The officiant named was Keith Townsend. It contained the court’s seal, and under his signature were both Edward’s and Charli’s signatures.
Taking a deep breath, I pushed the paper back across the table and looked Mr. Owen in the eyes. “I understand how that may look, but I promise you, they are not married. That’s not her signature.”
“And you know that because…?”
“Because she told me and I believe her.”
The door opened and the detective from the scene came in.
“Mr. Demetri, do you remember me? I’m Detective Holden.”
I nodded.
“I heard the answer regarding the marriage license of Edward Spencer and Alexandria Collins. Tell me, how do you explain her signature on this license dated yesterday?”
I didn’t look at Mr. Owen nor did I correct Detective Holden on the number of days since the signature. I looked directly at Stephen Crawford and said, “I think it was forged just like many other signatures that I’ve seen recently.”
“What other signatures?” Detective Holden asked.
“Detective, how is that relevant to the charges against my client?” Mr. Owen asked.
Detective Holden pulled the empty chair away from the table, flipped it around so he was straddling the back, and sat. “Well, it appears as though, despite your assault, Mr. Fitzgerald has graciously agreed to offer you a deal.”
“A warrant has been issued,” Mr. Owen said. “The ball’s no longer in Mr. Fitzgerald’s court.”
The detective shrugged. “True, but he can decide to drop the charges and refuse to testify on behalf of the DA. I’m sure the state of Georgia will take Mr. Fitzgerald’s recommendation very seriously. They’re a little overwhelmed at this time with other issues, as is Mr. Fitzgerald.”
Mr. Owen lifted his hand, silencing my rebuttal. “What does he propose?”
“Mr. Fitzgerald agreed not to pursue the charges of aggravated battery if you agree to honor the marriage of his daughter and accept the limitations set forth in a restraining order restricting your contact with Mrs. Spencer.”
I shook my head.
“Mr. Demetri, we should talk about this offer,” Mr. Owen said.
“Are you representing me or Mr. Fitzgerald?”
“You, sir.”
“First, someone tell me who I supposedly assaulted.”
“Mr. Fitzgerald,” Detective Holden said. “At this time we’re waiting on the video evidence; however, he does have the contusion to support his claim.” He looked at my hands resting on the table’s surface. “And I will recommend photographs of your hand.”
I looked down and shrugged. “Yard work. I work in an office. My hands are soft.”
“Mr. Demetri…” Darryl Owen began.
“No. Tell the all-powerful Alton Fitzgerald that I’ll take the charge. I’ll pay the bail and he can take his offer and shove it up his ass.” I leaned forward as my palm slapped the metal table. “Oh, and tell him that I won’t be the one contesting this marriage; his stepdaughter will. I’ll be the one standing by her side, right by her side, as she hands him his ass in front of a judge and on the front page of every newspaper.”
“Mr. Demetri?” the detective asked.
I leaned back and looked at my attorney. “He was manhandling Alex-andria. He was forcing her into a car where she didn’t want to go. If you have video footage proving his accusation, you’ll also have footage of his assault. Let him know: I’ll encourage his stepdaughter to press charges.”
Though Daryl Owen seemed displeased with my outburst, Stephen’s smile grew larger.
“So you’re admitting to battery?” Holden asked.
“My client has not admitted to anything except rescuing his girlfriend.”
“The wife of another man.”
Though I was certain the vein on my forehead was ready to burst, I swallowed my retort.
“Mr. Owen, there are multiple charges,” Detective Holden continued. “It wasn’t only Mr. Fitzgerald who was assaulted tonight on the grounds of Montague Manor. Two of his guards were found unconscious. One was bound.” He turned toward me. “You wouldn’t know anything about those men, would you, Mr. Demetri?”
I shrugged. “It was a big party. I assume you’ve questioned each and every one of the guests? I saw a few who looked pretty shady.”
“What evidence do you have connecting my client to any of these charges?” Mr. Owen asked.
“He was there. He admitted that.”
“Circumstantial,” Stephen said. “So were over a hundred other people.”
“He just admitted to rescuing a woman from Mr. Fitzgerald, the CEO of Montague Corporation and the owner of the private property where he trespassed. The same Mr. Fitzgerald who was assaulted.”
“There was no admission. At the most you have circumstantial evidence for simple battery. My client can post bond and be out of here in less than an hour.”
“We’re getting the video footage from the mansion.”
Mr. Owen nodded. “Fine, and when you do, be sure to watch for the evidence that my client mentioned—that against Mr. Fitzgerald. You heard Mr. Demetri: Miss Collins could very easily follow through on her charges.”
“And let him know,” I said, “that she will also be filing forgery charges for falsifying her signature on a legal document.”
Detective Holden stood and pushed the chair back under the table.
“I’ll speak to Mr. Fitzgerald’s attorney and be back with you.”
“Mr. Demetri,” Stephen asked, “are you able to post bond tonight if necessary?”
“Yes.”
The detective stopped with his hand on the doorknob. “You were at Montague Manor all evening?”
I shrugged. “I’m not sure of the exact time.”
“Were you there by eight o’clock?”
“Detective,” Mr. Owen said, “why are you asking?”
He looked at me. “Do you know Mrs. Spencer’s mother?”
“I don’t know a Mrs. Spencer,” I replied.
“Mr. Demetri, what do you know about Mrs. Fitzgerald?”
Stephen’s gaze met mine.
“I know she’s been ill and her daughter’s been very concerned. That’s why she came back to Savannah.”
“Yet she was willing to leave Savannah with her mother in grave condition?”
“She was willing to go to our home and away from Mr. Fitzgerald.” I squared my shoulders. “Between Miss Collins and myself, we’re capable of affording her transportation to visit her mother as often as necessary.”
The detective nodded as he opened the door.
Nearly an hour later, Detective Holden returned. “Mr. Owen, Mr. Crawford, if your client will agree to an off-the-record conversation, perhaps we can get this unfortunate situation resolved?”
Mr. Owen looked my direction and back to the detective. “Off-the-record conversation with whom?”
“A private, off-the-record conversation with Mr. Fitzgerald.”
Mr. Owen shook his head. “Lennox, I would advise against this.”
“Detective, can you guarantee this is off the record?”
“Yes.”
“Lennox…”
“Gentlemen, please step outside for a moment. I would be happy to speak with Mr. Fitzgerald.”
IT WAS ALMOST three in the morning by the time we pulled up to the house in Rye. Exhaustion had taken over long ago. My body and mind were running on adrenaline and even that had begun to wane.
“Alex, do you need me to go in with you?”
I squinted my eyes, trying to understand Deloris’s question. “You’re not staying here?”
“I can but I’d like to go home.”
The door to the house opened as Silvia stood, wrapped in a robe.
I forced a smile. “I guess I never think of you as having your own place.”
“Since you’ve come along, I seem to see it less and less.”
“Go,” I said as Clayton opened the car door. The
offending wind reminded me that I was no longer in Georgia. Despite the onslaught of goose bumps, Silvia’s tired, welcoming smile filled me with warmth. After Chelsea and I were out of the car, I turned back to Deloris. “We’ll be fine. Besides, Nox is on his way.”
We’d all received a text from Isaac just after we’d landed. We didn’t know the particulars, only that the charges had been dropped and Nox and Isaac were New York bound.
As we started to walk toward the open door, I added, “Thank you, Deloris, and I’m sorry.”
“Sorry?” she asked.
“That I’ve kept you away from your home.” I tilted my head. “Why did you come all the way out here if you’re going back to the city?”
“I promised Lennox I’d get you to this property. I wasn’t stopping until you were here. Go see your mom.”
“Clayton?” I asked.
“He’s driving me back. He’ll be here tomorrow and soon Lennox and Isaac will be too. Don’t worry. You’re well protected.”
My lungs filled with the cold night air as I scanned the grounds around the driveway and front of the house. Images of men in black clothing hiding behind trees came to mind. No doubt, delirium had begun to set in. Shaking my head, I stepped inside. As soon as I did, Silvia shut the door and wrapped her arms around me in a welcoming embrace. “Alex, I’m so glad you made it.”
I smiled as we separated. “My mom?” I still couldn’t comprehend that she was here, in Nox’s home.
“She’s upstairs.”
I reached for Chelsea and introduced her.
The shine in Silvia’s brown eyes reminded me of what it was like to be welcomed home. Slowly, I took in the foyer, the bleached wooden floors, light beige walls, and white woodwork. My cheeks rose at the fresh flowers arranged on the large oval table in the entry. “Is it wrong that I always feel like I’m at home here?”
“Not at all,” Silvia said. “I think that’s wonderful, because you are. Would either of you like something to eat or drink before you retire?”
“I want to see my mom before anything.”
“She’s asleep. I believe the doctor is too, but Mr. Demetri was awake a few minutes ago.”
“I’m still awake.”
We all turned toward the deep baritone voice. Like his son, he was a domineering presence.
“I see you left Georgia without my son.”
My pulse quickened and shoulders straightened. “And you have my mother. Why?”
Not for the first time, I noticed the family resemblance as Oren smiled and small lines formed around his eyes. Not only were they the same shade of blue as his son’s, they held the same silent power of communication. He seemed amused by my response.
“Miss Collins, I admire your fortitude. For the record, I always have.”
Silvia spoke to Chelsea. “Let me show you around, and I can get you something to eat or drink if you’d like.”
Chelsea shrugged questioningly in my direction.
“Wait,” I said. “Mr. Demetri…” I began introducing the two of them.
“Alex, that’s very polite of you but unnecessary. Miss Moore, you’re welcome here as long as you’d like. I promise you’re perfectly safe in my home.”
I bristled, wondering how much he knew about Chelsea. Did he know about Bryce? About everything? It wasn’t only his knowledge that bothered me. The way he referred to this home as his made the small hairs on the back of my neck stand to attention. I wanted to correct him and say it belonged to Nox, but instead I held my tongue as Chelsea accepted his kind gesture and disappeared with Silvia.
“My son?” he asked.
“Is in flight.”
Oren nodded. “I received the same text. I was wondering something else.”
Talking to Oren Demetri put me on edge. Each phrase, each word made me feel as if I were constantly trying to make sense of a riddle. At three in the morning, I didn’t have the energy. “Mr. Demetri, I’d like to see my mother.”
“Call me Oren, Alexandria. The doctor is asleep, but there’s a nurse monitoring Adelaide. She’ll have around-the-clock care.”
“Why?”
“She needs it.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Before we go upstairs, I think we should talk about what happened on the plane.”
I took a deep breath. “Can’t we talk in her room?”
“I’d rather not.”
“I’m sorry. This is rude, but I’ve had a long day. My mother is upstairs. I left Nox in Savannah to get to her. I’m going to go find her.”
He motioned toward the sitting room. “Hear me out. Please, this won’t take long. They say that patients can’t hear what is said around them while they’re unconscious, but I’d rather not take the chance. My house, my rules.”
My feet stopped. “Lennox’s house.”
Oren nodded. “Demetri.”
I took a deep breath and held my lips together.
“I’m not insisting on much,” he said. “Positivity. What happened today needs to be discussed, but not in your mother’s presence.”
I swallowed my resistance and tried to hear his intent. Something in his tone tugged at my heart. “You care about what is said around her? I’m going to ask again, why?”
He sat on the edge of the long sofa and leaned forward. It wasn’t the confident stance of the man I’d last met in this house months ago.
“First…” He gestured toward the sofa. “…please sit. You need to know about the flight.”
I didn’t argue as I settled at the far end of the plush couch. “Nox?”
Oren’s gaze met mine. “What about him?”
“You wanted to know something about him, what?”
He waved his hand. “It’s rather obvious.” Taking a deep breath, he sat taller. “As you should know, your mother has been given what some might consider an inappropriate amount of tranquilizers.”
Tranquilizers was a broad term. I assumed he was referring to the Versed or midazolam that Dr. Miller prescribed. “They said it was to help her withstand the DTs.”
“That’s what they said. The doctor who’s been with her tonight and I both believe that it was to keep her from talking.”
I narrowed my sleepy eyes. “Talking about what?”
He shook his head. “Alexandria, I think we need to get further into the whats and whys tomorrow. Tonight, as you said, has been very long. The point I want to make is that the excessive use of that medication has affected her body.”
My neck straightened as tears I couldn’t fight filled my eyes.
“I wanted to get your mother out of that poor excuse of a hospital as much as you.”
“Why—”
“Please,” he implored, “let me speak.”
I nodded.
“Our doctors couldn’t examine her until we had her safely out of there. They scanned her records. They made their assessments, but their assumptions were based on the information we could obtain. Unfortunately that isn’t as accurate as having the patient in their grasp.”
The dread that had filled me at his text message was back. “What happened?”
“Your mother went into shock after we were in the air.”
I bolted to my feet. “I need to see her.”
Oren stood too, blocking my way. “She’s fine, as fine as she can be, but she wasn’t. I take full responsibility for forcing her removal. Another twenty-four hours. Hell…” His volume rose. “…another two hours… that fucking excuse for a nurse.” His lips shut tight. “Pardon my language.”
“What happened?”
“We got her out of Magnolia Woods. We got her to the plane. She was mumbling when we first got to her, but then her vitals began to weaken.” He ran his hand through his hair. “Her heart stopped.”
I gasped as my knees loss tension and stomach fell. Giving way to gravity, I slid back to the sofa. “Stopped?”
“There was a doctor, Dr. Eva Rossi, on board. She’s the one who’s still here. She was m
onitoring her. She must have anticipated… there was an AED.”
“AED?”
“Defibrillator.”
“My mother’s heart was shocked?”
He nodded. “It didn’t work at first. We had to perform CPR. She has multiple broken ribs. I’m sorry.”
“She’s alive.”
He nodded again.
“Her ribs will heal. They wouldn’t if she weren’t alive.”
“Dr. Rossi has numerous concerns, her greatest being your mother’s brain.”
“Why?”
“The medication they used can affect the oxygen level to the brain. For some reason, despite the constant use, they didn’t have her on additional oxygen.”
“She is now?” I asked.
“Yes. But that isn’t all. Her heart stopped. I can’t tell you for how long. It seemed like hours, but it wasn’t. Nevertheless, during that time, before the CPR, her brain and organs were deprived of oxygen.”
“No. This isn’t happening.” I stood again. “Take me to her.”
Oren stepped in front of me. “Alexandria, I don’t believe in sugarcoating things. I never have. Dr. Rossi is concerned that she may never wake, and if she does, there could be irreparable damage.”
His words squeezed the muscles of my throat, making any response difficult. “W-when will we know?”
“Time will tell us.”
The warm, welcoming feeling I’d enjoyed upon my arrival disappeared into the cloud of fear his news delivered. I didn’t speak as he led me up the stairs. My only thought was of my momma. I didn’t think about Nox or our past as we passed the door to the room Nox and I had shared. I ran Oren’s words and phrases over again in my mind. With each step they sank deeper and deeper into my psyche. We didn’t stop until we reached a set of double doors.
As Oren reached for the doorknob, I reached for his arm. Something he’d said stood out. “Why do you take responsibility?”
“What?” His voice sounded dazed as if he too had been lost in thought.
“By getting my mother, you were doing what Lennox asked, what I wanted. It was my doing, not yours.”
He stood taller, his chest inflating. “Absolutely not.”
Before I could respond he went on, “Adelaide will wake. She will be the vivacious, beautiful woman she always was. I believe that with everything in me. However, if I’m wrong, which you should take comfort in knowing is rarely the case, but if I am, her fate is not your doing. You did the best you could. You were willing to sacrifice your own soul for her. She didn’t want that, and neither do I. If things don’t go as planned, it is on me.”
Fidelity (Infidelity) (Volume 5) Page 8