Madison's Quest
Page 21
“You’ve been in town for how long?” Geneva asked.
“Three days.”
“And how much has Walter given you in total?”
Madison’s right hand balled into a fist. “One hundred and seventy thousand dollars.”
Geneva pulled a checkbook and pen from her purse. She speared Madison with a hard green gaze. “How much will it take to make you go away? I won’t have Walter’s reputation destroyed by the sudden appearance of a bastard child who claims he had a birth certificate forged and paid someone to put her up for adoption.”
“Geneva,” her grandmother said. “Madison—”
“I’ve seen her type before, so have you.” Her expression softened. “The likeness to Kathleen is shocking. If you hadn’t prepared me for it, it might have impacted my behavior.”
“Regardless, I’m sure—”
“I found the names Lara and Pete York among Walter’s papers. Did she mention the fact that her adoptive parents are heavily in debt, so much so that their credit cards all carry maximum balances, their credit scores have plummeted and they’re about to lose their home?”
“No, but—”
“Let me handle this Eloise, please. I didn’t have time to investigate Madison and her parents further before I left the office, though you can be sure I will. Ultimately this will be less painful for all of us, and less messy legally, if we deal with it now.”
Madison was once again speared by hard green eyes.
“How much to go away?”
“Enough,” Tyler growled, standing and practically jerking Madison to her feet.
Shane stood as well. “We’re out of here.”
Madison’s stomach churned. It felt more like raging rapids than pounding drumbeat.
Her grandmother’s expression flickered between suspicion and a longing to believe, leaving Madison torn between the desire to escape and the impulse to stay and defend herself against being thought of as a gold-digger.
“Come on,” Tyler said, the rough edge in his voice deciding her.
Madison was still holding the picture of her great-grandmother. She placed it on the coffee table.
“Goodbye,” she told Eloise.
I won’t come back here without an invite.
Outside the house, Tyler and Shane took her hands.
“You don’t need her in your life,” Tyler said.
She heard, You’ve got us. She also heard pain in his voice, stirred by memories of his own biological family.
He’d never mentioned aunts, uncles, grandparents, but he probably had them—and they were all people who hadn’t stepped forward to protect him, to care for him, to love him.
She squeezed Tyler’s hand. “You’re right. For a minute there— But you’re right. I have…”
All the family I need. Only that no longer felt true.
“You’ve got us,” Shane said.
But what am I going to do about it?
Now that she’d reached the end of Bio-dad’s—Walter’s—quest to get to know him, she needed to go home. She needed to tell her parents what she’d done, what she’d learned.
And the money… She’d thought she’d tell them about that after using it to help them, but now… Now she couldn’t stand any more dishonesty.
She squeezed Shane and Tyler’s hands rather than deflect, rather than say something that would only end up hurting them more.
They got into Tyler’s car.
Shane Googled Geneva and said, “Shit. Take a guess where she works, Tyler.”
“How about a clue?”
“She’s a defense attorney.”
“Morrisey, Mackall & Dekker.”
“Probably was gunning for Madison the minute she heard the name Crime Tells.”
“Why?” Madison asked.
Shane lowered his phone. “Long story, short. Their name came up when Lyric’s sister-in-law, Calista, worked a case for Crime Tells. One of the partners, Morrisey, tried to force Calista into backing off. Didn’t work. Instead, shit blew up in their faces and they ended up doing a lot of damage control.”
They lapsed into silence for the rest of the drive home, and she knew Shane and Tyler were wondering what would come next, now that this was done.
Tyler pulled into the driveway and parked. He took her hand as she opened the door, preventing her from getting out. “Maddie…”
Ache spasmed through her chest with the contraction of her heart.
Shane leaned forward, his expression tense.
“When will you leave?” Tyler asked.
Her throat tightened. “I… Soon. It should be soon.”
“If your Dad is really okay, will you come back?”
“I want to.”
Her voice sounded as raw as she felt.
“That’s not a yes,” Shane said, his voice sounding equally raw.
“How can I give you one when it’ll mean walking away from the dream of being in a band that makes it?” When it’ll mean breaking the promise to Eli?
Tyler’s hand tightened on hers. “We’re not asking you to do that.”
“But it’ll happen. Success means touring. Touring will mean being gone all the time. If I’m with you, I won’t want to do that. I won’t leave. I already don’t want to leave.”
“Then maybe you don’t really want to be in a band that makes it,” Shane growled. “Maybe you’re chasing the wrong dream.”
She jerked her hand from Tyler’s, the accusation too close to the truth. Fleeing the car, she headed to the front door, angry, hurt, hating herself for living a lie when it came to her music.
Behind her she heard Tyler say, “Shane. Stop. Let it go. Okay? Just let it go. Fuck. This is my fault for starting it.”
She knocked away the tears that escaped. Held her breath to prevent more of them from coming.
They caught up to her.
Her heart and soul ached. Her throat burned and tightened on the words I’m sorry. For not being able to shed the past and give herself completely to a future with them.
“We’ll figure it out,” Tyler said, soft-voiced, and that only made her eyes sting more.
He unlocked the door. They entered the house and the hurt, the anguish was instantly buried.
The coffee table was bare. The clues, the Boy Scout badges, the pictures and birth certificate, the drum sticks and bullet were gone.
“Fuck!” Shane said. “Fuck!”
“Guess we know who was behind this,” Tyler said. “When Madison refused to be bought off, Geneva probably sent someone she’d helped escape a breaking and entering charge.”
Madison touched her mouth with fingers that trembled. “But why? Why go to this extreme?”
Tyler took her hand, pulling it away from her lips and carrying it to his as he moved into her, and Shane’s arms went around her from the back.
They held her as they had last night, on the freeway, offering her comfort, offering themselves despite everything.
Tyler touched his forehead to hers. “She probably did it for the same reason she tried to buy you off, because she doesn’t want her husband’s legacy tarnished.”
“But how did she know I was staying here? How does she know I haven’t taken pictures of everything? And even if I haven’t made copies, the important stuff can be duplicated. I can get another copy of the birth certificate. I can get another picture of Suzanne Turner and my birthmother’s picture would be on her driver’s license. Those would prove they’re not one and the same. A DNA sample from Desiree’s mother would prove that Suzanne Turner wasn’t my mother.”
“She has a point,” Tyler said. “Having someone break-in is more likely to make Madison take this public. It’d be smarter to make a different play. Offer money again, or go directly to Maddie’s parents and offer to make all their debt go away. Or, find out more about her and reach out to a music producer to hook her up with a band and a record deal.”
Madison’s stomach hollowed out, not only at the prospect of achieving success
that way, but at the reminder of what that kind of success would cost her.
Shane unlocked his arms from her waist, exacerbating the sense of impending loss, though it lessened when his hands settled on her sides, moving up and down.
“Okay,” he said. “Geneva’s a partner at Morrisey, Mackall & Dekker. It fucking kills me to say it, but we’ve got to assume she’s smart, smart enough to figure out what you’ve just figured out. So why have someone break in here and take the stuff? You have to figure doing that wasn’t cheap or easy because it had to be fast and probably meant hitting my place too and hoping like hell this stuff wasn’t in the Crime Tells office or with us.”
Madison’s heart tripped into a race. “What if I was wrong? What if he meant something entirely different by there is one last destination? What if that was a clue, not just a message?”
Shane’s hands stopped moving. “If it was a clue, there were only three things in that envelope that’d point to the destination. The locket. The badges. The obituary. Everything else was used in the message.”
“The cemetery,” she said at the same time as Tyler.
“Hold on,” Tyler said.
He disappeared into his bedroom.
He returned with a gun. “Better safe than sorry.”
Shane nodded. “Let me drive.”
Tyler handed off the car keys.
Shane removed his weapon from a gun safe installed in the Jeep before getting into Tyler’s car.
Madison’s heart drummed in her ears. “We might already be too late.”
“Not necessarily,” Tyler said. “She probably doesn’t have the stuff yet.”
“As soon as she does she’ll know, unless the badges mean something to her. None of the articles said he was involved with the Boy Scouts, even by just donating money.”
Shane shook his head. “Too obscure a clue. The last couple have been gives.”
“Do you know where the cemetery is?” she asked.
Shane’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. Released. “Colma. Not that far. I went to a funeral awhile back, not the same place, but close. Guy who’s fucking family wouldn’t even show up because he was gay.”
“Is that why you—”
“No.” He huffed out a breath and looked at Tyler. “Mostly my head’s been in a state of fucked because of him. How was I to know he’d mastered a poker face when he can’t play Texas Hold’em worth shit? How was I to know he had a thing for me?”
Shane’s trademark smile made an appearance, though it wasn’t completely matched by the look in his eyes when they met hers in the rearview mirror. “Then again, who doesn’t have a thing for me? I mean, when you’ve got it, you’ve got it.”
A fist squeezed a heart full of longing. The burn returned to her throat and spread into her jaw. At least her falling for both of them had led to Shane and Tyler being together.
She forced herself to repeat what she’d said when they lay naked on the hotel bed. “I worry about your lack of self-confidence.”
But it only deepened the ache, drove the conversation into silence.
Shane braked at the cemetery office. “Fastest way to find out where he’s buried is to ask.”
“I’ll get it,” Tyler said.
He put his gun on the car floor, disappeared into the office.
Minutes later he was back and giving Shane directions to a private mausoleum.
They wound their way through the cemetery. This early in the day, it was deserted. Or maybe like the cemetery where Elijah’s grave was, it rarely had visitors.
Their destination was a circular building that looked old.
Shane parked. “I hope finding the next treasure doesn’t involve liberating his remains.”
“There’s a thought,” Tyler said.
Shane turned toward her. “Stay in the car. Okay? We’ll make sure it’s clear first.”
She went hot and cold. Her stomach cramped. If something happened to them… “We don’t have to do this.”
“It’s just a precaution,” Tyler said. “It’ll be safer for us if we don’t have to worry about you.”
She nodded. But her heart banged more furiously as she watched them approach the mausoleum entrance with guns drawn rather than holstered in the waistband of their jeans.
Minutes later Shane waved for her to join them.
Stepping into the mausoleum, Madison’s gaze was instantly drawn to a huge floral arrangement resting on the ground to her right.
There must have been two dozen roses, all of them white except for two red roses in the center.
She crossed to them, eyes catching on her biological father’s name as she knelt. Walter Douglas Bramel.
“If we’re right,” she said, “this is going to be it.”
Tyler tucked his gun into his waistband and lifted the deep, rectangle-shaped ceramic vase for her to check the bottom.
“Nothing,” she said.
He set it down.
She frowned at the thorns.
Shane tugged off his T-shirt. “Use this.”
She wrapped the shirt around the rose stems, protecting her hands as she pulled them from the vase.
No water dripped from the stems.
Where water should have been there was a metal box like the others.
“And we have a winner,” Shane said, jamming his gun into his waistband and lifting the box from the vase.
She thrust the roses back in. Exchanged Shane’s shirt for the box in his hands, and opened it to see a gun.
“A forty-five,” Shane said, using his shirt to lift it out of the box.
The cramping in her stomach returned, accompanied by chills.
Unlike the other boxes, there was no envelope in this one.
She removed the documents and placed the box on the ground.
They had the look and feel of something official, but when she unfolded them, what she found on top was a handwritten letter.
Dear Madison,
I could cite my rapidly declining health and my need to get my affairs in order as to why I didn’t contact you when there was still time for us to meet. I could spin a tale, painting myself as noble for not wanting to intrude when the family that has been your family for all of these years, needed you the most. I could claim I didn’t want to burden you with a sudden appearance followed immediately by a sudden loss.
The truth is less flattering. The truth is something that even now is a series of jumbled images from a night of mixed alcohol and drug use.
What I can say with certainty… I killed your mother with the gun that’s now in your possession.
You’ll want to know why. I wish I could give you a better reason than the one I have.
I didn’t know you existed until shortly before that fateful night. I met her again at a party. She showed me the locket and I knew I was your father.
We hooked up. I wanted her to hook me up with a friend of hers, so I could move his product in exchange for a steady supply of drugs. She refused and I set out to change her mind by getting her high.
From there the images become mashed and I don’t know what is true memory, and what is simply my mind trying to make sense of what happened.
We were in a car somewhere outside the city. You were in back.
We were fighting, physically. I pulled the gun from beneath the front seat.
I want to believe that I meant to scare her into stopping, into giving me what I was desperate to have, access to drugs, and never meant to pull the trigger, but in the end I did pull that trigger.
Even as incapacitated as I was by drugs and alcohol, I buried her. Behind this letter is a map that will lead to her body.
Arrangements were made for you to be taken out of the area and adopted. I went into rehab, got and stayed clean. I made something of my life, became successful. I put the past completely behind me—until faced with my imminent death.
I wanted to set right what could be set right.
This is my attempt to do so.
She glanced at Shane then Tyler. They looked as blown away as she felt.
“Guess we have the answer to your question as to why he waited until after he was dead to make contact,” Shane said. “He didn’t want to risk being prosecuted. Probably didn’t want to be around when his reputation got shot to hell.”
“We need to call the police and get them heading this way so they can take possession of the letter and the gun,” Tyler said, eyes flicking to the weapon still in Shane’s T-shirt-covered hand.
“On it.”
Shane made a call to one of his contacts.
Madison took a deep breath. “Let’s see where she’s buried.”
She shifted the confession letter to the back, revealing the map.
“Sonoma County,” Tyler said.
Shane nodded. “The badges. Camping and shooting. There’s a Boy Scout camp in that area, or there used to be.”
The map went behind the confession letter.
There was another hand-written letter.
Madison,
What you do with what you’ve learned is your choice.
I hope, in the end, that you will measure my successes and the good I have done with the wealth I accumulated against the wrongs I committed during my teen years, and judge that I have atoned.
Frank Reed, of Reed, Marlowe, Mercer and Levin, has been kind enough to oversee my efforts to make amends and correct the wrong done to you. I’ve set up a trust fund. The principal balance as I leave this last item for you is $10,000,000. It is available for you to use solely at your discretion.
Follow your dreams. Had I followed mine…
This time it was signed, Walter.
Madison blinked. The number of zeroes didn’t diminish.
Her eyes returned to the letter’s beginning. What you do with what you’ve learned is your choice.
He was dead now, but when he’d planned this quest, when he’d written these letters, he’d hoped to gain her forgiveness, her loyalty, perhaps even her love.
Reading between the lines, he’d believed he deserved to have the truth go no further than her, that he’d made up for bad choices and bad deeds by becoming a success.