Shattered Trust (Shattered #2)

by Magda Alexander

  “It’s not that I don’t want to cooperate, but what does it matter?” he argues.

  “Holden Gardiner did not take his own life. He was murdered.”

  “My God.” He stares at the floor, shakes his head. “No wonder Madison’s so upset.”

  “She didn’t tell you?” I would have expected her to share the news with him.

  “No. She texted me and asked me to come over. Maybe she wanted to tell me in person.”

  “You have a problem, Philippe.” Actually he has several, but I’ll start with the one likely to get him into the most trouble.

  “What?”

  “Madison is sixteen years old.”

  His eyes widen as panic rolls over his face. “She told me she was eighteen. She showed me her ID with her name and age and everything.”

  “It was a fake ID. She’s not eighteen. Which means you broke into the room of a sixteen-year-old.” I stop pacing and confront him. “Did you have relations with her?”

  “Relations? You mean sex? No! We didn’t! We haven’t.”

  “You better hope Madison says the same thing, because if she doesn’t, you can pretty much kiss your law career good-bye.” At the very least he could be charged with delinquency of a minor. If they had sex, he could be charged with something much worse.

  “Mon Dieu.” He drops his head on his hands and pulls at his hair. “Why did she lie to me?”

  “Because she likes you and didn’t realize what the consequences would be.”

  He rushes to his feet. “I need to talk to her.”

  I shake my head. “Not tonight. Madrigal’s upset with her. With you. My advice is that you tell your parents what happened. Get yourself a lawyer. Then go to the police and give them your statement.”

  He doesn’t look too happy with my words of wisdom, but I’m giving him the best advice I can.

  “You’ll need to stay away from Madison. At least until things clear up.”

  “That won’t be a problem. We’re going on vacation in three days. I don’t want to leave things like this with her, though. Can’t I at least say good-bye? Please.”

  I feel for the guy. Yes, he’s done some stupid things, but I sense underneath he’s a decent young man. “It will have to be quick.” If her sister allows it at all, which I’m not sure she will.

  “All right.”

  “Let me see what I can do.” I leave him in the sitting room and take the stairs to the second floor. As I approach Madison’s room, I can hear them going at it hammer and tongs.

  “I don’t understand why I can’t have a boyfriend.”

  “You’re sixteen.”

  “That’s old enough.”

  “To have a boyfriend, yes. To have him in your bedroom, no.”

  “Why not? You have your boyfriend in your room. I saw him the day of the picnic.”

  At the firm picnic two weeks ago, Madrigal and I argued. Unwilling to leave without making peace with her, I’d knocked on her bedroom door. Afraid somebody would see us, she’d pulled me into her room. We’d done more than talk, of course, and somehow Madison must have seen us.

  “Madison, I’m eight years older than you.”

  “And that gives you the right to invite a man into your room?”

  My knock on the door interrupts their argument.

  “Come in.” Madrigal’s voice. She sounds exhausted.

  Stepping in, I close the door behind me. Don’t know how much anyone else has overhead, but I’d just as soon keep this private. “Philippe would like to say good night to Madison.”

  Madrigal appears torn between wanting to say no and approving the request, so I help her out. “I don’t see the harm in it. He’s going on vacation with his family. I advised him not to communicate with Madison before he leaves.”

  Madison pipes in, “That’s why he came tonight, so we could say good-bye. Please, Mad.”

  Madrigal huffs out a sigh. “Fine, but I’ll be in the room.”

  “Okay,” Madison says.

  The three of us walk downstairs. As soon as we enter the sitting room, Philippe stands up.

  Madison runs to him, throws her arms around his waist, and rests her head on his shoulder. Well matched in height and in coloring, even in build, they make a beautiful couple. But they’re so young, especially Madison. I doubt their relationship will outlast her adolescence, given her volatile temperament.

  Philippe hugs her, but then pulls away. “You lied to me, ma petite. You told me you were eighteen.”

  Worrying her lip, Madison glances down at the rug before looking up at him again. “I’m sorry. It’s just that I liked you so much and you were in college. I knew if I told you I was only sixteen, you wouldn’t have liked me.”

  His frown reveals what he thinks of her excuse. “We won’t be able to see each other again before I leave.”

  “Why not?” Tears tremble in her eyes.

  “Because there are things I must do. Once I return, if your sister approves, we can see each other again.” He gazes at Madrigal. Her stone face does not reveal how she feels about this pronouncement. “May I kiss her good-bye?”

  While Madrigal mulls over his request, Madison begs, “Please, Mad.”

  Madrigal tosses her head. “Fine. One kiss.”

  The look Philippe bestows on Madison before he kisses her tells me he’s truly in love with her. He’s too young to understand the ramifications of giving his heart to a volatile sixteen-year-old. But then who am I to judge? I’m in love with a woman who’s thirteen years my junior. There’s no arguing with what the heart wants even if it spells ruin.

  Chapter 7

  Trenton

  Between the night’s drama and Madrigal crawling into bed with me after Philippe leaves, we do not get much sleep. Sunday morning we don’t rise until eleven. A subdued Madison and an anxious-looking Olivia join us for brunch, which consists of mounds of eggs, bacon, sausages, pancakes, and pitchers of coffee, hot water for tea, and orange juice.

  For someone who often went without food during his childhood, it’s a veritable feast. “Do you always eat like this?”

  “On Sundays, yes,” Madrigal explains. “With everyone coming and going during the week, we often don’t get a chance to connect as a family, so this is a way to share our adventures.”

  The conversation among those present starts off stilted, but soon Madrigal’s asking Madison about the newest foal in the stable and Olivia about her latest knitting project. By the end of the meal, the tension in the room has, if not vanished, eased quite a bit. And it’s all thanks to Madrigal’s efforts. She’s quite good at making people comfortable.

  After brunch, Madison wanders to the stables while Madrigal adjourns to the sitting room with Olivia, probably to get more information about Madison’s medication. I head to the bedroom Madrigal assigned to me, the one in which we fucked half the night. To my surprise, the room’s been straightened up and the trash taken away. A maid’s been here. Damn. I’m not used to having someone pick up after me. At my Crystal City apartment, I take care of my needs, and a cleaning lady comes in once a week. I’ll let Madrigal know I’d just as soon look after myself. Don’t want someone snooping about in my things. Not when I’m in the middle of a murder investigation.

  I park my posterior on the studded leather chair in the corner of the room and pull out my cell. There’s someone I need to talk to—Joss Stanton. The news has hit the media, so she’s bound to know Holden’s death has been ruled a murder and not a suicide. She and Madrigal’s grandfather had been lovers since his wife died from cancer more than a decade ago. Not only that, she’s a partner at my law firm, the one Holden founded. So I feel a certain obligation to check in with her.

  “Joss.”

  “Trenton.” Her voice lacks her usual vigor.

  I cut to the chase. “Can I come over? There’s something I need to discuss with you.”

  “I already know about Holden. It’s all over the news.”

  I curse softly under my brea
th. “I’m sorry you had to discover it that way. I should have called you as soon as I found out.”

  “I imagine you’re quite busy with Madrigal and her sister.”

  “Yes, I am.” From the day Madrigal came to work as an intern at her grandfather’s law firm, I’d been attracted to her. During a trip to interview a prisoner on death row in North Carolina, we’d been forced to take shelter at a fleabag motel in Virginia when a hurricane forced us off the road. One thing led to another, and Madrigal and I ended up in bed. When Madrigal’s expense report raised a red flag, Joss deduced we’d shared one room. Even though she strongly suspected our mutual attraction, she never breathed a word to Holden. This is the first confirmation that she knew about our liaison.

  “Mitch asked you to represent him?” A logical deduction on her part. She’s aware of Mitch’s role in my life. If it hadn’t been for him, God only knows what would have happened to me. I’d probably be dead, just like my brother.

  “Yes, he did.” As an attorney, she’s familiar with client confidentiality, so she doesn’t bother to ask questions I can’t answer. “He didn’t do it, of course.”

  “I’m not so sure about that, Trenton.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Haven’t you ever wondered why Mitch left the law firm?” Three years before, Mitch had severed his partnership with Gardiner, Ashburn & Strickland. Even though I questioned his decision, he never explained. “Ask him about that.”

  “Do you know?”

  “If I did, I wouldn’t tell you. I’d never betray Holden’s confidence.”

  Which means she knows the answer. “It can’t hurt him now.”

  “It can hurt Holden’s legacy, and that’s something I’m going to do my best to protect. If you want to get to the truth, ask Mitch. I’ll tell you one thing: it had nothing to do with the law firm.” So, in other words, it was personal.

  As soon as I finish my conversation with Joss, Charlie buzzes me. “Called in a favor at the Loudoun County Police Department.”

  “And?”

  “My sources tell me there was no gunshot residue on Holden’s hands. That’s what clued them to the fact it wasn’t a suicide.”

  There’s no doubt it was murder, then. The gun that fired the fatal bullet belonged to Mitch. And, if Joss is to be believed, there’s something Mitch is hiding. Some bad blood between him and Holden that the prosecutor will use as a motive. But what could it have been? Given sufficient provocation, anyone is capable of committing murder—that much I’ve learned as a criminal attorney. But what could Holden have done to drive Mitch to murder? He’s a closed-mouth bastard most of the time, but if I’m to have any hope of getting the charges against him dismissed, I’ll need to force it out of him.

  “We’re going to have to set up an evidence room to put all the pieces together. I’ll start one at the office. Once that’s done, I’ll give you a call.” This is not the first time we’ve run an investigation. Far from it. Charlie is the best at gathering evidence, but it’s the visual clues that usually help us figure out the best defense for our clients.

  “I’ll organize my notes so we can hit the ground running, but you’ll need Mitch’s input to mount a credible defense.”

  “I’ll talk to him after I’m done at the office. See you tomorrow, Charlie.” I’ll have to transfer a couple of clients to other partners in the criminal law practice group. Larceny and assault and battery, although felony offenses, don’t compare to the murder charge that lies in Mitch’s future. I’ll need to talk not only to Mitch but also to the Loudoun County Commonwealth’s Attorney assigned to the case, to get a bead on things. With any luck I can get the charges dismissed before the preliminary hearing.

  Someone knocks on the door to my room. Madrigal. “What are you up to?”

  “Calling Joss. She already knows. Heard it on the news.”

  Madrigal’s face crumples with emotion, and her gaze turns watery. Joss is not only a partner at her grandfather’s law firm but a friend. “I’m sorry she had to find out that way. How is she?”

  I walk up to her. I’ll never get over how beautiful she is. And how much I want her. Even now, in the middle of this tragedy, I’d love to lay her down, cover her body with mine, and make love to her. “Sad. Not talking.” Unable to keep from touching her, I cup her cheek.

  She tilts her head as if she yearns for me too. “About?”

  “The reason Mitch left the firm.”

  “You should ask him.”

  “That’s what she suggested. I’ll do that when I see him tomorrow.”

  “I’m going up to my room to study for the bar exam. That darn thing is only a couple of weeks away.”

  Pulling her into my arms, I kiss her the way I’ve been burning to do. She doesn’t struggle. “You’ll do fine, Madrigal.”

  “I still have to hit the books,” she mumbles into my chest. “What are you going to do to entertain yourself?” she asks, looking up.

  “Jot down all the details I remember about that night. Do you mind if I talk to a couple of the staff?”

  Her gaze turns wary. “Who?”

  “Hartley for one, Olivia for another.”

  “She couldn’t have done it. Grandfather locked her in her room, just like he did me.”

  “I know, but she could have seen something.”

  “Do it soon. This has been too much for her, and she’s decided to take some time off.”

  That makes sense. The woman was Holden’s housekeeper and Madison’s nanny. I’d be surprised if she didn’t need a break after everything that has happened. “Where is she going?”

  “To visit her sister in New York. She hates planes, so she’ll travel by train. It’ll take her a couple of days to arrange everything, so she’ll be around until Tuesday or Wednesday.”

  I spend the rest of the afternoon jotting down notes on the case, pinpointing avenues to investigate. My conversation with Olivia is painfully brief. The woman’s a bundle of nerves. Hopefully the time with her sister will do her good. But Hartley’s made of stronger mettle.

  “Mr. Gardiner could be a hard one. He sometimes punished the girls, but I expect you know that.”

  “Yes, Hartley, I do. And you manage the stables?”

  “Yes, sir. I make sure everyone toes the line. Of course”—he clears his throat—“horses are another thing.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “We had a filly, Rosebud. A real beauty. But she disappointed Mr. Gardiner when she stumbled and lost a steeplechase race. Turned out she got hurt on the course. I could have fixed her, but he insisted she was done for and no good to him. So he had her put down.”

  Son of a bitch. “He killed a horse because she lost a race?”

  “He could be a hard one if someone or something didn’t live up to his expectations.”

  God. I knew Holden was a demanding bastard, but to kill a horse over a lost race seems deranged.

  By the end of my conversation with Hartley, it’s dinnertime. The mood at the table is much lighter, and Madrigal does not have to keep the conversation going. While we’re enjoying coffee and dessert in the living room, one of the maids interrupts. “Pardon me, miss, but there’s a gentleman at the front door.”

  “Who could it be this late?” Madrigal asks.

  Even more important, how did he get in? The front gates are locked, or should be. Anyone trying to gain access to the estate would have to be buzzed in or know the password.

  We find a dark-haired stranger in the foyer. I’m six three, but this man has a couple of inches and at least twenty pounds of hard muscle on me.

  Even though her brow furrows at the sight of him, she extends her hand. “I’m Madrigal Berkeley. What can I do for you?”

  “I’m Hunter Stone from Stone Security.”

  Her brow clears up. “Oh, yes. Charlie White told me to expect someone from your company.”

  A sense of déjà vu rolls over me. I’ve seen him before, but darn if I can remember where or wh
en.

  She points to me. “This is Trenton Steele. A friend. He’s living here for the moment.”

  His blue-eyed gaze would drill a hole in a guilty man. Good thing I’m not guilty.

  “Stone,” I say, shaking his hand. “I’m sorry. Have we met? You look familiar.”

  “Not that I recall.” He turns back to Madrigal. “There’s been a slight change of plans. The operative I assigned to your detail has been delayed en route. She’ll be here first thing in the morning. In the meantime, I will provide protection tonight. I’m dedicating a team of three operatives—one woman, two men. Each will be on an eight-hour shift. Alicia will handle the day shift. She rides, so she’ll be able to accompany your younger sister”—he peers into his phone—“Madison, when she goes riding. In the meantime, I’ll need to go over your security setup. I will be changing the security code for the estate.”

  “But our staff need the code to get in,” Madrigal says.

  “As of right now, nobody gets in without our approval. They’ll have to buzz to get on the property. I’ll need a list of all your staff, plus their photos.”

  Going by the twist of her lips, she’s not on board with that plan. “That seems cumbersome. They’re used to coming and going.”

  “Which is exactly why you need a security company. With all due respect, Ms. Berkeley, your grandfather could have been killed by anyone. The culprit could just as easily be someone within the estate as someone who gained illicit access, so I’ll be running security checks on your staff.”

  “Some have been here forever. They will object,” she warns him.

  “I’ll explain it’s absolutely necessary in order to provide you and your sister with the best security.”

  Madrigal folds her arms across her chest. A defensive maneuver I’ve seen before. “Fine. The house will be protected, but what will you do about the rest of the property? There’s thirty acres of land.”

  “Although our main objective is to protect the inhabitants of your home, we will, with your permission, of course, post security cameras throughout the property.” His eyes assess the foyer and move up the curving staircase before snapping back to Madrigal. “Unless you already have them?”