by Suzanne Ruby
“Hi there. I’m trying to reach Madison Kelly. Is she working today?”
“You wanna talk to Madison?”
Not really.
“Yes. Is this her brother?”
“Yes, ma’am. Who are you, and what is it you need? Not to sound rude, but no one ever asks for Madison.”
“I’m Kirby Montgomery. Channel 53. I need to ask her a few questions, off the record.”
A deep sigh flooded the phone line.
“Oh, boy. What did she do now?”
* * *
AFTER THE MEETING with Lydia and the guys, Adam felt like going straight home and taking a hot shower. Yeah, he’d known what was going on, but he hadn’t realized the extent of it.
He had a full night of clients to face. Could one of them be the alleged reporter? He was grateful for having a modicum of sexual self-restraint when it came to work.
He hadn’t welcomed Kirby’s confession regarding her career ambitions, but now it felt downright intrusive. He took some comfort in assuming she wouldn’t have mentioned it if she were working on a story about the club. Maybe he could chalk this up to yet another coincidence.
Besides, he’d been looking forward to seeing her since the moment she’d driven away. Problem was, they’d already arranged to meet at the club, and he couldn’t let that happen. Especially now.
Fabian headed his way, acting none too surprised about anything they’d heard.
“Really? Someone left a deposit on a sofa?” Adam asked as soon as Fabian was within earshot.
“Apparently. That’s disgusting, even by my standards. Then there’s the other issue.”
“How much do we know?”
“Not much. One of Gentleman John’s clients mentioned that an investigative reporter had asked her some questions about this place. Hopefully, that’s as far as it went.”
“What did his client tell the reporter?”
“That, I don’t know. But I do know that this particular client has it bad for John. She even told him she loved him, if you can believe it.”
“Eye of the beholder,” Adam said.
“Damn straight. My theory is, she probably wants to scare him into behaving with his other customers. Otherwise, she would have provided more information, don’t you think? I’m not overly concerned. And you sure as hell haven’t done anything to be worried about.”
Fabian’s confidence eased some of Adam’s suspicions as they headed toward the entrance.
“Any chance all my appointments canceled?”
“I’ll check, but I doubt it.” Fabian eased behind the podium and tapped into the iPad while Adam pulled his cell phone from his pocket.
A text from Kirby.
“Looks like I got one cancellation,” Adam said. “Kirby won’t be stopping by at five.”
He felt simultaneously disappointed and thoroughly relieved. If she were the reporter, and had a chance to get back into the club, she wouldn’t be backing out.
On a more personal level, he tried not to read too much in to her minimalist wording. Still, something felt wrong. If she’d put a smiley-face emoji at the end of her message, he’d know she hadn’t changed her mind about seeing him altogether.
“That’s news. I didn’t know she was your five o’clock private,” Fabian said.
“Yes, but not for the reasons you’re thinking.” No way he’d do anything inside the club with Kirby or anyone else, tainted Corbusier notwithstanding.
“Why didn’t you say it was for her?” Fabian asked.
“You were busy tearing up the sheets when I called. And I guess I forgot to mention it in all the excitement about the clogged toilet. But, hey, I learned something new. You shouldn’t flush condoms.”
“And that Gentleman John wears an extralarge. No wonder the ladies fall heels over head in love with him.” Fabian punctuated the statement with a snort.
“Can we change the subject? I’m a very visual person.”
“Right after I answer your original question. You have one other cancellation. Your ten o’clock.”
Ten. He would love to ask Kirby if he could stop by her place, but ten o’clock sounded too much like a booty-call time slot.
No, he’d try her in a while, get the scoop on the meaning behind the text and maybe plan a real date. Complete with dinner and dancing and all the schamltzy stuff his grandfather admonished him to do, when all Adam really wanted was to nestle himself between those luscious thighs of hers, and dive into her soft, hot, wet—
“Wanna pump some iron?” Fabian said, interrupting the stimulating visual Adam had going. “We’ve got plenty of time before work.”
“I would, but I need to stop by the hospital. They’re releasing Henry, and I’m driving him home.”
“Now, see, there’s some good news.”
Definitely good. He simply hoped his grandfather didn’t ask him anything more about the Florida gig.
Still, no news was better than bad news when it came to his job. Or the club, for that matter. Especially when it was the kind of news that would be delivered straight from some reporter’s mouth.
9
KIRBY STOOD AT the threshold of Kelly Farms, at Todd Kelly’s invitation. She wasn’t so sure she wanted to see this woman-child who had accused Adam of such a terrible thing. Yet, this was one threshold she needed to cross to get to the truth.
Madison’s own brother had admitted that his little sister possessed quite a propensity for telling lies of all shapes and sizes, without compunction. That she had more emotional problems than one little girl should have to shoulder, and that he’d done what he thought necessary to protect her. Now, he insisted Kirby hear Madison’s admission for herself.
“Straight from the horse’s mouth,” he had said over the phone. “Let’s get this out in the open, undo the damage to that young man’s reputation if we possibly can, and give everyone’s wounds a fighting chance to heal.”
She knocked on the only front door she could find and was greeted by a nice-looking young man clad in a flannel button-down, faded working jeans and cowboy boots. Clint Eastwood, circa 1956, but without the celebrity shine.
“Come on in, Ms. Montgomery. Have a seat.” He pointed to a hickory ladder-back chair facing a matching desk.
The place smelled of tobacco and burned coffee and saddles.
He eased into the distressed leather executive chair on the other side, picked up the phone receiver and punched in some numbers.
“Madison. Come see me in the office, sweetheart. What? Yes, she’s here.”
He hung up the phone and exhaled a long sigh. “She doesn’t like to meet new people. And I’m sorry to make you come all this way. Your coworker never responded to my phone calls, some ten months ago. I guess they finally passed the message along to you.”
Kirby blinked. “You tried to call our station?”
“Yep. I called that Seth Wainwright character directly. Twice. Got his voice mail both times. He never returned my call.”
That explained a lot. If presented with a retraction from the accuser, Seth would have to admit he was wrong in airing the story and endure the subsequent hand slap. So he sacrificed Adam’s career and reputation by letting his initial report stand. No wonder Adam didn’t care for reporters.
Just as she started to regret how she’d canceled on him, a soft knock on the door jolted her from her thoughts.
A young, gangly teenager with glasses and braces and long, stringy blond hair entered the room but parked herself near the door.
“Madison, this is Ms. Montgomery.”
Kirby held out her hand for the girl to shake, but Madison stared at her own feet instead.
“Madison, I want you to tell this nice lady what happened at Becker Farms last year between you and Mr. Dra
ke.”
“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about,” Madison said without looking up.
“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Todd said. “You aren’t being punished. We talked about this less than an hour ago, remember? We gotta make it right, and Ms. Montgomery might be able to help us do that.”
Madison seemed to consider his words while Kirby held her breath.
“Nothin’ happened. Mr. Drake never did nothin’ to me,” Madison finally offered. She made the briefest possible eye contact.
“What did you accuse him of, if I may ask?” Kirby said.
The girl shuffled from one foot to the other and bit her bottom lip.
“Go on. Answer her,” Todd said.
“I said he touched me. Here.” She pointed in the general area of her breasts.
“Were the police involved?” Kirby asked, directing her question to Todd.
“Initially, yes. To make it worse, one of the parents got wind of it and called your station. But then Madison got spooked after seeing the report. Wouldn’t cooperate and kept changing her story, so charges were eventually dropped. A couple months later, she told me she’d made it up. I could tell she felt awful about it.”
“Did you contact Becker Farms to tell them what you knew?”
Todd looked down and shook his head.
“I thought long and hard about it, believe me. But Madison needed help real bad with some other issues she was havin’, and I didn’t want to put her through anything else. I did try contacting Adam Drake, but he’d disconnected his number and pretty much disappeared. So I decided to let sleepin’ dogs lie. Then you called.”
“Why did you make up a story, Madison?” Kirby asked.
“I don’t know. I thought he liked me, but then he started dating some older girl. A really pretty one. Even got her stupid name tattooed on his arm.”
Kirby winced. She had noticed something odd within the ink on his bicep.
“So, your feelings were hurt, and you wanted to hurt him back,” Kirby said.
Madison looked down again. “I s’pose.”
Kirby glanced at Todd, who shrugged.
“You can go now, Madison,” he said.
“Thank you for confiding in me,” Kirby said as the girl made a hasty exit.
Not only did this confirm what she wanted so desperately to believe about Adam, but it also proved that Seth was a weasel.
And there was nothing like the truth to put a weasel in his place.
* * *
BY THE TIME Adam arrived at the hospital, Henry was partially dressed and sitting up in bed.
“Sorry I’m late,” he said without explanation.
“You’re right on time. You don’t need to coddle me. These pretty nurses can handle it.” Henry winked at the one who was taking his blood pressure one final time.
“The release papers have been signed,” the nurse said. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
Adam helped Henry put on his shoes.
“How did your date go last night?” Henry asked.
“It went well. I cooked dinner for her. Hey...how did you know I had a date? I don’t recall telling you.”
“I figured it out, like I figured out you had a crush. And...?”
“And nothing. This is brand-new. It could go either way,” Adam said as he helped Henry with his jacket.
“How did you meet your future wife?”
Adam shook his head. “You don’t give up, do you?”
“I’m still here after passing out and landing facedown in my yard, according to a jury of my peers. Obviously I’m not going anywhere. Except Destin,” Henry said, with two thumbs up.
Florida. He knew how excited Henry was about moving, but he still couldn’t give him an official reason to be.
He chose his next words carefully. “We met in the grocery store.”
“I hope you weren’t wearing those sweats at the time.”
Of course his grandfather would say that. He was of the generation when courting was an art form.
“She was wearing yoga pants. We sort of matched. I saw it as a sign.”
“A sign indeed. Grocery stores are magical places,” Henry said.
“I’m inclined to believe you.”
Adam walked to the sink and collected Henry’s toothbrush and toothpaste and put them in a small travel bag he’d retrieved from his grandfather’s house on the way over.
He smiled inwardly at the grocery-store coincidence and, for a moment, he considered telling his grandfather about the toothbrush proposal. But such an admission would lead to other questions he didn’t care to answer.
“Did you reach for the same head of iceberg, by chance?” Henry asked.
“Not exactly. We met over prewashed packaged lettuce. Hearts of Romaine, of all things.”
“Oh, you young folks and your conveniences. It isn’t iceberg, but the name itself is a good sign. Yep, a good sign indeed.”
Fortunately, the doctor interrupted, followed by a nurse pushing a wheelchair.
“Come see me at the office next week. We’ll check your blood work,” the doctor said.
“I’m sure I’ll be fine. I can walk out of here. No need to bother the nurse with the wheelchair.”
“Sorry,” the doctor said. “Hospital rules.”
Henry reluctantly agreed, but only after offering the nurse a conspiratorial wink.
Ordinarily, Henry would have played matchmaker at this point. The odd detour from his usual modus operandi meant only one thing. It was apparent, even to his grandfather, that Adam wasn’t entirely available.
On the one hand, he was glad he could give Henry a glimmer of hope. On the other, it was yet another way he might let the man down.
Who was he fooling? The wording of Kirby’s text continued to chafe. It felt like a blow-off, and she’d yet to return his call.
She never did offer her address. Maybe she really was like some of the women who came into the club for sexual validation only. In Kirby’s case, she got what she needed. And she didn’t even have to pay for it.
* * *
BECKER FARMS WASN’T a farm at all. It was an entire equestrian center, complete with indoor and outdoor arenas and turnout areas, and a scrolled iron security gate protecting it all. In the distance, riders practiced drills in two separate open arenas.
Kirby could totally picture Adam here. She could also picture how a young, impressionable girl could develop a huge crush on him.
She located a keypad and intercom near the gate and followed the instructions. Once again, she didn’t have a script in mind. All she knew was she had to talk to somebody in charge about Adam.
“Yes? May I help you?” a woman’s voice asked.
“I hope so. My name is Kirby Montgomery. I’m with Channel 53 news. I don’t have an appointment, but—”
A loud buzz was followed by the opening of the main gate.
Someone actually welcomes the press?
That someone might not welcome me for long.
She drove down a long trail toward a compound of assorted buildings and parked in front of what looked to be the main one.
A woman stepped outside and met her halfway.
“I’m Trish Becker. My husband isn’t here right now. Are you investigating the missing saddles?”
The what? “Actually, I’m here to talk to you about Adam Drake and the allegations of sexual misconduct.”
Trish glanced around as if making sure no one could overhear them.
“You should probably wait until Donald gets back. I wasn’t involved in that whole incident.”
“But you know what happened?” Kirby asked.
Trish hesitated.
“This is completely off the record
,” Kirby said. “I’m simply doing some research for my own benefit.”
“Come inside,” Trish said, leading the way.
Yep. This place was much fancier than Kelly Farms, even though the other was quite charming. And thoroughly Western.
This one screamed English saddle, dressage, with Western pleasures tucked away in the far corner. It brought to mind something she’d noticed at Adam’s house—how accoutrements such as bridles and helmets sat in the corner nearest the back patio door. A couple of saddles, as well.
Instead of sitting behind the desk, Trish invited Kirby to get comfortable on an oversized cream-colored leather sectional, and then settled in beside her.
Kirby angled herself toward the woman so she could hopefully read her expressions.
“I’ll get right to the point, Mrs. Becker. I spoke with Madison Kelly, and she recanted her allegations against Adam Drake. Off the record, for now, but I wanted you and your husband to know the truth about that whole incident, in case it makes a difference about anything.”
“You spoke to Madison? In person?”
“Yes, ma’am. I just came from Kelly Farms.”
Trish shook her head. “I always thought she had made up the story. But why? And why wouldn’t Todd let us know?”
“I think it boils down to a misguided attempt to protect his sister from any further embarrassment. She’s apparently quite fragile, mentally and emotionally. From what she told me herself, she had a crush on Adam but he started dating someone else instead, which prompted the accusation.”
“I guess I can’t blame her for being infatuated with him. But to take it so far? And then the reporter aired the whole thing as if it were true?”
That’s our Seth, Kirby wanted to say. Instead, she allowed Trish to continue.
“We had no choice but to let Adam go. Our other customers insisted upon it. They didn’t want him near their daughters. Even though the whole topic seemed to disappear as quickly as it appeared, the televised report left a permanent stain.”
“You mentioned something about some missing saddles,” Kirby said.
“Yes. Hermès. Donald takes inventory once a year, and discovered two of them missing. Unfortunately, the last time he took inventory was right before he dismissed Adam.”