by Adams,Claire
"Party," he smiled. "I was partying with the crew!"
"Where were you partying, Beck?"
"The boat, man," he said raising his right hand in a fist and causing the officer standing guard to open the door and look at me. I shook my head and he closed the door, leaving us alone.
"What boat?" I asked.
"The big one, dude!" he laughed. "Man, we had a blast! There was coke everywhere, and R'nR brought the party kit!"
"R'nR?" I asked. It was obvious that Beck was a serious junkie, just as Dax had warned.
"Yeah, you know, rest and relax! R'nR!" he laughed at his own joke, but came no closer to explaining who R'nR were. I made a note of it on my legal pad and circled it.
"Beck, why did they arrest you today?" I asked. "Do you know why?"
"Yeah," he said with a frown. "I punched a cop. They didn't like it. I didn't mean to, though."
I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing. It wasn't funny that Beck didn't know why he'd been arrested, but the fantasy world he'd built for his drug-addled brain was somewhat amusing.
"No, they arrested you for trespassing," I said. "Did you know that?"
"Nope, sure didn't," he said shaking his head. "What'd I trespass on?"
"Your brother's boat," I said.
"How'd I do that?" he asked seeming genuinely confused.
"That's what I'm not sure about, Beck," I said. "Can you remember what you did earlier today? Why were you on the boat?"
"They told me to go get the stash," he said. "Said that if I got it, I could have a hit. They said that I wouldn't get in trouble, but they would."
"Who told you this?"
"R'nR! Aren't you listening to me?" he said, obviously annoyed as he picked at his fingers. "They give me what I need."
"Beck, you need to tell me who R'nR are," I said in a stern voice as I tried to hide the exasperation I felt in having to negotiate with someone whose reasoning was impaired.
"Are you gonna get me and Dax out of here?" he asked looking up at me with a childlike curiosity.
"I'm going to do my best," I said. "But you're going to have to help me."
"Okay," he nodded looking down at his hands as if seeing them for the first time.
"Beck, what did R'nR give you?"
"Mmmm, a hit," he nodded. "Yeah, they gave me a hit."
"Of what?"
"Dunno," he shrugged. "I asked and they gave it to me."
"Okay," I sighed. "Is there anything else you can tell me about why you were arrested?"
"I hit a cop," Beck giggled. "He tried to take my stash, so I hit him. It was mine!"
"Good lord, Beck!" I yelled. "Do you have any idea what you are doing to your brother?"
"No, why?" he asked. I was furious with him for putting Dax in such a perilous position in order to feed his habit, but I also knew that if he really did have a serious drug problem, it was unlikely that he was doing anything that could be considered premeditated. This made things more complicated because I couldn't point to anyone other than Dax as the potential murderer. And if I didn't have an alternative motive, I was going to have a hard time arguing that Dax should be out on bail. Getting mad at Beck wasn't going to help, though. I needed to calm down and think.
"Beck, think carefully," I said in a calm voice, approaching the questions from a totally different angle. "Who was on the boat with you when Lydia disappeared?"
"Huh?"
"You were on the boat, right?" I asked.
"Uh huh," he nodded.
"Who was on the boat with you when Lydia disappeared?"
"Who's Lydia?" he asked.
"Okay, I think we're done here," I sighed. I had to admit that perhaps Beck wasn't involved in any of this and that maybe he was simply the fall guy, but if that were the case, then why was Dax being charged with Lydia's murder? None of this made sense.
I gathered up my things and tapped on the door to let the guard know we were done. Before I left the room, I looked back over my shoulder and would have sworn that I saw Beck smiling and giving me a knowing wink. But when I blinked and looked again, he was again sitting at the table staring at his fingers.
I shook my head to clear the obvious illusion and went to find Jordie and Roger. We had work to do.
#
Later that afternoon, I appeared before the judge and argued that bail be set in both cases. The judge pushed back, asking how I could be sure that Dax wouldn't jump bail and run. I assured him that Dax's ties to the community were strong enough to keep him firmly situated in the city. I also pointed out that Dax was Beck's brother and caretaker and pointed to the history of him stepping in and making sure his brother followed the rules.
"And look where it's led, Counselor," the judge said with a grim expression.
"Your Honor, I can guarantee that Mr. Malone will appear in court as requested for all hearings," I said.
"And exactly how are you going to do that, Ms. Raines?" the judge asked.
"Myself or one of my associates will check in with Mr. Malone at regular intervals until the trial, and Mr. Malone will agree to stay within a six block radius of his office and his home."
"That's highly unusual, Ms. Raines," the judge observed. "I'm not sure that's in the best interests of you or your associates or that any of you can enforce it."
"We believe that Mr. Malone is innocent," I said simply. "We're going to do whatever it takes to prove that."
"Very well, Counselor," the judge said. "Bail is set at four million for Mr. Dax Malone, and one hundred thousand for Mr. Beck Malone."
I nodded as the spectators gasped. I had been prepared for the bail to be much higher than this, so four million sounded like a steal. Riza had arranged for the bondsman to have the paperwork ready as soon as the hearing was over. So, as soon as we signed the papers, Dax and Beck were released into my custody.
Jordie pulled up and we all climbed into the car with Dax and Beck in back. Beck began asking a series of rapid-fire questions until Dax told him to shut the hell up. He was silent until we pulled up in front of the rehab facility.
"What the fuck?" Beck yelled.
"Shut up, Beck," Dax growled. "It's for your own good."
"The fuck it is!" he shouted. "I never agreed to this! I never said I'd go to rehab!"
"This isn't about what you want, Beck." Dax sighed as he ran a hand through his hair. He looked exhausted. His eyes were weary and as he spoke, I could tell this was painful for him to do to his brother. Painful, but necessary. "You need to go to rehab. You have a problem."
"You can't do this to me, Dax!" Beck cried. Tears began flowing down his cheeks as he sobbed and begged Dax not to do this. I felt my heart breaking as I watched the two brothers. Dax trying to be strong and make the right decision, and Beck sobbing like a lost child as his brother put an arm around him and tried to assure him that everything would be okay.
"I don't want to do it, but I have to," Dax said. "Someone has to stop this and you aren't strong enough to do it yourself."
"I don't want to go," Beck said in a small voice.
"I don't want you to go, either, but you have to," Dax said as he wrapped his arms around his brother and spoke quietly. "You have to go and get sober, Beck. You can't end up like...them."
Beck looked up at Dax and nodded, and the brothers walked up to the front door together. Thirty minutes later, Dax climbed back into the car and said, "Let's go."
I looked into the backseat and saw Dax staring out the window, obviously not wanting to talk. I nodded at Jordie and we headed back to the office.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
Dax
I stared out the window the whole ride back to the club. Entering rehab was not Beck's choice, it was mine. I had to figure out who had killed Lydia so that I wouldn't take the fall for something I hadn't done, and having a junkie brother on the loose was not going to be helpful. Aside from that, I didn't want Beck to die, and if he continued using the way he had been, he was definitely upping the odds.
I watched Brooke out of the corner of my eye. Her braid had come undone on the way out of the courtroom and now her hair brushed her shoulders and framed her face. I wanted to reach out and push it aside so I could see her face, but to do so would have caused trouble for her, so I sat staring out the window and thinking about my next move as I tried to shut out the pull of her body. At one point, she turned and looked over her shoulder, catching my eye. I could see the mixture of concern and need in her bright blue eyes. I nodded and looked away.
"We're there," Jordie said as we turned the corner onto Harlem and pulled up in front of the club.
"Thanks for the ride," I said as I patted his shoulder.
"Dax, you are not to go any further than between home and the club," Brooke reminded me.
"I know, I know, you don't have to talk to me like I'm a child," I said, resenting her for the fact that I was trapped in a six-block radius.
"I'm not treating you like a child," she said. "I'm treating you like you're our client, which you are."
"Whatever," I said. "When do I need to be at your office?"
"Tomorrow afternoon," she said as she looked down at her phone. "Come around noon and we'll have lunch and talk about how we're going to prove you're innocent."
"I thought innocent people were assumed to be innocent until proven guilty," I said.
"Yeah, well, welcome to the real world," she replied. "We need all the proof we can get in order to keep you out of prison."
"I'll be there," I said as I got out of the car and slammed the door shut. I turned and walked into the club, not looking back as Jordie drove out of sight.
There was no way in hell I was going to take the fall for whoever had killed Lydia, but first I had to figure out who had done it and why.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
Brooke
I spent the afternoon at the office looking through the files that Jordie and Roger had compiled on the fly. We tried to trace Lydia's locations before she was kidnapped, and then tried to brainstorm a list of possible reasons why someone would want to kill her.
What the guys had discovered about Lydia gave us a number of leads. Her bank records showed that she was depositing large amounts of cash every month, and since her death, there had been numerous withdrawals, all for the same amount. We had no idea who else had access to her accounts, since we knew she wasn't married, nor did she have any children. I told Jordie to follow up on this with the bank.
"Where is Roger?" I asked.
"He said he had an errand to run and that he'd meet us back here later," Jordie said as he searched for Lydia's employment history and leafed through a large file that Alma had brought him.
"Find anything else?"
"It's weird," he said as he tapped the keyboard and then looked back at the screen. "She has a steady employment history up until two years ago, then it looks like she practically dropped off the map. No W2 on record, no taxes filed, nothing. It's like she didn't exist anymore."
"That's weird," I said. "She was obviously making money, lots of it. Where in the hell was it coming from?"
"Probably something we need to ask our client," Jordie said as he punched more keys and looked back at the screen and then down at the file. "This is weird, Brooke. Two days before she disappeared, she deposited a huge sum of cash, but she did it over a period of a few hours and at different branches of the same bank."
"What the hell?"
"I know, right?" he said. "She had to know that would show up in her banking records. It wasn't like they were separate banks or something."
"Unless, she wanted it to show up," I said. "Like she was trying to send a message or a signal. Do we have any records of any other accounts at other banks?"
"I hadn't checked," he said. "I assumed she did all her banking at the same place."
"Check it out," I said. "I need to get going or I'm going to be late for dinner with my parents."
"Can't you reschedule it?" Jordie asked.
"No, it's important," I replied. "I'll come back after I'm done, though. So, leave anything you find on my desk and I'll look at it."
"Who says I'll be gone?" He grinned.
"Good point," I laughed. "And, Jordie?"
"Yeah?"
"Find Roger, dammit," I said as I walked to my office, grabbed my purse and headed out to catch a cab.
#
Thirty minutes later, I got out of the car and walked up the front walk of my parent’s house. The lights were on and I could hear music and my parents’ laughter coming from inside. My mouth watered as I thought about a thick juicy hamburger with a side of my mother's zesty potato salad.
"Hey, what are you doing? Trying to invite the neighborhood for dinner?" I called as I opened the front door and walked back toward the kitchen where my parents were dancing across the linoleum to the rhythm of Santana.
"Nah, we were just waiting for the grill to heat up so we could put the burgers on," my father laughed. "I got the sudden urge to dance."
"Your father has been assigned to watch Dancing with the Stars," my mother explained as he twirled her around again. "It's not enough for him to watch it, he needs to live it!"
"You could have had a career, Pop," I said as I watched him spin my mother.
"There's no need to be a smartass," he shot back laughing. "I'm enjoying this!"
"I'm not even kidding, Pop," I said smiling. "You've got the moves of a regular Gene Kelly!"
"Come here, kiddo, let me spin you around the dance floor while your mother gets the salad ready," my father said, holding his arms out to me.
"I'll pass, Pop," I said as I perched on a stool and watched my parents work together to get dinner ready.
"Then come with me and help me with the burgers," he said as he grabbed the plate piled high with freshly made patties. "Your brother should be here any minute, and I don't want to take a chance that he'll get called in to the house without eating."
I followed my father out the back door onto the patio he and my brother had built the year before. My parents had the kind of backyard that made you forget that you were in LA and left you feeling like you'd escaped the city for some exotic spa. Teddy and my father had carved out a small space for a hand-built grill in the back of the yard, and we headed toward it.
"Brooke, we need to talk about something," my father said as he slid the burgers onto the grill and then closed the lid.
"What's up, Pop?" I said playfully punching him in the shoulder. His face was solemn and serious, though. "What is it?"
"Brookie, I know you took this Malone case because your firm needs visibility and money, but are you sure you know what you're doing?" he asked.
"Yes, why do you ask?"
"One of the city reporters passed information on to me about Dax Malone, and I'm not sure that you know exactly what you're dealing with here," he said quietly.
"Dad, he's been accused of a murder that he didn't commit," I said. "I'm not sure it gets any simpler than that."
"But, Brooke, if the source is correct, Malone is a major drug dealer," my father said with a worried look on his face. "There's talk that his lawyer was executed."
"We've been looking into that, Pop," I said, understanding his concern and wanting to reassure him that I'd be okay. "Jordie and I have found evidence that points to someone other than Dax."
"Don't be naive, kiddo," he said. "Just because he didn't do it himself doesn't mean he didn't have it done."
"Pop, look, everyone deserves a proper defense, and I believe Malone when he says he didn't do it," I said. I needed to calm my father's anxiety or he would drive my mother crazy worrying about me. I knew he was right in that it was risky representing Dax, but I also knew that if we didn't do it, the firm would be sunk. "We need this one, Pop. And, since I believe he's innocent, I think we can do a good job defending him."
"I don't like this," my father said as he lifted the lid on the grill and flipped the burgers. "I don't like it one little bit."
"
Well, you can be my inside informant, how about that?" I said. "You can tell me what you're hearing about Dax, and I'll let you know if you're right."
"Brooke," my father turned and looked at me as he laid his hand on my head. "Please don't do anything foolish. We can help you out if the firm fails, but we can't do anything if you are killed trying to prove you can make this work."
"I'll be careful," I said as I wrapped my arms around him and hugged him tightly. I knew he was going to keep this from my mother, and that the secret would cause him a great deal of anxiety. "I promise. I'll be really careful."
"Teddy's here!" my mother called out the back door. "Are those burgers almost ready?"
"Coming!" my father and I yelled back in unison, grinning.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
Dax
"Where is Beck?" Riza said as she pushed open the door to my office. "What did you do with him?"
"Beck is where he needs to be right now," I said. "What are you so riled up about?"
"You locked him up somewhere?" she asked. I could hear a note of urgency and slight panic in her voice, but I couldn't figure out where it was coming from.
"Beck is in rehab, Ri," I said as I watched her pace the floor in front of my desk. "It's where he needs to be. He's dangerously close to doing something stupid, and I don't want to have to worry about him while we're fighting this murder charge."
"That makes no sense, Dax," she said as she tugged on a strand of hair. She only did this when she was extremely agitated, and I couldn't understand why Beck's entry into rehab would make her so upset. "You can't just lock him away like that!"
"I'm not locking him away," I replied. "I'm doing what's best for him."
"You pulled him out of jail and stuck him right into another one," she said with an accusing look. "You're always doing whatever you want with him."
"Ri, what's going on?" I asked. "Why are you suddenly so worked up over Beck getting clean?"
"I'm not worked up about him getting clean," she grumbled as she slowed her pacing and perched on the edge of my desk. “Do you ever think about how what you do affects other people?"
