Shattered Trust (Shattered #2)

by Magda Alexander

  “My guess is she doesn’t. It’s something Holden favored. And as long as he had his friend prescribing pills and no one objecting to it, everything was fine. The bastard. I’m glad the son of a bitch is dead. If he were still alive, I’d—”

  “Mitch, for God’s sake, keep your voice down.”

  “Why? You’re my attorney,” he tosses out. “Nobody should be listening in.”

  “True. But I’d just as soon not take any chances.”

  His head droops as despair seems to flow over him. “Damn his black soul,” he whispers. “I hope he’s burning in hell. How could he do that to his own daughter and granddaughters?”

  “The man had an ego the size of Texas. He never could stand anyone going against his wishes, and he needed to be in control.”

  “He wasn’t infallible. The decisions he made ultimately cost him his daughter’s life.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Marlena’s marriage to Tom Berkeley. Holden picked him out. Dangled him in front of her every chance he got the summer after her junior year in college. God. She hated those damned company picnics. But found it impossible to say no to her father. She was terrified of him. And then when she went back to college, Tom was always around. It got to the point she couldn’t go anywhere without him following her.”

  “How do you know all this?”

  Lost in his narrative, he continues almost as if I’m not there. “She’d tell me. I wanted to do something, but I was at Harvard and she was at William & Mary. I told her to hang on. That college would be over soon. And then I would take her away from her father, from Tom. But then one day she called to tell me she was pregnant and Tom was the father.” When he looks up, tears shimmer in his eyes.

  “She was pregnant with Madrigal.”

  “Yes. I wanted to propose after graduation. I thought getting my Harvard degree would make me worthy of her, but I waited just a shade too long.”

  “And then you had another opportunity when she came to you.”

  His head jerks up. “What do you mean?” Fear lurks in his gaze.

  And I know why. He’s afraid I know the truth. But I’m not ready to reveal that to him. When the proper opportunity arises, I’ll use it to find out why he left the firm. But for now, I’ll play dumb. “She came to you a couple of months before she died, asking for your help. You said so yourself.”

  His tension eases. “Yes, she did.”

  “If everything had gone according to your plans, she would have run away with you. It would have been you, her, and the girls.”

  “And it would have been perfect. I’d have made sure of that.”

  “I know you would have, my friend.”

  There’s a knock at the door. With a rattle of keys, the guard enters. “Time’s up.”

  I come to my feet. “I’ll see you soon. Anything you need?”

  “No. Just tell the girls I love them.”

  I squeeze his shoulder on the way out. After I retrieve my belongings from the locker, I wander out to my Jag. It’s one of those hellacious summer days. A storm’s brewing on the horizon. Soon it will arrive. And then all hell will break loose.

  Chapter 25

  Madrigal

  “Thanks for seeing me, Uncle Mitch.” He looks the same and yet different. The orange prison uniform suits his blond coloring, but in only a few days, he’s lost some weight. Shadows darken the skin below his eyes, and that special vivacity he always had has gone missing. I sense surrender in him. Like he’s fought the good fight and is resigned to his fate, which doesn’t make any sense. He’s always fought for what he felt was right. Why, look at how he took on Gramps. When it came to championing Madison and me, he’d always been fierce. But now? It’s like he’s given up. I hate to see him like this. “How are you, Uncle Mitch?”

  “As fine as can be expected under the circumstances. How’s Madison?”

  “She’s . . . content. Goes riding every day.”

  “Of course.” He bows his head.

  “She misses her boyfriend.”

  His head jerks up at that. “She has a boyfriend?”

  “Yes.” Of course he doesn’t know. The whole episode with the boyfriend happened after he’d been thrown in jail. “His name’s Philippe. She met him at a steeplechase race.” I tell him as much as I know about the young man, leaving out the details about Philippe sneaking into Madison’s bedroom. Uncle Mitch would just get upset if he knew.

  “She’s growing up.”

  “Yes, she is. She wants to board at school during the fall. I think I’ll allow it.”

  “Holden kept her on a pretty tight rein. At times he took extreme measures to curtail her freedom.”

  “You knew about the drugs?”

  “Yes.”

  “How did you find out?”

  “She had a fall from her horse and ended up in the hospital. She called me on her cell in tears because Holden was threatening to put down her mount. Apparently, she’d been on some heavy-duty meds and had refused to take them. Holden ascribed her wild behavior to not following her regimen.”

  “You didn’t know before that?”

  “No. I didn’t know he’d gone that far. She slept in the stable for an entire week, petrified that he’d follow through on his threat. I interceded as best I could, but Holden flat out told me it was none of my business. That Madison was his granddaughter and he’d do what he thought was best for her.”

  “Yes, I can see Gramps saying that. He could be pretty stubborn.”

  Something about my words causes him to frown. “He didn’t force you to take meds as well, did he?”

  “No. But he did lock me in my room on a couple of occasions when I sneaked out of the house.”

  “I didn’t know. I’m sorry you went through all that. I asked Olivia to keep tabs on the situation and let me know if Holden became too dictatorial, but she never did.”

  “She was afraid of him, I think. Or afraid he’d fire her and she’d never see us again. She’d grown attached to us.”

  “Thank God she was there. She acted as the buffer between Holden and you. Otherwise, God knows what he would have done.”

  “Was he that way with my mother?”

  He nods. “Growing up, Marlena was terrified of him. He imposed strict curfews on her time away from home and didn’t approve of most of her friendships.”

  “But he approved of you.”

  “Not really. I don’t think he realized the extent of my friendship with your mother. I didn’t count. I was a charity case at her high school, there on a scholarship. So he couldn’t envision her choosing me as a confidant. And then there was the fact I was a boy. Unlike most teenagers, Marlena was singularly uninterested in boys.”

  “But you did become friends.”

  “Yes, close friends. Very close friends.”

  I reach out and cover his handcuffed hands with my own. “You loved her.”

  He heaves out a sigh. “Yes, I did. But I was foolish and proud. My vanity got in the way. I wanted to offer her something more than a poor man with no prospects. I waited until after graduation from Harvard to propose to her. But by then it was too late. She’d fallen in love with your father. Right after she graduated from college, they married.”

  My lips bow into a smile of sorts. “She was pregnant with me.”

  “You know?”

  “Of course. I can do basic math, Uncle Mitch. I was born in September, and they got married in June. It stands to reason she was carrying me.”

  “Yes. Nothing I could do at that point.”

  The guard who escorted me into the room appears. “Time’s up.”

  My lips twist. “I’ll come back. I promise. Do you need anything?”

  “It’d be nice to have a photo of your mother and the two of you.”

  “I’ll bring it with me next time.”

  “Just the photo. They don’t allow us to have frames.”

  Probably so the prisoners can’t use them to fashion weapon
s.

  “I understand. Until next time.”

  “Say hello to Madison.” His heart is in his eyes. His eyes. They’re Madison’s eyes.

  My breath shorts. Could he be Madison’s father? Is that why he cares so much about her? How did I not see this before? I was too close to him, to Madison. That’s how. But now the murder investigation has opened up my eyes to this new possibility. And it’s something I must seriously consider. Well, there’s one sure way to find out. Compare their DNA. I’ll have to find a way to get something from him. A hairbrush would do. I can get it from his house.

  “I will. Is there something you’d like from home?”

  “There is. A picture of your mother and me when we were teenagers. It’s on my dresser. Trenton has the key to my house. He can let you in.”

  “Sure, I’ll bring it. Take care, Uncle Mitch.” Bending down, I kiss him on the cheek.

  He tugs on my ponytail the way he’s done since I was five. “You too.”

  As I walk out of the jail, I debate the best way to tell Steele about our meeting. I never told him I’d be visiting Mitch. And seeing how Mitch is his client, he’s bound to object.

  Chapter 26

  Trenton

  Tuesday morning I head toward my new offices in Crystal City. After a discussion with the building’s owner, I’d hired the same crew that had done the earlier construction. By the time I arrive, they’re hard at work. After a short conversation with the foreman to make sure everything is proceeding smoothly, I drive to my apartment. Since I’ll be working with Charlie the rest of the day and we’ll need food, I make a pit stop at the grocery store and pick up a couple of things. When I arrive at my building, he’s waiting for me in the lobby, sipping a Starbucks coffee. He’s addicted to that stuff. Good thing there’s one on the ground floor.

  As soon as he sees me, he stands, battered briefcase by his side. “Hey, Chief.”

  I nod at him. “Thanks for coming. Sorry to keep you waiting. Got your favorite bagels plus some ham, cheese, and chips to get us through lunch.” I fish out my elevator key card, insert it into the slot, and press “PH.”

  “How is the office coming along?” he asks.

  “As well as can be expected. They won’t be finished by Friday, that’s for sure. But my private office will be in good shape.”

  “And your staff? When will they arrive?” he asks, taking a sip of coffee.

  “Our target date is August third. According to Marcus, the Gardiner firm is complaining that the mass exodus will leave their criminal law practice group shorthanded. But if their employees want to leave, there’s nothing they can do about it. Others are interested in jumping ship as well, but I can’t take on any more employees until I get some clients.” Right now all I have is Mitch, and I certainly won’t be charging him for my time.

  “Serves the bastards right for letting you go. They didn’t think that move through, if you ask me.”

  “Dick Slayton was never good at people management or making decisions. Holden had Joss to smooth things out, but Slayton won’t, because I wouldn’t be surprised if she left as well. Nothing to keep her there with Holden gone.”

  After I put away the groceries and guzzle down a glass of water, I check the mail. Thankfully I don’t find another nasty letter. I’d debated whether to hand the envelope over to Charlie and have him investigate, but I don’t want him to take on one more thing, not with all the other work he’s doing for Madrigal and me. More importantly, I don’t want him to know I was raped. Irrational as it is, I’ll have to live with that shame for the rest of my life.

  I plop down a plate of fresh-baked bagels and muffins from the corner bakery and a container of cream cheese. After we serve ourselves, we get to work.

  “So what did you find out about Mitch?”

  “Nothing that you don’t already know. He has a pretty good-sized bank account. I suspect you had something to do with that.”

  I shrug. “He taught me the art of trading in the stock market. I invested some of his money. We both came out ahead.”

  He retrieves a notebook from his briefcase and plops it open on the table. “He graduated from Harvard, both undergrad and law school. After graduation, he went to work for Gardiner and stayed there until he jumped ship for the SEC. He owns a home in Loudoun County, a beach house in Bethany Beach, and another place in the Florida Keys.”

  “Really?” I ask, biting down on a bagel. “I didn’t know about the Florida Keys.”

  “Apparently, he likes to go deep-sea fishing. Some primo spots down there.” He guzzles back the last of his Starbucks and tosses the cup in the trash before he opens the refrigerator and grabs a water bottle.

  “Anything else?”

  “He’s never been married, but has had several relationships. None lasted longer than a year.”

  “Come on, Charlie, I know all that stuff. I want to know his sins, his dark underbelly.”

  “Sorry, Chief.” He snaps shut the notebook. “Nothing popped up other than he’s an alcoholic, but you already know that.”

  “Yeah. He hasn’t touched a drop in I don’t know how many years.” Leaning back in the chair, I rest my head against my hands. “Fuck. I was hoping you’d find something shady.”

  “The man’s a damn Boy Scout,” he says, grabbing a muffin.

  I bounce forward, pull my laptop toward me. “Well, it is what it is. Let’s brainstorm, then.” For the next few hours, we work on several theories of the crime as well as list the names of those who were there the night Holden was killed. Charlie will need to investigate them, including Madrigal and Madison. Nobody is exempt.

  “I’ll need to get the names of all the staff.”

  “Hunter has those. I’ll get them from him.”

  He cocks a brow. “Hunter, huh? You guys best buds now?”

  I laugh.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “Those are the exact words Madrigal used.”

  “Well, are you?”

  “Not best buds, no. Let’s just say we understand where we’re both coming from. As long as he doesn’t make a move toward Madrigal, we’ll get along.”

  Charlie chokes out a laugh.

  “What?”

  “He’s got zero interest in your girl. It’s Cristina Sanchez who gets his motor running.”

  “Cristina. Really? She has a boyfriend.”

  “Yeah, like that’s going to stop a man like Hunter Stone. If he wants her bad enough, he’ll go after her.”

  “Huh. Didn’t pick her as his type. Now about the murder . . .”

  The rest of the day we go over likely scenarios. We don’t have anything concrete, but we do have possible avenues of investigation. Finally at three o’clock, I call it. He’s beat, and so am I.

  “I guess I’ll see you Saturday?”

  “Actually, I’ll be at the mansion tomorrow. I have some news for Ms. Berkeley.”

  “What news?”

  He clams up.

  I chuckle. “Oh boy. Okay, fine.” I open my arms wide. “I had to take a shot.”

  “Yeah, Chief,” he chuckles back. “You did.”

  The drive to Madrigal’s house is brutal. An overturned trailer blocks I-66, and it takes me two hours to get there. Not only that, but the AC in the Jag picks today of all days to shut down on me. By the time I arrive at her house, all I want is a shower and a cold drink. I’m tossing my suit into my dry cleaning bag when she walks in, looking fresh as a cucumber.

  “You’re here.”

  “Yeah, I arrived a minute ago,” I say, sealing the bag.

  “I have to tell you something you’re not going to like.”

  I prop my hands on my hips and catch a whiff of me. God, I reek. “What?”

  “I visited Mitch.”

  “You what?”

  She takes a step back. “Don’t yell. I did nothing wrong.”

  “Okay. I’m sorry.” I wave a hand in the air. “Who gave you permission?”

  “He did.”

/>   “You should have asked me.” I tap my chest. “He’s my client.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t think you’d object. Why are you objecting?”

  I peel off my shirt, toss it into the dirty clothes hamper. Those pit stains are not coming out. And that’s a $600 shirt too. “Because I like to know who he’s seeing.”

  Her chin jerks up. “I’m taking Madison with me next time. He wants to see her.”

  “Fine. But please limit yourself to one visit a week.”

  “Why?”

  “Because Charlie and I need to talk to him as well, and he may not be available to us at the same time. You do understand the case takes priority over a social visit.”

  “Stop talking to me as if I’m a child, Steele. Of course I understand.”

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t.” I sit on the lid of the commode and drop my head in my hands. Fuck. This is not how I wanted our meeting to go. I glance up and plead, “Can we start all over again?”

  Her lips quirk up. “Of course.”

  I gaze at the beautiful picture she makes in her sleeveless flowered dress, and the tension flows out of me. “Hi, honey. I’m home.”

  “I’m so happy you are. Would you like a drink, darling?”

  “Not right now, sweetheart. Maybe later.”

  She walks up to me, and even though I’m hot and sweaty and pretty sure I smell like a three-day-dead skunk, she kisses me. “I’ll be sure to make your favorite. What is your favorite, by the way?”

  I shrug. “Anything with alcohol in it.”

  She drops the 1950s saccharine-sweet housewife act, which I have to admit I kinda like. “Come on, Steele. I really want to know.”

  “Do you?” I grab her by the waist, plop her on my lap, and my cock gets its hopes up.

  “We’re not doing it while you’re sitting on the toilet.”

  “In the shower, then?”

  “Can’t. Helga is waiting for me downstairs. She wants to know whether you prefer mashed potatoes or baked potatoes with filet mignon.”

  “Baked and dripping with butter”—I kiss her—“and sour cream”—I kiss her again—“and smothered with bacon.” I devour her mouth, which tastes of peppermint.