait five minutes”. It takes less than thirty seconds before the plus sign pops up in neon-bright magenta inside the little plastic window of the pregnancy test. Amazing that you can dribble pee on a plastic stick, and a few minutes later, the entire course of your life as you imagined it takes a hard left turn.
I walk out of the bathroom, plastic stick in hand. I wave it at Ella.
“Ella. I think there’s something you might want to see.” I sit down in one of the chairs across from her and put the pregnancy test on her table.
She’s buried in the report, her eyes as big around as saucers. She ignores the evidence in my hand as she looks up from the papers and says, “Girl, your mother and father are evil. Walking, talking, fire-breathing, evil mofo’s.”
I know.
I slide the stick towards her. “You’re exactly right, Elle. And there’s this.”
I didn’t think her eyes could get any wider, but she surprises me.
“Oh shit.”
That’s one way to put it.
“It won’t take my parents long to find me,” I say, ignoring the blaring plus sign for now. “My cell phone account is in their name. They’ll pull some strings, search my call log, track it to you, then track my GPS. It’s a matter of hours, not days. I need to move on, or become their Stepford spawn. And they’ll have try to control this, too.” I gesture to the test and look at Ella with wide, frightened eyes.
“Fuck that,” Ella says defiantly. “Fuck that altogether.”
“I don’t know what I’m going to do.”
“Does Maddox know?”
“No,” I say. “He doesn’t.”
“Are you going to tell him?”
“Yes. But — I have no idea where he is. He just disappeared.”
“What are your parents going to do to you?”
“I don’t know,” I say flatly. “I’m not sure what they’re capable of.” I swallow bile, and I put my hand to my belly, as if protecting the fluttering life inside of me. “Especially when they figure out I know about the stalker shit.”
“They won’t hurt you, will they?”
“No.” I pause. “I’m not entirely sure. I don’t think so. But I really don’t know what they’re going to do with Maddox. I can’t reach him. He’s just … gone.” I swallow hard, choking back emotion. “With me — they — I don’t think they’ll let me keep this baby.” My words barely come when I say it, and tears stream down my cheeks. “And I want this baby, Ella.”
“I don’t think they can force you to — you know.”
“I’m not sure what they think they can do,” I respond. “They had me beat up to garner sympathy from their voters. They can freeze my trust. Stop payments on my apartment.”
“Well, I have a plan,” Ella says. “It’s not m
uch of one. But it is something. I have a car, and it’s a piece of shit, but you can make it to Vancouver. I’ve got a friend at the border who can get you across. You just need a burner phone, and I’ll give you my passport. It’s an old ass picture. Looks enough like you to pass. And hang on —”
Ella sighs and scrolls through her phone. She pulls up a number on her cell and waits while it rings. When the call is answered she starts talking fast.
“Aunt Bebe. It’s Ella. I need a favor. It’s for Avery. You said if she ever… Yeah. She needs us… Yeah… Bebe… She needs to be away from here, way out of her parents reach… And there’s more...”
I listen as Ella details my sordid family situation. It all sounds so much worse off of the paper. I have no idea what my parents have done with Maddox. I’m not sure what they’re up to with my stalker — and I don’t want to wait around to find out.
Ella presses a piece of paper into my hand. “This is Aunt Bebe’s number. You can stay with her when you get to Vancouver.”
I look at her and nod. “It’ll be good to get out of dodge. I’ll withdraw whatever cash I can get from my account.” I smile weakly. “I like Vancouver.”
I try Maddox’s phone again, and send an email to a defunct account of his, hinting at where to find out more information. I note to myself that it might not even be wise to have a burner phone, and instead I opt just to take only my laptop and a bag of clothes.
No, I don’t know what my parents might do.
I only know they’ll do everything in their power to control my body, this pregnancy, and this kid.
And I’m fucking done with every part of their bullshit.
I tuck the evidence away in my backpack, and I start making a mental list of any media outlet and political blog that might be interested in what my mother and father have been up to.
An hour later I’m driving alone in Elle’s beat up, ancient Honda Civic hatchback, feeling only slightly nauseous. I’m headed north – to Vancouver. It’s a long drive ahead of me, but I have to do it. I have to put as much distance between me and my sociopath parents as I can. They were willing to risk hurting me, their only child, for their ambition. I let them control and intimidate me. But I will not let them put this baby inside me at risk. This child is not theirs to screw with and use. This kid – if I have anything to say about it – is going to know what unconditional, no-strings-attached, love really is. I’m not going to let my parents and their ruthlessness damage another soul.