“Mitch’s arraignment is today,” I say. “But first I want to swing by the Commonwealth’s Attorney office to talk about the case and their thoughts on setting bail.”
With her breasts jiggling, she climbs out of bed, walks toward me, and pushes my hands out of the way. “Here, let me. You’re making a mess of it.”
No wonder. I’m too busy ogling her tits to focus on what I’m doing.
She tugs and pulls on my tie until it’s arranged to her satisfaction. “There.” She pats the tie. “It’s perfect.”
“Just like you.” I smack her ass. She’s naked, and I’m fully dressed. Something’s wrong with this picture.
“Is the Commonwealth’s Attorney handling the case himself?” she asks, picking up the clothes I’d tossed on the floor last night.
Her butt wiggles in the air, and my cock gets ideas. As much as I’d like to sink balls deep into her, I won’t abuse the privilege. The rude bastard will have to wait until tonight. “Yes, he is. Your grandfather was a pillar of the community, too important to let someone else prosecute.”
She lays out her clothes on the bed and smooths the wrinkles before turning to me. “Wish I could help.”
“Me too.” As much as I’d love her assistance, it can’t happen. Holden was her grandfather, after all. I can’t discuss the case with her, not only because I must maintain lawyer-client confidentiality but also because she’s bound to be called in as a witness since she was present the night Holden died. The thought that Holden’s murderer is running loose brings me back to the present. “How is the security detail working out?”
She scoots into the bathroom and, standing in front of the mirror, wrangles her hair into her ubiquitous ponytail. “Fine. They seem to have sorted themselves out. Alicia Carson is on duty during daytime hours.”
“She seems competent.”
“She is. Madison went riding with her. She’s very patient, something Madison needs. She was an excellent choice.” Bouncing back to my side, she stands on her tiptoes and kisses me. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me. Thank Hunter Stone. He chose her.”
“Yes, but it was your idea to hire security in the first place. I’m not anxious about Madison going riding anymore. Mind if I shower?”
“Of course not.”
“Got more towels?”
“In the hall closet.”
She dances her way into the hall, grabs a couple of towels, and sashays back.
My cock’s so hard, walking’s going to be a challenge. “How are you going to get home?”
She tosses the towels on the clothes hamper in the bathroom before, all swaying hips, she turns to me. “I’ll call Stone.”
My eyes narrow at the mention of his name.
“I thought we settled the Hunter Stone issue,” she says with a teasing smile.
She thinks this is a fucking game. I pull her to me. “You’re mine. And mine alone.” I plunder her mouth while my hand finds the seam of her ass and kneads her cheeks. Finally, when she’s whimpering with need, I walk away.
I leave her wobbling on the carpet. No doubt her pussy’s dripping as much as my cock’s throbbing. Serves her right for torturing me.
It takes the entire trip to the Commonwealth’s Attorney’s office for me to get my head in the game. I’ve made an appointment, but they keep me and my heels cooling in the reception area for a good half hour before Beauregard Jefferson’s assistant leads me to his office.
In his late forties, Jefferson’s been a fixture in the Loudoun County Commonwealth’s Attorney office since he graduated from law school. Rumor has it he’s got his sights set on a congressional seat and that he’ll announce his candidacy in the next year. A victory in the courtroom would provide him with plenty of publicity, and Holden Gardiner’s murder case will certainly gain him plenty of ink in the papers and notice in social media.
“Trenton! Sorry to keep you waiting.” He extends his hand while showing every one of his pearly, perfectly aligned teeth. They’re nice and shiny, and not one of them is chipped.
“Beau.”
“Take a seat, please.” He waves at the leather chair in front of his desk. Probably an antique passed down from an ancestor. Just like Madrigal’s, his family dates back to colonial times, so Virginia blue blood runs in his veins as well. Makes sense. Who else would saddle a son with a name like Beauregard? He smooths down his tie before dropping into his chair. “So what can I do for you?”
“Mitchell Brooks.”
“Oh, yes. Interesting case. Very interesting. Anything in particular you want to know?”
“What are you looking at for bail?”
“I’m afraid, old boy, we won’t be recommending a bail amount. We’ll need to keep Mitchell Brooks in jail.”
I’d been afraid of that. “May I ask why?”
“Well, the charge will be murder.”
“First or second?”
“Murder in the first degree.”
I stop breathing. “Why? The evidence does not support such a charge.” Special material facts need to exist before a defendant can be found guilty of first degree murder. And the circumstances surrounding Holden’s death don’t even come close.
He sways back in his chair and folds his hands over his stomach. “You don’t know the whole of it, Trenton. We do.”
“You’re required by law to reveal whatever evidence you have.”
“We will during the discovery phase. In the meantime, we’ll ask Judge Sutton to deny bail.”
“Unless I can convince the judge otherwise,” I mutter under my breath on the way out. I’ll have to dig deep to discover what evidence the Commonwealth’s Attorney’s office has that supports the charge of capital murder.
I stop at the Loudoun County Detention Center to give Mitch the news so he won’t be surprised at the arraignment.
Once I tell him, he almost shrinks into himself. “I didn’t do it.”
“I know that, Mitch. But they say they have evidence that would warrant a capital murder charge.” I run through the ten factors that would provide grounds for such an indictment. None of them seem to fit the crime. Except for one. “Did you stand to gain financially from Holden’s death?”
“No. You were there when the will was read. He left all his money to Madison and Madrigal and made small bequests to his staff.”
“Why did you leave the firm, Mitch?”
“I had my reasons.”
“They’ll use that against you.”
“I don’t see how they would know.”
“They’ll bring Joss into it. She’ll testify.”
“It’ll be hearsay. She doesn’t know why I quit. I never shared my reason with her or anyone else. The only one who knew was Holden, and he’s dead.”
“You know damn well there are many exceptions to the hearsay rule. They’ll find a way around it.” I smack my hand on the table. “You have to level with me.”
He doesn’t even blink at my show of emotion. “I can’t.”
“You can’t or you won’t?”
“Isn’t it the same thing?”
Stubborn and closemouthed to the core. As always. He’s not stupid. He has to realize the danger he’s in. There’s a reason why he refuses to talk. I just have to find out what it is. “You’re protecting someone.”
He stares at me stone-faced. Mitch isn’t going to tell me anything he doesn’t want me to know.
“See you in court.” I pound on the door and storm out of the detention center. Only when I’m safely inside my car do I let loose a string of curses. If he doesn’t cooperate, if he doesn’t tell me the truth, he may very well end up with a lethal injection in his veins.
Chapter 12
Madrigal
“Madison Berkeley?” the nurse at Georgetown Physicians Associates calls out. I’d contacted several friends from high school to get a referral to a doctor. One of them recommended a psychiatrist in this practice, saying she was one of the best in the area. Dr. Durham was bo
oked solid, and her next available appointment was in two weeks. Explaining my sister’s condition and my worry over her current drug regimen, I’d pleaded for an emergency appointment. The shameless begging worked, and they’d squeezed Madison in today.
Coming to her feet, Madison heaves out a sigh. “Do I really have to do this, Mad?”
The ungrateful brat. And after all my groveling too. “Yes, you do,” I spit out. Aside from the fact that I’m honestly worried about her mental health, I need to know the effects of the medication she’s taking.
After the nurse leads us to a room and takes Madison’s vitals, she asks, “What medications are you taking?”
I hand her a Ziploc bag filled with Madison’s prescriptions. As she jots them down on the laptop, her left brow rises, but she doesn’t comment on them.
After she leaves, Madrigal fidgets on the examination table while waiting for the doctor. We don’t have to wait long. Five minutes later, Dr. Durham steps into the room and offers a friendly smile to Madison and me. She’s in her midforties, with glasses and copper hair tucked into a bun.
“I’m Dr. Durham. And how are you today?” She directs her question at Madison. Good. She needs to gain Madison’s confidence.
“I’m fine. More than fine.” I don’t miss the aggressive tone. My heart goes out to her. Last night when we talked about the appointment, she’d shared her fear that something is truly wrong with her.
“Good. I’m glad to hear that,” Dr. Durham says. “Now let’s take a listen to your heart and your lungs, shall we?” She conducts the routine examination, including Madison’s eyes, nose, and mouth. After she enters the results in the laptop, she spends some time looking over the list of medications before swiveling her chair back to Madison. “All right, now, how long have you been taking these medications?”
Madison shrugs. “A while.”
“All of them or just some of them?”
“I’ve been taking the blue one for about four years and that little white one for the last two. The rest longer than that. But I don’t take them all the time.” She thrusts up her chin.
“Why aren’t you taking all of them?” Dr. Durham’s tone is gentle but firm.
“Because some of them make me stupid. That little white one? I feel like a zombie after I take it. So I don’t swallow it most of the time.”
“So why are you taking them? Do you know?”
Madison fiddles with her clasped hands. “When I turned twelve, I ran away.”
I’m learning this for the first time. Nobody told me, not Gramps, not Olivia.
“Why did you run away, Maddy?” I ask.
“Gramps wanted me to go to some stupid firm event where they were going to have hayrides and apple bobbing and I’d have to deal with runny-nosed kids. I refused. So he punished me by locking me in my room.”
No wonder she never attended the firm’s picnics.
“So I packed a bag, climbed down the tree outside my window, and took off on Marigold.”
“Who’s Marigold?” Dr. Durham asks.
“My horse. I didn’t get far. Hartley found me and brought me back. Gramps called Dr. Holcomb, and he came by and gave me a shot. He prescribed the blue pill then. And then two years ago, I had a meltdown, so that’s when he prescribed the white one.”
“What kind of a meltdown?” Dr. Durham asks.
“I went shopping with my friends after school. When I got home, Gramps locked me in my room. Again. He wouldn’t even allow Olivia to bring me any food. They’d gotten smart and nailed shut my window so I couldn’t escape. So I screamed the place down until they brought me dinner.”
“I see,” Dr. Durham says, pushing back her glasses. “Well, we’ll need to get your medical records from Dr. Holcomb. Your sister will have to sign some paperwork.”
“Of course,” I say.
“We’ll also need to draw blood to check your liver and kidney function as well as other things. How are you with needles?”
“Fine,” Madison says.
“I want to see you again in about a week. By then we should have the lab results and your medical records from Dr. Holcomb. And then we’ll take it from there.”
Madison pushes out her lip the way she used to when she was little. “I don’t want to take all those pills anymore.”
Dr. Durham rests her hand on Madison’s shoulder. “I understand. I really do. You think the medicine is not doing you any good and hate the way it makes you feel.”
“How do you know?”
“Well, you just told me. Plus, you’re not the first patient to come through that door and tell me the same thing. But for now? Please continue taking the medication. It was prescribed for a reason, and it’s not good to quit taking it cold turkey. It can cause more harm than good if you do.”
“Okay.” I can see Madison doesn’t really mean it. I’ll have to talk some sense into her.
“Now, once I get your records and look over your lab results, I’ll assess your drug regimen. We might be able to adjust your meds at that time. Is that fair?”
Madison shrugs. “I guess.”
“Good.” Dr. Durham pats her shoulder. “I’ll have the nurse come back in and draw your blood. While she’s doing that, I’ll talk to your sister in my office. Once the nurse’s done, she’ll bring you to us. Is that okay with you?”
I love the way she gets Madison’s okay every step of the way. No wonder she’s got such a great reputation.
“Sure. I can listen to my tunes while I wait,” she says, gesturing to her iPhone.
“Good.” She sticks out her hand. “Good to meet you, Madison.”
“Thank you, Dr. Durham.”
Once we arrive at Dr. Durham’s office, her smile vanishes. “She’s taking some very serious drugs, Ms. Berkeley.”
“Do you know what conditions would warrant prescribing those pills for her?”
“She’s taking antipsychotic medication. That regimen is usually prescribed for individuals suffering from delusional disorders.”
“What does that mean?”
“A person with a delusional disorder can’t tell reality from fantasy.”
“So she might be making up all those stories?”
“Maybe. And maybe she’s telling the truth. I understand your grandfather passed away recently.”
Of course she knows he was murdered. It’s been all over the news. “Yes.”
“Is there somebody else who can verify her grandfather locked her up after running away? She mentioned an Olivia and a Hartley.”
“Our housekeeper and horse trainer. I’ll ask them.”
“Good. Find out the truth. I’ll need their take on things to see if they jibe with Madison’s.”
Once we say good-bye to Dr. Durham and make an appointment for the following week, I treat Madison to a round of shopping. And then we get a bite to eat at a restaurant in the mall where we can talk.
“I really hate taking all those pills,” Madison says once we’ve been shown to our table.
“I know, sweetheart, but can you please take them for another week or so? Once Dr. Durham gets your medical records, she might be able to adjust them.”
“I’ll take all of them except the little white one.”
“Okay.” That’s the best I can hope for, I guess. This coming week I’ll watch her carefully to make sure she doesn’t start acting strange. I reach over the table to her. “I’m so sorry I didn’t know about any of this, Maddy.”
She shrugs. “It’s okay. Gramps didn’t want you to know. That’s why I didn’t tell you. But I don’t need those pills, Mad. I don’t.”
“I know you feel that way, sweetheart, but maybe they do some good. Were you taking them the day Gramps died? You blew up at Gramps that afternoon.”
“No. I refused to take them when Olivia brought them to me. But I had a right to be mad. He knew about our father torturing our mother, and he hid it from us.” Her lips tremble as she mentions the last two things.
Of course
she’d been upset that day. So was I after reading our mother’s diary. Anyone would feel that way after learning what their father had done to their mother and the torture she’d suffered. After reading it, I’d run right into Steele’s arms. And he’d helped me deal with my pain and misery. But I hadn’t been there for Madison. After reading the journal, she’d had a screaming match with our grandfather and taken off on Marigold. But I plan to be there for her in the future.
“Well, you won’t have to worry about being alone anymore. I’ll be right here, Maddy. If you need to talk, just let me know, and we’ll talk. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“Now, about Philippe?”
“I know I shouldn’t have lied to him about my age. But have you seen him? He’s gorgeous.” She gets a faraway look in her eyes. “He says the sweetest things. In French.”
My sister’s first crush. I can’t take that from her, but there are some limits to what I can allow. “I need your fake ID, Madison.”
Making a face, she fishes it out of her purse and hands it to me. “It won’t do any good, you know. As soon as school starts back up, I can get a new one.” Yeah, she probably can. But at least until September, she won’t be able to use it.
On the way home, my cell rings. It’s Steele. I press the “Talk” button on my steering wheel. “Hi.”
“Hi, gorgeous. I miss you.” I flush a little at the term of endearment.
“I miss you too.”
“I can’t wait until—”
Before he can say something entirely inappropriate, I cut him off. “I’m in the car with Maddy and Alicia Carson. We’re headed home.”
His tone veers from hot and sultry to a more businesslike approach. “So you’re done with the doctor’s appointment?”
“Yes.”
“When you get a chance, call and tell me about it.”
“Will do. Bye.”
I hate to give our discussion short shrift, but with my sister and the security guard in the car, I can’t very well carry on an intimate conversation with him.
From the corner of my eye I catch Maddy’s expression. Her mouth is scrunched up, and she’s chewing on her bottom lip. I wish she’d get over her dislike of Steele. Somehow I have to find a way to help her make peace with his role in my life, because I’m not kicking him out.
Shattered Trust (Shattered #2) Page 8
