“I can’t believe I forgot all that,” I say, absentmindedly. Processing hasn’t even begun yet. It might take me months to come to terms with those simple childhood memories.
My mother pets my hair. “Why are you asking now? It’s been so long.”
“No reason,” I say, shrugging. “Just the photo. It’s funny how we block out so many things as we grow older.”
“If we remembered everything, our heads would explode,” my mom says, patting my thigh. “Where do you want to go for dinner?”
“Wherever you want,” I say, getting up. “I just need to freshen up and make a few calls.”
In the room I still consider my own, the room where I grew up reading my beloved childhood books by Dr. Seuss, C.S. Lewis and Madeleine L’Engle, playing board games and gluing glow-in-the-dark stars to the walls, I’m finally able to let out a deep sigh.
A horde of thoughts rush against my skull fighting for a way out. It’s easy to start making assumptions about Jaxson’s motives and intentions, easy to convince myself I understand completely what drives him.
But can anything be that easy? People are complicated. There are still so many unanswered questions—like, how long has Jax been collecting information about me? What did he plan to do with it? When did he realize I was Madison’s stepsister? Why all the secrecy? Why didn’t he just tell me who he was? I gave him every chance in the world to come clean. I don’t even know how many times I asked him what he really wanted.
And then there’s the one giant, nagging question I’ve been trying to avoid asking. Did he kill Maddy? Did I just sleep with a psychotic murderer who happens to be obsessed with me? Am I his next mark?
Questions that have no rational answers are not good for the soul—not when everything around you hangs in the balance. What I need now is a cool head and enough strength to face Jaxson. Because no matter how difficult it is, no matter how many barriers have been raised between us, the only thing I know for sure is that I have to talk to him.
I have to look into his eyes and ask for the truth. There’s no way in hell he can lie to me now. Even if he tries, I’ll see it deep inside him, in little Jack Caleb’s lost eyes.
Scrolling through my address book in my phone, I stop at Donald Jameson’s number. I’m thankful Esposito took the time to provide me with a list of phone numbers I might find useful for the investigation.
Jameson might be my best shot at getting the answer I need. He answers almost instantly. He recognizes my name and he’s eager to take my call—who would have thought?
“Have you heard the dreadful news, Miss Wade?” he says. “The police have arrested Jaxson. It’s a terrible mistake. How could this happen? The boy’s innocent. I’m sure of it.”
“That’s right,” I say slowly, picking my words. “I agree with you. It’s a mistake. That’s why I’m calling. I have a question for you that might help me prove his innocence.” I’m getting good at hiding my thoughts. Not a trait I was looking to develop, but this world seems to require it.
“Oh, really?” Jameson says in a way that could indicate he either realizes I’m full of shit or hopes he can get rid of me if he just plays along. One thing’s for sure, he’s not convinced.
“Yes,” I say, escalating my charade. “Could you tell me if Jaxson wears contact lenses?”
“He does indeed,” Jameson answers quickly, sounding intrigued. “He had corrective laser surgery a few years back and his vision improved but he still needs lenses. Is that helpful?”
“More than you would think,” I say, a chill settling in my belly as my suspicions are confirmed yet again.
“How does it relate to the case?”
I’ve piqued his interest but I really have nothing to give him. “I need to go,” I say, hanging up on one of the most powerful men in town.
With the new knowledge still fresh and unprocessed in my head, I rush out of the room. As I pass by my mother’s room, I stop outside the door. I knock but when there’s no answer, I push the door open.
My mother has lived a solitary life but never seemed to mind it. Her room is neat and clean with her books alphabetically organized on the shelves, only two of them by her bedside, exactly as I remember it since I was a child.
On a shelf, a row of framed photos hide the spines of the books. My face at all ages dominates the pictures, but there are a few of my Aunt Beth and her children.
And then there’s a single, unforgettable picture of Madison. She must be thirteen. Her eyes glimmer with the same quality that would one day mesmerize the world. Oh, Maddy, you sweet, sad girl.
Madison never lived in this house. My mother and I moved in with them. Jim’s house was bigger and closer to his work. We did come here occasionally to spend time at the ocean two blocks away, or when Mom had the carpets cleaned or the walls painted at the main house.
There are few but precious memories of Madison running through this house and now there are memories of Jax as well. God, how did this happen? There will always be a heaviness now hovering above every image of my past, a weight from which I might never fully escape.
Tears stream down my cheeks without my permission. I am on the outside of myself. This is not really happening. Even the pain feels hollow in my chest as sobs well and fester. It hits me that I’ve been in denial ever since I heard about Madison’s death, blocking the anguish, keeping my head pinned to a job that is less than meaningless to me.
The more I pace the hallway, peeking through doors into empty rooms, the more the past haunts. Jax’s childhood accident rises like a serpent from some dark dungeon of my subconscious. It’s not a distant echo entwined in my mother’s narration anymore. It’s a tangible, screaming memory that shakes me to the core.
The day little Jack was released from the hospital he left town with his mother. Shortly thereafter, my father left never to return. They were both gone forever and I could feel it just as sure as part of me left with them.
At the end of the hallway my mother meets me with a warm smile. She has always been there for me. I shut her out. I shut everything out.
“You ready?” she says.
I smile for her. She’s been through so much.
My mother has been here the whole time, through all the tragedy and the leaving and the loneliness, but where have I been?
Where have I been my whole life?
—three—
Jaxson
There is no privacy in jail even when you’re in a cell by yourself. It constantly feels like a thousand eyes are watching you, drilling holes through your skull to read your thoughts. As soon as I step out of the Beverly Hills police station, I appreciate the precious gift of freedom and with it the self-worth, self-determination, and privacy that come with it.
I spot Elaine waiting for me, chatting with a younger woman. For a second or two, I allow myself to hope it might be Ella even if the two look nothing alike. I can blame my lack of sleep and the fact I haven’t heard from Ella this whole time. Not a single word. Not good for my mental stability.
Lingering on the steps, I wonder if there’s a way to escape Elaine’s attention when a voice takes me by surprise.
“May I have a word, Mr. Cole?” Esposito says.
I turn back where Esposito stares at me from the entrance of the building, hands in pockets. I walk to him, already cursing my bad luck to find myself stuck between Elaine Parker and Rick Esposito, two people that will do anything in their power to keep me away from Ella.
I have a brutal aversion to the well-dressed detective and it’s not because he was the one to arrest me. It’s because of the look in his eyes when he realized Ella and I were together. The bastard has his eye on her and I’ll be damned if I let him lay a single finger on her.
“Detective, what’s up?” My acting training better fucking pay off so this guy doesn’t figure out I detest him.
Esposito throws a heavy glare at me, taking in the slight bruising of my nose. “You might have high-octane lawyers and a lot of coin be
hind you, but this isn’t the end.”
“Is that all?”
“Here’s what I don’t understand. “You’re famous, rich and you get laid a lot. What the fuck is wrong with you? What’s enough?”
“Back off, freak. I could sue you for harassment.”
“Yeah, I’ll back off,” he says coldly. “If you leave that poor girl alone.”
Fuck him and his indirect threats. I know what he’s trying to do. He wants to get in my face so I do something stupid and get tossed back in jail.
Elaine waves me over. I take the opportunity to leave Esposito behind.
“You could give me some time to shower,” I tell her as she ushers me to her car.
“You look stunning as always, Jaxson, and this can’t wait,” she says with a smile so fake it would break a lie detector.
“Elaine, just stop. One more mention of how I look and I’ll snap. I’ve been locked up for forty-eight hours. I’ve barely slept and I have no idea what’s happening.”
“You have made good use of your looks so far,” she says, her eyes turning hostile. “You can’t just turn the switch off every time it suits you.”
“And why is that? Why have I relied on my looks for so long? It was the fastest way to get away from all the shit you’re trying to drag me back to.”
“And yet, here you are. You didn’t have to get in my car, Jax. I could hardly make you do anything you didn’t want to do.”
I swear, I could strangle the bitch. We both know it’s not her pulling my strings. She’s a messenger, nothing more than a lackey to my uncle.
“You messed up,” she goes on. “Put the blame where it belongs.”
The HQ building looms in the distance as we turn onto a narrow private street. I haven’t set foot on these grounds for months but nothing has changed. It’s so quiet it’s eerie. The lion fountains, the tall pine trees, the gloomy entrance with the angry gargoyles are all right where I left them.
We enter the reception area after Elaine punches in the door code. The only things that have changed are the numbers in the code.
Two security men in impeccable black suits show up to escort me to the main briefing room that features a wall of mirrors behind which my uncle can watch everything when he’s so inclined.
The room is empty, heavy blinds drawn down on all windows. I have hated this place since I was a child and my mother first brought me in to meet her brother, Uncle Lucius Bernard. As much as she tried, she could not make this mausoleum appealing to a child.
Jazz music—Uncle’s favorite—starts lazily playing as I take a seat at the long table. A screen pops up at the head where my uncle would normally sit.
Great. Lucius will be talking to me through some secure feed like we’re in a spy movie. That’s a new one. Uncle Lucius is finally catching up with technology, or maybe technology is catching up with him.
“I’m glad you’re a free man, Jack,” he says smiling. His hairline has retreated a bit more since the last time I saw him but other than that, he looks the same: dark hair, robust shoulders under an expensive brown cashmere jacket and a weak jaw that has always bothered him.
“Am I?” I say, void of emotion.
“Your legal problems have been taken care of.”
“By the same hand that created them.”
He lifts his head, his little eyes narrowing down to a slit. “Jack, you disappoint me, son. Is that what you think of me?”
Christ, I hate it when he acts all holy and innocent. He’s never innocent. Even when he’s not guilty, he’s not innocent.
“I’m not a fool, Uncle. We both know what your capabilities are.”
His expression turns severe. “This is no time for petulance. I’d never frame my sister’s only child. Everything I have done was necessity. Always. Don’t play dumb. You can’t make an omelet without breaking some shells.”
“Except you break people.”
“Would you like to be sitting in this chair? Do you think there are any easy decisions? How long would you last in my position?”
“That’s never happening so the point is moot.” I honestly don’t know exactly what he does. I’ve only ever been afforded glimpses. He runs an underworld organization that trades in exports and imports, dealing in nefarious commodities including secrets. The kind of stuff that goes boom in the night and topples both criminal and real empires.
The irony is I’m supposed to be his only heir.
On the screen, my uncle glances back over his shoulder at something or someone I cannot see. “It’s easy to talk with such insolence when you have nothing to lose,” he says, returning his attention to me.
That’s fucking hilarious. The organized crime kingpin who damaged my childhood beyond repair thinks I have nothing to lose. “You’d think that because I’ve lost everything already, right? Well, even the most wretched creature can find something of worth. Ever seen Lord of the Rings? There’s a point, big guy, at which everyone should make a stand.”
“Stop testing my patience, Jack. You know what’s at stake.”
I’m growing sick and tired of his word games. “We messed up, all of us, me included. I’ll give you that. But you… you fucked us all royally. An innocent girl is dead and she’s not the kind people forget.”
“That was unfortunate, Jack, but it was not within our control.”
Fuck his tomblike calm when someone else has paid the price. “Did you have Madison killed because she was getting too close to your goon?” I say this partly to irritate him and partly because the thought just popped up in my head and I don’t give a shit.
Wolf, the man Madison was seeing at the club was on my uncle’s payroll once.
Lucius leans in so his face almost touches the camera. “You never say that again, not to me, not to anyone, not to yourself. Is that clear?”
“Or what? Will you have me killed too?”
I’m pushing him like Esposito pushed me, so he might explode and this charade could come to a thundering end but the bastard sits back in his chair, calmly considering my words.
“I want to protect you, Jack,” he says finally, “but I don’t have the power I once had. New blood has assumed crucial posts in the organization. If someone wants to come after you, I might not be able to stop them. You have to promise me you’ll keep quiet.”
“It’s not like I know anything. You’ve intentionally kept me in the dark.”
“If you could shut your mouth, you might hear something useful.”
Through the distorting lens of the secure feed, his features focus on me with an undeniable sincerity. For better or worse, I’m about to find out why Madison was murdered. I feel it in my bones that the truths that are about to be revealed will be worse than any lies he could ever utter.
“Go on,” I say, swallowing spit.
“Your friend Madison’s death was accidental. It was a mix-up, not by us, but by Bronson’s crew. They arranged the murder.”
The Bronson family is a syndicate of professional assassins and drug enforcers, the worst kind of killers, the kind that whistle when they work.
“What kind of mix-up? Why would they want Madison dead?” I say, my voice losing strength. “Because of me?”
“Because of Carter Wade,” Lucius says with a bent brow.
Electricity simmers in my bloodstream. “Carter Wade?”
“Yeah, I’m afraid so. He messed with the Bronson family and they want to break him slowly and methodically. They thought Madison was his daughter.”
Everything races from my stomach to my throat. The room spins as I can’t focus my eyes on anything, not my hands, not my uncle’s face.
“Did you hear me, Jax?” Lucius asks quietly, almost gently.
I nod. “They thought Madison was his daughter,” I say. “The one they intended to kill was Ella.”
He almost grins when he sees I’m finally getting it. “Do you see now why you have to stay away? They’ll never rest until it is accomplished.”
“How
could they mistake Madison as his real daughter?”
“It’s possible Carter planted that fabrication in Bronson’s files. He’s a master at false information flow. The elements were all there. He just had to add the details.”
“He sacrificed Madison to protect his real daughter.” It is all so fucked up it starts to make sense. Everyone in my uncle’s circle of influence is some form of evil lunatic.
“Sometimes,” Lucius says, but then can’t find more words.
“Shells break?” I say. “For fuck’s sake, if you try to justify what he did, I’ll lose it. Madison was a friend. She had many flaws but she wasn’t evil like all of us, like Carter. She did not deserve this, to die such a horrible death.”
“No argument here,” Lucius agrees flippantly. “Now pipe down and listen to me. If you hang out with the girl, you’ll draw attention to her. I had to mobilize the entire organization to keep her name out of the papers when you took her out on a public date. What the hell were you thinking? Even if you didn’t know she had a target on her back, you knew she was Carter’s daughter.”
“Fuck Carter,” I say.
“Yeah, fuck Carter, great, but that doesn’t change what Carter is.”
Fuck Carter and the whole damn organization and their petty brawls over money and territories. “I need to find Ella. She’s not safe.”
“I can read your thoughts, Jack. You’ll get yourself killed and the girl. Carter’s little trick only worked before the murder details hit the press. The Bronsons know Madison was not the one, they know they were duped. Your framing was a message to that effect. They sent us a message. Being loyal to the organization should be your number one concern right now. We’ll protect the girl. Carter has security on her already but we’ll add some of our own.”
“What the hell are you talking about? How long before she figures it out? I’m taking her out of the country.”
“Jack,” he pronounces my name slowly, almost dragging the vowel out, to get my attention. “You need to let her go. Wake up, my boy. How long are you going to pine after that girl? I know you knew her before. This is not your life. Princesses and movie stars would give themselves up to you. Your destiny is greatness. Don’t die over a childhood crush.”
Scandal: The Complete Series Page 10
