“Were you able to hear their discussion?”
“Yes. It would have been hard to miss. They were both yelling at the top of their lungs. Mitch demanded that Holden stop Madison’s meds because she was perfectly fine. That there was nothing wrong with her. He accused Holden of doing the same thing to Marlena, the girl’s mother. He’d drugged her as well to keep her in line.”
“And what did Holden have to say to that?”
“He told Mitch he had no say in Madison’s upbringing. That he, Holden, was her guardian, not him.”
“And what did Mitchell Brooks have to say to that?”
“He said—” She glances at Mitch, whose face has gone white as a sheet. “He said that he had every right because Madison was his daughter.”
“Noooooo!” A young girl’s scream rings out as the media stampedes from the room, no doubt to beat everyone else to the news.
Tears running down his face, Mitch glances back at Madison. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
“Get her out of here!” I yell over the commotion.
With Cristina on one side of Madison and Olivia on the other, they fight their way out of the courtroom.
It’s a foregone conclusion how the judge will rule. Not only has Jefferson given means and opportunity, but a hell of a motive as well. Once the prosecution finishes presenting its case, the judge finds probable cause that Mitchell Brooks killed Holden Gardiner the night of July 5, 2014.
“Take care of them,” Mitch says before he’s led away.
What else can I say but “I will.”
Chapter 37
Madrigal
The mass exodus from the courtroom alarms me. What on earth is going on? Did the judge issue a ruling? The swarm of activity buzzes all around as photographers set up their cameras and reporters prop themselves up in front of them. But it’s only when a couple of them catch sight of me that I panic.
“There she is.” A blonde, hard-looking woman rushes over with a microphone in her hand. “Ms. Berkeley, how do you feel about what Joss Stanton just revealed?”
“What did she reveal?” I wasn’t in there. As a witness, I had to remain outside until the bailiff fetched me.
“That Mitchell Brooks is your sister’s father.”
I’d suspected it, of course, but hadn’t yet confirmed it.
The doors behind me burst open, and a sobbing Madison emerges, held up between Cristina and Olivia. Cameras click-click-click all around us.
One of the reporters shoves a recorder in her face. “Did you know Mitchell Brooks was your father?”
Jumping into the fray, Hunter shoves the reporter away from Madison. “Get behind me, all of you.” He doesn’t have to tell us twice, and in the next few seconds we line up behind him like a bunch of baby chicks. With him as our battering ram, we make our way through the madness that is the Loudoun County courthouse. Not giving a damn whom he knocks over, he pushes through the throng of reporters, cameramen, and lookie-loos. Unfortunately, it doesn’t end there. Our SUV is parked several blocks away. Relentless reporters chase us all the way to the vehicle, yelling out questions, none of which we answer. It’s one of those infernally hot summer days, and by the time we reach the parking garage, most of us are out of breath and perspiring heavily. Olivia, Madison, and I scramble into the back of the SUV, while Cristina and Hunter climb in the front. Soon we’re flying through the garage, tires squealing. It’s only when we’re on the road that I’m able to relax.
“What happened in there?” I ask once I catch my breath.
“The prosecution put Joss on the stand,” Cristina answers. “She testified to a conversation she overheard between Holden and Mitch in which Mitch admitted to being Madison’s father.”
“Sweetheart.” I hug Madison to me.
“How could he not tell me?”
“He probably didn’t want you to know. And I imagine he thought you were better off with Gramps.”
“Even after he found out about all the drugs forced on me?”
Between Cristina and Madison, the whole sorry tale emerges. Mitch discovering the drugs Madison was taking when she fell off her horse. The argument over the medications and Mitch quitting the law firm.
“What I don’t get,” Cristina says, “is why he didn’t sue for custody at the time. I would have if I knew my child was being medicated as Madison was. Something’s not right.”
Maybe I’m too close to Madison and Mitch, but I don’t get what she’s saying. “What do you mean?”
“As Madison’s father, he would have rights of visitation, if nothing else.”
“He was welcome in our home at any time. Gramps didn’t deny him entrance until that last day.”
“But he knew about the drugs Madison was being given.”
“Maybe he didn’t want her to know he was her father.”
“Why not?” Madison asks. “I’d rather have lived with him than Gramps.”
“Gramps would not have allowed it, you know that. He would have ruined Mitch most probably. He had a lot of pull in the legal community.”
“So Uncle Mitch gave up because he thought Gramps would ruin him?”
“I don’t know, Madison. I really don’t.”
She juts out her chin. “I want to talk to him.”
“It will have to be arranged, and he’ll have to agree to it.”
“Why wouldn’t he? Doesn’t he want me?” Tears shimmer in her eyes.
“Oh, honey.” But Cristina’s right. There’s something we don’t know. Mitch has been hiding things, but maybe Joss is hiding something as well. If I know her, she’s trying to protect Gramps. And whatever she’s hiding, she’ll take that secret to the grave.
After we get home, I head upstairs with Madison and help her settle down. Predictably, she doesn’t want to talk to anybody. “What about Philippe?”
“Not yet. I have to get my head straight first. Right now I just want to veg out.”
“Okay. If you need anything, let me know.” I barely make it to the door before she yells my name. “Mad?”
“Yes, sweetheart.”
“I love you.”
I smile at her. “I love you too.”
She hugs Blue, her stuffed bear, and lies back on the covers. My heart aches for her. She’s gone through so much in such a short period of time. “Can I get you anything?”
“No. Oh, wait. Some chocolate pudding would be nice.”
“You got it. I’ll bring some right up.”
“Thanks, Mad.”
“Anytime, squirt.”
After I deliver the treat to Madison, I head back downstairs and run into Steele. “You’re back.”
“Yes. How is she?”
“Hurting, but I think she’ll be okay. She asked for chocolate pudding.”
His lopsided grin tells me he understands its significance.
“Did you know about Mitch being her father?” I ask.
“I suspected it. Not that he ever admitted it.”
“So what happens now?”
“With Mitch’s case?”
“Yes and Madison. I don’t want to be separated from her.” That fear has seized my heart and won’t let go.
He curls his hands around my shoulders. “He’s not going to take her away from you, Madrigal. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to her.”
I fiddle with the buttons of his shirt. “What if she wants to go live with him?” I ask in a small voice.
He chuckles at the notion. “And where would she stable Marigold? In Mitch’s garage? She’d never leave her horse behind.”
“Good to know her horse ranks higher than I do.”
He tweaks my chin. “It doesn’t, and you know it.”
“So what do you think Mitch will do?”
“They’ll have to find their way to each other. He’d need to establish paternity first, of course. So there’s no doubt in anyone’s mind that she’s his daughter.”
“I suspected it as well.” Chewing on my lip, I glan
ce up at him.
“Oh?”
“I took a hairbrush from his house and a toothbrush from Madison and sent them in for analysis. The results should be back in a few days.”
His frown tells me what he thinks of my initiative. “You did all this without telling me?”
“I was waiting until I was sure. No sense in talking about it until it was verified. Besides, you suspected it as well and didn’t share it with me.”
“I couldn’t since it’s part and parcel of the case.”
“So what happens next with Mitch?”
“The case will go to the grand jury. The prosecutor will present the evidence, and they’ll issue an indictment.”
“When?”
“In the next month or two. All the prosecution has is circumstantial evidence. There’s no proof Mitch pulled the trigger. But the evidence against him is quite damning. They have the means, motive, and opportunity. The perfect trifecta in a criminal case.”
“We’ll need to find out who did it.”
“Yes. Otherwise . . .” He combs his fingers through his hair. “At the very least he’ll end up in jail for the next twenty years.”
“And at the very worst?”
His expression turns bleak. “The unthinkable.”
I shudder. “You won’t let that happen to him. You’ll find a way. You’ll see.”
He drops a kiss on my lips and hugs me. “Wish I could be that sure.”
I have to take his mind off this. Otherwise, he’ll brood. “Dinner won’t be ready for an hour. Want to take a shower?”
His lips curl up in a wicked grin. “If you join me.”
“I think I may do just that.”
Chapter 38
Cristina
I’m lying on my bed feeling sorry for myself when there’s a knock on the door.
“Coming.” Wiping the tears from my face, I throw the door open.
Hunter stands on the other side. Since dinner a week ago, we’ve observed a state of détente. As long as he doesn’t lob a salvo, I’m willing to keep the peace between us. “Oh. It’s you.” I can’t stand the wistful tone to my voice.
“It’s me. You got a letter from the Justice Department. It’s probably that job offer you’ve been waiting for.” He holds out the envelope, and I take it from him.
“Thanks.” I plop down on the bed and tear it open. Sure enough, it’s my offer of employment. All I have to do is sign the document and return it in the envelope they very kindly provided. I toss the whole thing on the bed like it’s nothing important.
His brow scrunches. “I thought that’s what you wanted.”
“It is.”
“What’s wrong?”
I glance at him. “I don’t know. I wish I did.”
Sitting next to me, he stretches his long legs on the carpet. “Talk to me.”
I breathe out a sigh. “My whole life I’ve wanted nothing but to be a lawyer and fight for justice.”
He taps the envelope. “You got that.”
“Yeah, I did.” I rest my head against his shoulder and breathe him in. He smells of clean sweat and that scent that’s uniquely him. The combination of those two makes me mad with longing, wishing for things I can’t possibly have. “I’ve come to realize it’s not enough.”
“So what would be enough?”
Sitting upright, I let out a sigh. “I’ll let you know when I figure it out.”
He laughs and brushes his thumb across my cheek. The air heats between us, and he leans down to lick my bottom lip. I moan, which gives him all the permission he needs to devour me. He tilts my head so he can get a better angle, sinks his tongue into my mouth, and explores every inch of it.
No. This can’t happen. I’m in enough trouble as it is. I put my hand on his chest and push him away. “We shouldn’t. Not here.”
“Somewhere else, then?” he asks hopefully.
I laugh. “You’re horrible. No. Not here. Not anywhere. I don’t need complications. And you are most definitely a complication.”
“Just once, for old time’s sake.”
“What old time’s sake? We only did it the once.”
Groucho Marx–style, his brows hitch up and down. “We did it several times as I recall.”
Why, oh, why does he have to have a sense of humor too? A man who can make me laugh is my Kryptonite. “Please don’t tempt me. Not in my weakened state.”
Crooking two fingers beneath my chin, he kisses me so very sweetly. Who knew he had that in him? Before I’m ready for it to end, he lets me go. “Very well. If that is what you wish.”
He comes to his feet and heads to the door, but I don’t let him get there. “Stop.”
Turning around, he waits for my next words.
“Do you have condoms?”
He pats his pocket.
“Lock the door.”
He does and walks back to the bed. By the time he gets to me, I’m already tossing my T-shirt over the side, unclasping my bra.
Going by his heated gaze, he definitely approves. “I didn’t get to see you clearly that night. This time I mean to explore every inch of you.”
Falling back on the mattress, I spread my arms wide. “Explore away, Mr. Stone.”
“With pleasure, Ms. Sanchez.”
I sit upright when he goes for his belt. With one foot on the floor and the other on the bed, I push his hands away. “Wait, let me do it.” I unclasp the buckle, snap the belt loose.
His breathing stutters as I stroke the outside of his slacks. When I measure his length, he hisses in a breath. “Witch.” Tangling a hand through my hair, he pulls back my head. Off-kilter as I am, I lose my balance and bump into the night table. A figurine crashes to the floor and breaks.
“Damn. That’s an antique,” I say. “Madrigal is going to kill me.”
He gets this queer look on his face as he stares down at the broken pieces. One by one, he picks them up. “No. It’s not. See.” He shows me the bottom with “Made in China” stamped on it.
“What is that inside?” I point to a metal contraption stuck to one of the pieces.
His mouth twists. “A fucking bug. Someone planted it in your room and used it to record you.”
“Why would anybody do that?”
“To gather information. What else?” He throws on his shirt, slaps on his belt. I hurry to get dressed, but the bra clasp is tricky, and he throws open the door before I’m done.
Just as I snap the clasp, Madison appears in her doorway on the other side of the hall. She takes one look at Hunter and me and does the math. “Great. Everyone’s having sex but me.” Her gaze bounces from Hunter to me and back again. “What’s going on?” Obviously, she’s noticed the worried look on our faces.
“We found a bug in my room.”
“Ooh, disgusting. What was it? Did you kill it?”
“Not that kind of bug,” I say. “A listening device.”
“Do you know where your sister and Steele are?” Hunter asks.
“In there.” She points to the room at the end of the hallway and makes a face. “They’re probably doing it right now too, so I wouldn’t interrupt if I were you.”
She’s got sex on the brain, this girl. But who am I to judge when I do as well?
Hunter pounds on the door she pointed out. “Steele, Madrigal!”
When nobody answers, he turns back to Madison. “Are you sure they’re in there?”
She throws open her arms. “Where else would they be?”
Hunter raises his fist to pound on the door again, but before he can do that, it opens. A definitely pissed off Steele stands on the other side wearing only a pair of boxer shorts. “Is the house on fire?”
“No.”
“Is anybody hurt?”
“Not as far as I know.”
Steele almost slams the door shut in Stone’s face, but Stone slaps a hand against the wood, stopping him. “We found a listening device in Cristina’s room.”
“What?” Madrigal appears
with a robe belted around her. Her hair’s wet, and so is Steele’s. Obviously, they were both in the shower. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what they were doing.
“Get dressed, both of you,” Hunter orders. “We’re going hunting for bugs.”
That’s when I look down and realize I’m wearing only a bra and panties.
Dinner is pushed back while the five of us, including Madison, look for listening devices. By the end of an hour, we’ve searched every room in the house and found fourteen. All of them identical.
“These weren’t here when I first came to work for you,” Hunter says. “I swept every room at that time and found nothing.”
“So they’ve been installed since then,” Steele returns.
“Yes.”
“Which means it’s an inside job.”
“Yes.”
“Someone from the staff planted those bugs. Someone I trusted,” Madrigal says.
“And more than likely that someone is connected to Holden’s death,” Steele says.
Chapter 39
Trenton
Unable to believe she’s been betrayed by someone she trusts, Madrigal cried herself to sleep. But the sad truth is she doesn’t suspect the cruelest betrayer of all. It’s two in the morning, and everyone’s asleep. I roll out of bed and silently make my way through the house to the room she first assigned to me, the room to which I have the only key.
I nod to the guard on duty and, without saying a word, slip into the bedchamber. He won’t think anything of it. He knows I use the space as my home office. In truth, it’s so much more than that.
The safe her grandfather owned sits in one corner. A second one he hid behind one of the bookcases. Every once in a while, the knowledge I learned in my miserable youth comes in handy. So with very little effort, I’d figured out its combination. Holden’s secrets lie within, secrets he never wanted to see light. Now it guards mine as well.
Her mother’s journals, the ones that supposedly got burned.
I retrieve the diaries, the ones that cover the last four months of Marlena Berkeley’s life. They’re the keepers of her sins, the things she did, the lies she told. In truth, I should have burned them, but something kept me from obliterating those last few months of her existence. I substituted her mother’s journals. The ones that perched in the sitting room, unread, unloved. No one noticed they’ve gone missing. Those are the ones I set on fire that day.
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