“No”, he said reluctantly. “Not today.”
Leighton shook his head. “This is a farce, and you know it. Gracey’s being set up. Whatever Pandora and Isabella and Alexis say, it’s bullshit. They are covering each other’s backs.”
“With all due respect, Mr. Tempest, have you really known Gracey long enough to make that statement? You talk about whether having parents are important, and by all accounts, you got off lightly. Philip was an absolute monster to those girls, and Gracey had every motive in the world to want the man dead.”
“Just because he was a bad father, it doesn’t mean Gracey wanted him dead, and even if she did, that doesn’t mean she killed him.”
“That may be for a judge to decide.”
“What do you think?”
“I’m a police officer, Mr. Tempest, I believe in facts. Facts don’t have emotions, they just are.”
“You are free to go, Leighton, you realize that? That is what you said, Detective, yes?” came the slightly broken message from one of the legal team.
“He’s free to go, but I might ask that he stay somewhere we can get to him quickly.”
“I hope you’ll be hauling Pandora in here”, Leighton said. “She’s obviously trying to set me up.”
“I’ll speak to Pandora again, don’t you worry.”
“Thank you for wasting my time.”
Leighton stood up, collected his coat from the back of the chair and clicked his mobile phone off. Detective Foster looked up to him, his face expressionless.
“What will you do with Gracey?”
Detective Foster sighed. “That, to a certain degree, is out of my hands completely. It’s likely that she’ll be charged in the next day or so. I’ll write up an arrest report and the prosecutor will take it from there.”
“And in the meantime?”
“She’s under arrest Mr. Tempest.”
“So was I until about five minutes ago.”
Detective Foster rolled his eyes. “It won’t take me a minute to put you back under if you’re changing your statement.”
“So I tell you I’m innocent and you believe me, yet when Gracey says it, it makes no difference.”
“I thought you were leaving”, Detective Foster said.
“I don’t even know why I came in the first place.”
Leighton started for the door.
“Don’t leave town, Leighton.”
Foster nodded to his sergeant to open the door.
“Believe me”, he said before leaving. “I’ll be here until you arrest the right Logan.”
Chapter 27
Gracey’s interview had lasted just over six hours. After that, she was placed in a holding cell and denied access by visitors. After his own interview, Leighton got confirmation that Gracey was in the same station and then waited patiently in the entrance hallway for her to come out, only to be swamped in the interim by scoop-hunting journalists that had somehow got hold of the story. After they were evicted, and huddled together outside waiting, Leighton was greeted by the lawyer he had managed indirectly to put in place for her, who told him flatly that she wasn’t going to be released tonight. Furious and tired, he tried to push his way past a wall of police officers towards her holding cell, only to be told firmly, that if he didn’t remove himself from the police station immediately, he would be arrested again, and charged with creating a public nuisance.
Alex Dibbell, the lawyer that his legal team had contacted, who had spent less than half of the police interview with Gracey after driving three hours to get there, filled him in on the details, and what he should expect from now on.
There was a consistency to the questions that Gracey had been asked, and a reflection of that consistency in the responses she gave. No matter what they said that she had done, no matter how much they pushed her for a confession, or taunted her with what they considered to be evidence so strong it could keep her in prison for years, Gracey maintained her innocence. She said little before the lawyer arrived, and with his advice, hardly anything after it.
Gracey would be charged as soon as the prosecutor could view the case. With the evidence they were presenting, it was almost certain it would go to court. If Gracey wasn’t offered bail, which might not be the case considering the severity of the charges she faced, she would be put in prison until the case could be heard. That could be anything between six weeks and six months, depending on the various schedules of the numerous different people involved. Leighton’s legal team would do everything they could to get bail posted, but Leighton was told to prepare himself for the very real possibility that that might not happen. A bribe, in this case, would not be the most intelligent path to follow either, so they just had to hope for a lenient prosecutor. Alex didn’t tell Leighton this, but he knew them all, and most were reactionary pricks.
“Go home, Leighton”, Alex said. “You’ve done all you can. She’s a little shook up but she’s fine. We’ll see what we can do about getting bail posted, other than that I’ll get someone to cast doubt on those tests. It’s pretty much hanging on that. No evidence, no court case. Gracey was with him before he died, but she says she didn’t kill him. She’s pretty adamant about that.”
“Just get her out of there as soon as you can.”
“You’re pretty sweet on her, huh?” Alex said. “I can see the appeal.”
“Your job, Alex”, Leighton said, before turning up the collar on his coat, fighting his way to his car, and pushing a photographer onto his ass on the way.
***
Esmeralda hadn’t exactly meant to read it all, but it hadn’t exactly been that hard to put down either. It started out as a way of getting back at her itinerant boss, and turned into a plan to win him back from whoever it was that he’d happened to fall in love with, either by fair means or foul. That, she hadn’t quite decided yet.
She figured correctly that the object of his affection was Gracey, the girl who was all over the front page of Baltimore Sun, based on what was turning into an obsession to get her released from prison, but couldn’t for the life of her work out why. As far as Esmeralda could see, there was nothing special at all about the thin lipped, slightly quirky looking potential murderess. She was pretty, in a sort of odd, classical way, if that was the kind of thing you went for, which was what surprised her the most, because it wasn’t at all what Leighton usually did go for. Gracey looked like she wouldn’t say boo to a ghost. It was Pandora that seemed like the most likely candidate, perhaps even Isabella, but definitely not Gracey. Had Esmeralda not heard it in his voice when he said her name, she would have been completely convinced that it was someone else entirely.
She skimmed through the newspaper, which had very little to say about what was going on, apart from the fact that it seemed like an open and shut case, and a full and frank confession from Gracey was expected. Leighton got a mention as being arrested and subsequently released due to conflicting testimony. It seemed that the only reason the story had got out at all, was because Pandora was the one responsible for releasing it. Three pages were dedicated to an all exclusive interview, in which she supported her claims of seeing Leighton at the house. Esmeralda couldn’t believe the audacity nor the stupidity, but it paled in comparison to what she had read in the letter from Philip to Leighton.
It was an absolute revelation to her. She knew little about Philip beyond what Leighton had told her, and the man she saw through the words was nothing like the man she imagined. Not only did he not want to give Leighton up at all, he’d struggled for his whole life with the decision he’d made. But the most surprising revelation of all to Esmeralda, was the fact that Leighton’s mother was still alive. As mad as a box of frogs, but still alive. It was like reading a best seller.
Esmeralda wasn’t entirely sure what she wanted to do with the document. She had half a mind to keep it from him completely, but then figured it wouldn’t be a worthwhile punishment if he didn’t know he was being punished. If she gave it to him, he’d learn the trut
h about his mother and father, about the years he was being watched and the crippling sensation his father had when faced with the inability to resolve a situation he had little control over in the first place, which wasn’t necessarily such a bad thing. Leighton had always denied wanting to know those things, so maybe making him discover them was the best way to get her own back. Also, if he read the document and was pleased that he’d been given the opportunity to do so, Esmeralda stood to gain the credit for getting it to him. She’d just have to somehow cover up the fact that she’d spent half the night reading it.
***
Journalists swamped the Chesapeake Estate, taking photos of the three Logan girls, the room where the murder was committed, and Gracey’s bedroom, which had been crudely barricaded off with police hazard tape. Alexis posed, smiled sweetly and answered all the questions that were put to her with gusto. It had been Pandora’s idea, and it had been a brilliant one. Alexis made sure to wear one of her most expensive dresses, load up on gin, and lock the dog away in one of the garden sheds for fear it might rudely interrupt her moment in the limelight. Pandora was as bad as her mother, soaking up all the attention that was given to her, flirting outrageously with the muscled photographer and taking great pleasure in showing off Gracey’s room and her own. Isabella involved herself as much as she needed to, not to court too much attention. She corroborated Pandora’s story, but said little else about that fateful evening. She hadn’t found the body after all, and only knew what had happened when the police come over one night to take them all to the station. As far as she was concerned, Gracey could rot in hell. She wasn’t fond of her stepfather, but she wasn’t close to her sister either. She made pains to point out that Gracey had often mentioned that she’d be happier if Philip were dead, even though Isabella never thought she’d actually go ahead and do it herself. Pandora and Alexis were less inclined to comment. They said they were happy to leave it in the hands of the police.
“If Gracey is guilty, then she is no daughter of mine”, Alexis said. “I loved my husband, even though he never realized it.”
“What I can’t understand is why Leighton hasn’t been charged”, Pandora chipped in. “It makes me sick to think he’s been here.”
Journalists were camped outside Leighton’s hotel too, desperate to get to the billionaire before he disappeared into his penthouse suite, but he managed to bully past them without giving so much as a word.
Neither Leighton nor Gracey could sleep that night. Gracey tossed and turned on the paper thin mattress she’d been provided, while Leighton spent half the night talking to his legal team, the other half researching exactly what awaited her. The only piece of good news he could find, was that Maryland didn’t have the death penalty.
Chapter 28
Gracey woke with a start, when one of the attending officers brought her a thick porridge that looked like wallpaper paste, a glass of dirty water, and a cold coffee, banging on the door to get her attention. He didn’t quite slide it through a flap in the door, but it certainly wouldn’t have been out of place, based on the night she’d had.
Six hours in the interview room and six more of broken sleep, her only distraction from what was going on, the incredible moment of passion she’d shared with Leighton. That already seemed like a million years ago. For all she knew Leighton was locked up in the cell next to her. She thought she’d heard his voice in the middle of the night, but it could equally have been a dream.
“I thought we were in the twenty first century”, Gracey said, rubbing her sore neck and looking disappointedly at the breakfast tray.
“This isn’t a hotel”, the ward sergeant remarked. “And I made that myself so don’t be getting all catty on me.”
Gracey lifted a spoonful of porridge into the air, grimaced and then pushed the tray to the side. She’d rather go hungry than risk being poisoned. The irony made her laugh.
“Suit yourself”, the sergeant said. “It might be a long time before lunch.”
“Can you tell me what’s going on, please?”
“I’m just the desk sergeant, and I only just got in. If you weren’t all over the TV, I’d have no idea what you’d done. Someone’ll be along later to fill you in on what happens now. You better get used to the wait, maybe the space too. I have a feeling that you’re going need a lot of patience moving forward.”
“Wait”, Gracey said, but the door was already closing. “I didn’t do it, I keep telling them.”
“Patience”, was all the desk sergeant said before the huge locks clunked into their bay.
Gracey sat back on her fold-out bed, defeated. There was nothing she could do but wait. That and hope that Leighton would find her.
***
Leighton could see the journalists from the windows above, swarming around like a pack of hungry wolves. The story had been all over the morning TV news, where snippets of an interview with Pandora were played alongside sweeping images of the Chesapeake estate, and promises of a full and exclusive update later on in the afternoon. He had managed to get copies of the newspapers delivered to his room, which now sat spread out across the bed. Each one covered in conjecture masquerading as truth.
That was exactly what he intended on spending the day changing. After only a few seconds of waiting, the phone was picked up.
“911, what is your emergency?”
Leighton cleared his throat. “I have trespassers in my house, and they are refusing to leave.”
“What is your address please, Sir?”
The journalists in the street drank coffee and waited. Leighton made his voice tight.
“2742 Gulls Pike Avenue, Baltimore, 21224.”
“Do you feel threatened, Sir?”
“Yes. Please send someone as soon as you can.”
“Ok, bear with me, I’ll have a unit dispatched as soon as possible. Would you like to stay on the line until they arrive?”
“No, that’s not necessary, thank you.”
Ten minutes later, Leighton was once again fighting the crowds of journalists on the way to his car.
When he arrived at the house, two police cars were already there to greet him, along with a pair of confused officers and a very pissed off mother and daughter, still in their dressing gowns.
Leighton’s breath condensed in the air. “I am the legal owner of this property”, he said, handing the police officers the titles of deed. “This family have been trespassing here for the last week without my consent. It’s time for them to leave.”
“Murderer”, Pandora shouted, even though she was still eyeing him up.
“Fuck off back to New York”, Alexis added, the first of the day’s cigarettes in her mouth. Around them, a hastily woken news team filmed the scene as it broke.
The two police officers looked at each other. Pandora and Alexis looked at each other. Isabella looked at them all from her bedroom window.
“Come on”, one of them said, turning to the women. “I reckon it’s time to get your stuff.”
“This is my house”, Alexis shouted, “And that man killed my husband.”
She pointed her cigarette at him viciously. “He should be in prison.”
“A statement please, Leighton.”
One of the journalists thrust a microphone at Leighton, equally viciously.
“You’re going to turn these people out on the street?” said another. “That’s not very humanitarian of you, is it?”
There was pandemonium. Alexis and Pandora refused to leave and the police officers didn’t feel comfortable attempting to eject them, especially not when it was all being broadcast live on TV. They were conscious of making sure they did the right thing, and completely unsure what that thing should be. In the end, they phoned for back up, and specific advise on how best to handle the situation.
“A comment, please, Mr. Tempest.”
“Is it true your net worth is in the region of sixteen billion dollars?”
“Let them have their house, Leighton. Haven’t you alread
y got enough?”
“Did you kill Philip Mandrake De Vries, Leighton? Did you kill your father?”
“Please”, Leighton said eventually. “This is a difficult time for everyone. I have decided to move into Chesapeake Estate and use it as my base of operations for the foreseeable future. If the Logan family were to remain, it would be a conflict of interest.”
“Are you having an affair with your stepsister?”
The question rang in Leighton’s ears.
“He fucked her”, Pandora said, her face turned into a snarl. “I saw them.”
“Disgusting”, Alexis added. “Your own flesh and blood.”
Leighton hung his head. Alexis was intelligent enough to know that they two of them were not related in any way, she was just being intentionally inflammatory.
“This isn’t going to look good, Leighton. Accused of conspiring to kill your own father, now ejecting your new family out onto the streets. An affair with your stepsister, it’s positively Shakespearean.”
Leighton turned to the police officers. He could see more flashing lights coming up the drive.
“Enough”, he said. “This is private property. Do your job and remove them.”
“I am not going anywhere”, Pandora protested, while Alexis stormed inside, desperate to get to the drinks cabinet and fill up a holdall bag with gin before the police dragged her away from her former property, kicking and screaming.
That was essentially what they had to do, and it took six police officers to put into action. They were threatened with arrest, almost handcuffed and then finally convinced to leave of their own accord based on the negative consequences if they didn’t, and the fact that it actually looked so much better on TV if they did. To facilitate the process, the three girls were loaded into the back of a police car which gave the impression they were actually being arrested, Isabella the only one amongst them happy to go quietly.
When they had finally been removed, Leighton turned his attention to the journalists that had somehow remained. He asked them kindly to leave, which they responded to with a barrage of questions of their own. Eventually they had to be escorted to the perimeter of the property by the police, where the huge gates that Pandora had been more than happy to open to them last night, were slammed in their faces and locked.
Charged: A Stepbrother Romance Novel (With FREE Bonus Novel Heated!) Page 14