Never Tell a Lie

by Lexy Timms

  She returned her friend’s smile and said, “Thank you. I’ve been looking for an excuse to wear it.”

  “Well, it suits you,” Martha said. “You look lovely tonight.”

  “So do you,” Allyson said, motioning to her friend’s beautiful burgundy evening gown. “That’s a gorgeous color on you.”

  Martha’s smile widened. “You’ve got the best taste out of any woman I know, Allyson, so I can rest easy now.”

  Martha was a makeup heiress named after her famous grandmother, who had started a makeup empire during Hollywood’s golden age. As a New York socialite, Martha had been a staple of the gossip rags since she was a teenager. Now in her late thirties, the auburn-haired beauty was glamorous and sophisticated, but also unpretentious and very bubbly. Allyson had taken a liking to her because of her fun-loving nature. That nature had seemed to be thing that Dane most distrusted, but Allyson appreciated having a friend in high society who wasn’t such a stickler for outdated rules.

  Finally, they were served dinner. Once they ate and the tables were cleared, the speeches started. Allyson inhaled deeply, trying to calm herself for when it was her turn. Her speech was going to be the one that introduced Dane, so she knew she had to nail it. After all he had done to save Prescott Global from ruin, he deserved to have a memorable speech. Especially considering that he was probably going to be staying on at the company for several more months, even though his heart wasn’t in it. The sacrifices he was willing to make for the company were proof that he deserved this award. Deserved to be recognized by his peers.

  When the emcee called her to the stage, her heart started to race. Dane gave her an encouraging smile, and that gave her a boost of confidence.

  As the crowd applauded, she slowly rose to her feet and walked across the auditorium to the stage. The emcee gave her his arm to help her up the stage until, finally, she stood at the podium.

  Fighting the trepidation, she gazed out at the crowd. She hadn’t known these people for very long, but they had gathered to honor her husband. That knowledge gave her strength and, taking a deep breath, she began her speech.

  The audience laughed at the right moments. Clapped at the tender moments. And through it all Dane focused his attention on her, his encouraging smile making her feel stronger and stronger.

  When she wound down the speech to begin her husband’s introduction, an audible gasp from the crowd broke her concentration. Several men in police uniforms had forced their way into the auditorium.

  Her mouth went dry. What on earth was going on?

  Before she could speak, the police officers marched across the room and muscled their way onto the stage. Her chest tightened.

  “What’s happening?” she cried at one of the officers. “Why are you here?”

  “Allyson Prescott?” one of the officers asked gruffly.

  She nodded. “Yes.”

  The officer grabbed her arms, and pain shot up her shoulders. “You’re under arrest,” he began.

  “What?” Her eyes widened in horror. She struggled to break free of the officer’s grasp, but he was already slapping handcuffs on her.

  The officer started to pull her off the stage while the crowd in the auditorium looked on, outraged expressions on their faces.

  “Dane!” she shouted.

  Already, her husband was marching towards her. But it was no use. As the police surrounded her and dragged her off the stage, she knew there was nothing anyone could do to save her.

  Chapter 7

  For the first time in her life, Allyson knew what it was like to be a bird in a cage. Her back ached, her neck was stiff, and she felt like the bars of the holding cell were closing in on her. She’d been quietly crying all night, unable to sleep in the crowded jail cell.

  Most of the other women in the cell around her kept to themselves. Some of them had a haunted, glassy look in their eyes. Others were stumbling around drunk. One of them puked on the floor. None of them were dressed in designer couture like she was. She felt like she stood out like a sore thumb.

  She shifted on the cold bench, trying to sit in a comfortable position despite her aching muscles.

  An officer approached the cell door and peered inside. Her heart leapt, hope consuming her.

  “Allyson Prescott?” he called out.

  She hurried over to him, avoiding eye contact with the other inmates. The last thing she wanted now was to get on someone’s bad side. “Yes,” she said breathlessly as she gripped the bars.

  “You can get your phone call now.” The officer unlocked the door and she slipped out.

  All her life, she had taken her freedom for granted. She would never make that mistake again. One night in a holding cell had taught her the ultimate lesson. Freedom was the most precious thing she had. And she wasn’t sure if freedom would be guaranteed to her ever again.

  The officer led her away from the cell to a wall lined with phones. He motioned for her to sit in front of a phone.

  Swallowing hard, she asked, “Who should I call? Do I call my lawyer or—”

  “Whoever you want,” the officer replied with a shrug.

  Dane. There was nobody else in the world she wanted to speak to more than she wanted to speak to her husband. Hands trembling, she sat down and started to dial his number. Each ring made her heart plummet at the thought of him not answering. Never answering.

  “Hello.” The sound of his deep voice nearly made her collapse in a weeping fit, but she forced herself to stay strong.

  “Dane,” she breathed. “It’s me.”

  “Thank goodness you’re okay,” he said. “I showed up to the police station, but they wouldn’t let me see you. I’ve been driving around, circling the block for most of the night.”

  She gripped the handset tightly. “You’re…you’re outside?”

  “Yes.”

  All night she had cried, terror making her sob like she never had in her life. She had horrible thoughts of never seeing Dane ever again, and the entire time he’d been outside waiting for her. Biting back a sob she said, “Oh Dane, it’s awful. I don’t know what to do. I don’t even know why I’m in here.”

  “They’re charging you with embezzlement. Against the company. We’re going to fight this,” he said firmly. “I’m going to be sending the lawyer to you and I’m not leaving. I don’t care if they won’t let me see you, I’m staying put.”

  “What about work?” she asked.

  “What about it?” He sighed. “Allyson, you have to stop worrying about everyone else and focus on you. Forget work. Forget Prescott. All that matters is getting you out of there.”

  “Okay.” She took a deep breath, bracing herself. “So, you’re sending a lawyer?”

  “Yes,” he replied. “This lawyer is different from the family lawyer. It makes sense, so everything doesn’t get tangled up.”

  She knew what he meant. Better for her to have her own lawyer separate from the Prescott family lawyer, so she didn’t drag them all down with her. “How am I going to get out of here?”

  “The lawyer will deal with the bail,” he said. “But there’s more.”

  Cold sweat broke out along her skin. It was like this nightmare was never-ending. Just when things got really bad, it seemed as if there was something worse right around the corner. She looked over her shoulder, and spied the police officer still hovering behind her. He could probably hear everything she was saying, which meant she had to be careful. “What is it?”

  “My father did some digging and found something. He thinks the money that’s being embezzled is going out of the country.”

  “What?” she gasped. That was bad. Very bad. “How am I going to clear my name if the problem is out of the country? If I have embezzlement charges hanging over my head, how on earth can I leave the country to get to the bottom of this?”

  “You can ask your lawyer to see if the judge will grant you permission to leave the country,” Dane said. “The judge might decline, but it’s the best plan we have
right now.”

  Her lower lip trembled. Panic gripped her heart. This was insane. Hours ago, she was at a high-society event, about to hand her husband an award, and now they were talking about begging a judge to let her leave the country to save her from prison. “What do I do now?” she asked softly.

  She hated being so vulnerable and dependent, but she could feel her strength slipping away. Leaning on Dane right now sounded so wonderful. Without her husband, there was no way she was going to be able to make it through this.

  “Sit tight,” he murmured. “The lawyer’s name is Lester Crane, and he should be down there soon.”

  “Okay.”

  “Oh, and Allyson?”

  She bit her lip. “Yes?”

  “Whatever you do, don’t tell the cops anything. Not a word,” he said.

  “But I’m innocent,” she said, unable to hide the desperation in her voice. “I have nothing to hide. I haven’t done anything wrong.”

  “The police don’t care,” he bit out. “They don’t care about the truth. They don’t care about you. Not a word, do you understand?”

  “Yes,” she said with a nod.

  “I know it sounds harsh but I need to give you as much information as I can, so you can protect yourself,” he said.

  “I understand,” she said.

  “I’m going to go. I’ll call the lawyer now,” he said, his tone suddenly sad.

  “Thank you.”

  “Allyson… I love you.”

  Tears pricked the back of her eyes. No matter how hard she tried to keep herself from crying, tears started to roll down her cheeks. Her heart almost stopped, the fear and sadness were so crushing. “I love you, too,” she choked out.

  Then he hung up. She leaned forward, her forehead pressed against the phone, and she began to sob.

  The officer behind her placed an enormous calloued hand on her bare shoulder. “We need to see you for questioning.”

  She sucked in a breath, hung up the phone, and got to her feet. “I’m not answering any questions without my lawyer present. He should be here shortly.”

  The police officer narrowed his eyes and then nodded. “You’ll have to go back into the holding cell until he shows up.”

  “That’s fine,” she said, suppressing a shudder at the thought of being locked up again. It was obvious that he was trying to scare her into doing an interview without her lawyer, but she wasn’t going to fall for it. No matter how terrified she was of being in the holding cell again, she could wait for her lawyer.

  With a curt nod, the officer led her back to the cell and slammed the door shut again behind her. She resumed her seat on the bench and waited. It was impossible to tell how much time had passed, but it felt like hours before the police officer returned with a tall, stern-looking man behind him.

  The officer let her out of the holding cell and the stern man introduced himself. “Mrs. Prescott? I’m Lester Crane.” He held out his hand, and she shook it gratefully.

  “Thank you for coming,” she said.

  “Not a problem,” he said. “That’s what I’m paid for.”

  Together, they followed the police officer into an empty interview room. Allyson took a seat at the table in the center of the room and Lester settled in beside her.

  She studied him, doing her best to figure out just how competent he was. Lester was bone-thin, had dark, bushy eyebrows, dark eyes, and a face that looked like it was cut from marble. It was hard to tell how old he was, but she guessed that he was in his forties. He had an intimidating presence, and she hoped that would be to her benefit.

  “What’s the strategy?” she asked.

  Lester put a finger to his lips and narrowed his eyes. “The room might be empty, but you never know who might be listening in.”

  A cold, creeping dread slid down her spine. Suddenly, the unshakeable sense of being watched seized her. “Right.”

  “I’ve gone over everything with Mr. Prescott,” Lester said. “Do I have your permission to answer all questions and speak on your behalf?”

  She nodded. “Yes. Of course.”

  Soon, the interview room door swung open and Detective Rossi stepped inside.

  The sight of him made Allyson’s blood run cold. She had been the one to suggest they tell the police about the embezzlement. She had tried to do the right thing. Follow the rules. And that decision had led to such disastrous results. Rossi wasn’t interested in stopping the thief or getting the truth. She couldn’t figure out what his agenda was, but it was now clear that it wasn’t justice. What a fool she had been to trust the system. What a fool she had been to follow the rules.

  Detective Rossi greeted them before he sat down on the other side of the table, but Allyson remained stone-faced. She wasn’t going to be nice to him, but she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of seeing her in distress either.

  “So, we have a few questions for you, Mrs. Prescott,” Rossi said. “First of all, I just want to say I know how hard this must be for you.”

  She narrowed her eyes, remembering her husband’s warning. The police didn’t care about her. They didn’t care about the truth. She pressed her lips tightly together in response.

  “Come on, you can talk to me,” Rossi said. “I’m on your side. I want to help you stay out of prison.”

  “You don’t talk directly to my client,” Lester warned. “You have any questions, you’ll ask through me. Are we clear?”

  Rossi held his hands up. “Crystal clear. My first question is, where are you stashing the money?”

  Lester glanced at her. “My client refutes all charges.”

  Rossi frowned. “I know you think your money and your fancy lawyer will save you, Mrs. Prescott, but it’s clear that you’ve had a hand in this.”

  Anger coursed through her veins, making her blood boil. How dare he insinuate that she was capable of something so horrible. “If I have so much money, what could my motive for embezzling possibly be?” she demanded.

  “That’s enough,” Lester warned her forcefully. “My client has not admitted guilt.”

  Rossi gave her a dark, dangerous smile that set her on edge. “You don’t come from money. Your position in the upper class isn’t assured the way it is for your rich husband. Skimming a little money off the top would give you some wealth of your own, independent of your husband.”

  She wanted to point out that Dane had set aside a trust for her and she had more money than she could spend in a lifetime. The trust meant she had no reason to steal money, since she had plenty of her own. But she suspected giving him information about her finances would just give the detective more ammunition to use against her. Blurting out the question about motive had been a mistake, and she wasn’t about to make another one.

  The truth was, reminding the world that she had originally been middle-class would only make things harder for her. Her new-found wealth had given her a false sense of security, but it was obvious that she would never shake off her humble beginnings. She hadn’t been born rich, and that seemed to be enough to put her under a cloud of suspicion.

  Rossi peppered her with more questions that Lester answered curtly, giving the detective very little information. When the interview was finally over, Lester rose to his feet.

  “We’ll be posting bail now,” Lester said.

  Rossi nodded, and gestured for them to follow him as he got to his feet. As she walked out of the interview room and headed towards the front desk of the jail, hope started to make her heart race. She was getting out. Putting this wretched place behind her. For now, at least.

  Lester started to talk to the officer at the front desk and Rossi stalked off, leaving them.

  “How much is the bail?” Allyson asked softly when Lester turned to her.

  “One hundred thousand dollars,” Lester replied. If the amount stunned him, he didn’t show it. Just rattled off the sum like he was reading off a shopping list.

  His cell phone went off and he quickly reached into his jacket pock
et to retrieve it. He held up his phone to read a message and frowned. “That’s not good.”

  “What is it?”

  “Your husband messaged to inform me that reporters have just gathered outside,” Lester murmured. “There are news vans up and down the block.”

  Bile rose in her throat. She was going to be sick. The thought of facing cameras and reporters unnerved her. “Isn’t there a way to sneak out of here?”

  Lester shook his head. “No. Even if there was, I don’t think sneaking out would be a good idea.”

  “But all the cameras…”

  He placed his hands on her shoulders. “When you go out there, you’re going to hold your head up high. Don’t make any comments. Let me do the talking.”

  “Okay.” She took a deep breath. “Mr. Crane, if I end up in prison, how long will I be in there?”

  “The truth is, I’m going to work on getting you a plea deal,” he replied. “None of this has to go to trial.”

  “A plea deal? You mean, like, say I did it?” She frowned. “But I’m innocent. I didn’t do this.”

  “I know that. But if you don’t take a deal, you risk going to trial. And if you lose, you could end up in prison for thirty years.”

  “What?” The world seemed to tilt. Her lungs constricted, and she could hardly breathe. “What happens if I take the plea deal?”

  “The maximum would probably be three years. Less if you take good behavior into account,” Lester replied. “But we’ll discuss strategy as soon as we’ve posted bail and gotten you out of here.”

  Her body started to go numb. Every sound in the jail was now distorted, like she’d stuck her head in a blender. Thirty years. Three decades. Behind bars. By the time she got out she’d be in her sixties.

  Two hours later, they posted bail and Lester led her outside. A sea of reporters descended on them. Flash bulbs went off, nearly blinding her. The crush of reporters around her nearly sent her into a panic. Avoiding the accusing stares of the crowd, she trained her eyes straight ahead.