“Madison!” Running to her sister’s side, Madrigal throws her arms around her. “You’re safe.”
Madison stares at her sister like she’s grown two heads. “Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“You ran out of the house hours ago right into a raging storm. As upset as you were, I thought you’d ended in a ditch somewhere.”
Madison hangs her head. “I’m sorry I worried you, Mad. I just had to get away after reading our mother’s . . .”
Madrigal hugs her. “I’m so sorry you found her journal, sweetheart. I should have hidden it, but I was so upset myself, I wasn’t thinking straight before I ran out of the house.”
“You ran out, same as I did, without telling anyone.”
“It was the middle of the night, Madison.”
“You could have left a note. There I was all alone after having read that.” She leans her head against her horse’s neck. “It was horrible.”
“I’m so sorry.”
Madison wipes the tears from her face. “Where were you? Where did you go?”
Madrigal nods toward me. “To his place.”
Her sister’s brown-eyed gaze makes me feel like a bug under a microscope. “Who’s he?”
“Trenton Steele.”
“Your boss? Why would you go to him?”
Madrigal rubs her sister’s back. “He’s more than my boss, sweetheart. He’s my . . . friend.”
Telling her sister we’re lovers is out of the question.
“Why didn’t you call to let us know you’re safe?” Madrigal asks.
“I didn’t want to be found.”
Madrigal sweeps her hand down Madison’s back. “Why?”
“He knew. Gramps knew what our father did to our mother.”
“Only after the murders.”
Madison shakes her head. “He knew before that.”
“Why do you think that?”
“He came to our house the night our parents were killed.”
“No, he didn’t. The police contacted him in the morning.”
“He was there, Madrigal. I saw him outside.”
CHAPTER 29
Madrigal
Madison’s words throw me for a loop. She saw our grandfather at the house the night of our parents’ murders? She was four—too young to realize the significance, but apparently old enough to know what she saw.
“Why didn’t you tell me this before?”
“I forgot about it. Until I saw those pictures. And then it started coming back. My nightmares? They were like the newspaper photos, snapshots of that night. And then today . . . when I read the diary, the memories flooded back.”
“You remembered seeing him that night?”
“Yes.”
“Did he see you, Madison?”
“No.”
“Did you go downstairs to our parents’ bedroom?” Please God, let that not be what happened.
“No. I woke up in the middle of the night having to pee. I didn’t want to wet the bed, so I got up to go to the bathroom. After flushing the toilet, I saw a light go on outside.”
“We had motion sensor lights around the perimeter of our house,” I explain to Steele.
“The window in the bathroom was too high for me to see out, but the one in the hallway wasn’t. I peeked through the curtains. That’s when I saw Gramps in the backyard.”
“You sure it was him?”
“Yes. The outside light shone full bright on him.”
“What was he doing?”
“Digging up Scruffy’s grave.”
“Who’s Scruffy?” Steele asks.
“Our Scottish terrier. He’d died recently. What did he want with our dog’s grave?”
“I don’t know. When he looked over his shoulder at the house, I ran back to bed and hid under the covers. I knew I wasn’t supposed to leave my room. The next morning he came and told me about Mom and Dad. I was afraid to say anything. And then you went away, and I was all alone with only Olivia to protect me from him.”
“He wouldn’t hurt you. He’s your grandfather.”
“He doesn’t like me. He never did. He’s always looked at me differently from the way he looks at you.”
“That’s not true, Madison. He loves us both the same. But we’ll need to ask him about that night.”
Madison shakes her head. “He already knows I know. I blurted it out today when I argued with him. I came right out and asked him what he hid in Scruffy’s grave.”
“And what did he say?”
“He said I dreamed up the whole thing. But I didn’t. I didn’t, Madrigal.” Her gaze grows wild. She’s had enough to deal with today, so I pat her back in an attempt to calm her down.
“I believe you. We’ll find out why he doesn’t want us to know the truth. But first I need to let him know you’re okay.”
“Fine. But I’m not staying in that house another day with him.”
“We’ll figure out something. I promise.”
After we call Gramps and let him know we found Madison, we make arrangements with the Middleburg Stables to house Marigold until Hartley can fetch her in a horse trailer.
We ride back home in silence while everyone’s thoughts grind away. Once we arrive, Olivia sweeps Madison up the stairs for a hot bath, clean clothes, and food.
Together with Steele, I walk into Gramps’s study to confront him about what happened the night my parents died. Mitch is still there, and the atmosphere between them is tense.
“How is she?” Gramps asks.
“Physically, she’s fine. Emotionally, she’s a wreck.” Like I am. “Madison said she saw you at our house the night our parents died.”
That gets Mitch’s attention. “Holden, you were there?”
“Of course not. She was confused. She was only four at the time.”
“She’s pretty clear about it. She saw you digging up Scruffy’s grave.”
“She saw something like that and kept it secret for twelve years? What nonsense.” But his eyes tell a different story. He’s afraid. The question is of what.
“She blocked it out and only remembered it when”—I can’t tell him about the photos Madison took from the newspaper—“when she read our mother’s journal.”
“She’s lying.” His voice trembles with emotion.
“Why would she do that?”
“She resents my discipline and is trying to gain sympathy from you.”
“Madison is not that manipulative.”
“Then how do you explain it?”
“She was only four. Our parents had been killed, and you put me in a mental health facility. Her entire family vanished in the blink of an eye. She probably thought she would disappear as well if she spoke up. So she buried it deep in her psyche, forgetting what she’d seen until our mother’s diary brought back her memories.”
He points a trembling finger at Steele. “Why is he here? This is family business.”
“I told you. He’s helping me investigate my parents’ murders.”
He passes a hand over his brow. “Did you? I can’t remember.”
Oh, God. He’s losing it. “I talked to one of them, Grandfather.”
His eyes are hazy. “One of who?”
“The handymen who broke into our house. He says they didn’t kill them.”
“And you believe some crack addict?”
“I do. He liked Mom. She was nice to him. Fed him and provided drinks. He wouldn’t have killed her.”
“That didn’t stop him from robbing the place that night. When he was arrested, they tested him for drugs. He still had amphetamines in his system, which meant he was high when he broke into your house. I bet you didn’t know that.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Amphetamines stay in the body f
or one to two days, but a high only lasts for twelve hours,” Steele says. “So he could have been clean at the time he broke into the house.”
That’s how Steele makes his money. By poking holes in a prosecutor’s case. And in the circumstances surrounding my parents’ murders as well.
“Whose side are you on, Trenton?” Grandfather snaps.
“Madrigal’s and the truth’s.”
“Well, you’re not going to get it by badgering me.”
“When I badger you, you’ll know it, Holden. This whole thing reeks of chicanery and deception. You were there that night. I can see it in your eyes. You’re hiding something, and I’m going to find out what.”
“No. You will not. You have no right to investigate a thing.”
“Madrigal asked me to look into her parents’ murders. She’s an adult with a right to hire me. And I promise you, I’m going to get to the truth.”
Grandfather’s face turns ruddy, and he pounds on the antique oak desk our family has owned for generations. “Damn you to hell and back. Get out and stay out. You’re not welcome here anymore. And that goes for you too, Mitchell.”
Devastated by the turn of events, I curl my hands around my middle. These men, arguably the most important in my life, are tearing each other apart. And I can’t stop any of it.
Without saying a word to Gramps, Mitchell walks out of the study, and Steele and I follow him. As soon as we’re in the foyer, Mitchell turns to me. “He’s afraid of something coming out.”
“Yes. That much is clear. I don’t know if it’s that my father beat my mother or something much worse.”
He wraps an arm around my shoulders in a fatherly sort of way. “He’ll stop at nothing to protect his secret.”
“Like putting me in a mental health facility after my parents’ murders? Maybe he did it to keep Madison and me apart. He must have seen her that night when he looked back at the house. She was the only other person there. Maybe the light in the hallway gave her away. Maybe he separated us to keep Madison from telling me what she’d seen.”
“I’m not going to wait for something to happen,” Mitch says. “You need to come with me. You and Madison. Right now.”
He’s right. I don’t know what Gramps will do. I glance up the stairs. “We need to pack some things.”
“I’ll wait,” Mitch says.
“No. Tonight. After he’s asleep. If we leave now, he’ll get upset. I don’t want to be the cause of another heart attack.”
“He’ll still be upset in the morning.”
“Yes, but we’ll be long gone. He can’t yell and scream at us if we’re not here. Mitch, Madison’s not yet eighteen. You’ll be charged with kidnapping or something worse if they find her with you.”
Steele steps in. “They won’t find her. I promise you that. We’ll come for you at midnight. Wait on the street outside the gates. Don’t let the security cameras see you.” He embraces me, drops a kiss on my lips. “I hate like hell to leave you.”
“He won’t do anything to us.”
The door of Gramps’s study bursts open. He steps into the vestibule and glares at us. “Are you still here? I thought I told you both to get out.”
“They’re leaving, Gramps.”
“I swear to God, if you don’t leave in the next minute, I’ll horsewhip both of you.”
“Go on,” I say, pushing both men out the door. Once it’s closed behind them, I face Gramps. “There, they’re gone.”
“You’re never to see either of them again.” Spittle flows from his mouth.
It won’t do to argue with him, not in the state he’s in. So I turn my back on him and climb the stairs without saying another word.
CHAPTER 30
Trenton
By mutual agreement, Mitch and I drive to his house to figure out arrangements for Madrigal and Madison.
“They can’t stay with you. And they can’t be separated,” I say.
“I know. My house is the first place he’d look.”
“How long until Madison turns eighteen?” I ask.
“A year and a half.”
“Madison can file for emancipated minor status, or Madrigal could file for custody of her sister.”
Mitch shakes his head. “Madrigal won’t get custody of her sister, and no judge would grant Madison emancipated minor status. Holden will fight both, tooth and nail. And he’d win. He has the money and the power to make it happen. While Madrigal will be free of him once she gets access to her trust fund in September, she wouldn’t have Madison. And that old man is ornery enough to keep them apart. So we’ll need to find a place where Madison will be safe until she turns eighteen.”
“Holden will have kidnapping charges filed against you.”
“No, he won’t. He’s too proud to admit something’s wrong. Once the girls are safe, I’ll get him to see reason. As long as we don’t publicly humiliate him by filing for custody or emancipated minor status for Madison, he’ll go along with the plan. And if he tries anything, I have an ace up my sleeve.”
I’m not so sure Holden will give in so easily, but we have to get both sisters out of that house. Holden’s clearly losing his hold on reality. No telling what he’d do.
“You sure you want to be involved in this?” Mitch peers closely at me. “If things head south, you might be risking your career.”
“Yeah, I’m sure.” I’m in too deep with Madrigal to walk away.
“What exactly is she to you?”
“I told you. I’m helping her investigate her parents’ murders.”
“You tell yourself what you want to, Trenton. But it’s clear she’s more than a client.”
He’s right, but I’m not about to lay claim to feelings for Madrigal when I can’t even admit them to myself.
“So where should we put them until we settle things with Holden?” Mitch asks.
“I have a plan. One that won’t connect them to either of us. All we need to make is a sizable donation. In cash, of course.”
“Nothing shady, I hope?”
I laugh. “No. As a matter of fact, it’s about as far from shady as you can get.”
A couple of hours later we’ve ironed out the details. I head for my condo to shower and change clothes. Our plan calls for us to meet up at a mall near Holden’s estate and then drive to the mansion together, spring the girls, and hand them off to someone else. To keep anyone from identifying my car, I borrow one from an acquaintance. It’s old and black with tags that can’t be traced. Perfect for our purposes.
As I’m about to leave to pick up the car, my phone rings. Madrigal.
“Steele.” Her voice thrums with emotion.
“What’s wrong?”
“He took her.”
“Who took her?”
“Brad’s father. He took Madison.”
“What?”
“Gramps called him. Brad’s father showed up. Gramps claimed Madison was a danger to herself and to us. He had her committed to the same facility I was in.”
Brad’s father is a doctor and part owner of several medical facilities. Obviously, Holden is in cahoots with him.
“We have to get her out. God only knows what they’ll do to her at that place.”
I have to wonder what they did to Madrigal while she was there.
“Get out of the house. Wait for us outside the gate,” I tell her. “Now. Mitch and I are on our way.”
“I can’t. He locked my door.” Her voice wavers. She’s petrified.
“Son of a bitch. He’s insane.”
“I’m scared to death about Madison.”
She should be, as well as for herself. Holden seems to have lost his sanity. “You remember how I jammed the chair against the motel door the night of the hurricane?”
“Yes.”
“I want you to d
o the same thing with your desk chair.”
“Okay.” The damn thing won’t do much against someone determined to break into her room, but at least it’d buy her some time.
“Sweetheart. It’ll be all right, I promise. Mitch and I will be there as soon as we can.”
“Hurry. Please.”
I want to laugh at the please code word, but I’m too scared for her to do so.
The conversation with Mitch goes as well as can be expected. Going to his house first would take too long, so we drive separate cars to Holden’s estate. We meet at the front gate. Of course it’s locked, but that won’t keep me out. For once I’m grateful for my misspent youth.
“Call Holden,” I tell Mitchell. “Keep him busy talking, threaten him with whatever you have to. Say anything. Just don’t let him off the phone.”
I drive to the side road where the property is surrounded by a six-foot-high brick wall with a wrought-iron spike fence at the top. Might be hard for the common burglar to break in, but not impossible. I’d brought a ninja grappling hook attached to a rope. Praying it doesn’t set off an alarm, I throw it over the fence. When no alarms ring out, I scale the wall to the top. On the other side is the area Madrigal identified as the paddock where the horses are exercised. But before I land there, I have to climb over the wrought-iron spikes. One false step could cause major damage to the family jewels. Treading carefully, I manage to make it to the other side without incident.
After my feet touch the ground, I pause, expecting motion sensor lights or alarms to go off. To my surprise, nothing happens. Either no security system exists, which I seriously doubt, or somebody turned it off. Something rings in the back of my head. The similarity of this situation to the night Madrigal’s parents were killed is not lost on me.
I make a beeline for the stable. A noise nearby has me ducking for cover next to the horse trailer that must have brought Marigold home. The stable itself sits about fifty yards from the house, next to the garage. Earlier, I’d spotted a ladder in the garage. Since I can’t very well knock on the front door and ask nicely if Madrigal can come out and play, I’ll use it to get her out. I text her to let her know I’m here. She flickers the lights in her room. Message read and acknowledged. Her room’s located on the far end of the house. About twenty feet up. The ladder should reach that high. It’s child’s play to break the lock on the side door to the garage. Given the value of some of the luxury cars inside, I expect alarms to ring, but again I hear nothing. I grab the ladder off the hook. The damn thing isn’t heavy, but it’s cumbersome to carry. I trip over something in the grass—a sprinkler?—and my knee hits the ground.
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