Abrianna eyes narrowed, but she swept away the fleeting thought of throwing Marion out of the window.
“In order to survive I have always had to be as small as possible, to never make too much noise and to speak only when spoken to. I’ve seen and experienced too much. I’m so sorry that I’ve been nothing but a disappointment to you. I’m sorry that I’m a coward. I wish I wasn’t. And I know that I said some things that night when . . .”
Abrianna steeled herself, prepared to hear Samuel’s name, but of course Marion dodged it.
“I shouldn’t have said those things. I didn’t mean it. I was so angry and . . . I wasn’t thinking. And in the days and years later, I should have told you that—”
“Stop,” Abrianna said. “None of it matters.”
“Of course it matters.”
“Your being sorry doesn’t change a damn thing! If you were really interested in stopping being a coward, you’d do the right thing now. The waterworks can’t be just for your son. It has to be for all of those children Cargill and his friends have abused and destroyed and then tossed in the trash like they were nothing. Their lives matter, too.”
“I know.”
“Do you? I admit, I was a coward these past six years.”
“No. You tried to do something that night.”
“But I stopped afterwards. I’d toughed it out for a few more years before I got the hell out of that house. But I went from one frying pan to another one. After that, I was a complete coward. When I realized the cops were going to hand me right back to you and Cargill, I ran. And I kept running. I did like you. Stayed small. Didn’t make too much noise. Stayed invisible. But that was wrong. It was a mistake, because Cargill and his Dragons were still trafficking those kids, month after month. Year after year. Now he’s been caught. Whether it was because some sick muthafucka in the White House was trying to get back at me or not, I really don’t give a shit. I want him gone. If I can’t get him six feet under, then I’ll settle for a lifetime behind bars.”
“That’s just it, Bree. He’s not going anywhere,” Marion pushed back. “Surely you know how powerful Cargill is. You think a handful of government employees who if they aren’t already on his payroll soon will be will really take him down? It’s not going to happen. Absolute power corrupts absolutely. There is a reason why the one percent always wins against the government. It’s because they are the government. They bought it lock, stock, and barrel a long time ago. This is a political dance to entertain the powerless. Nothing more. Let it go while you can, because now he has his sight set on you again.”
Abrianna laughed. “I’m not scared of Cargill. Not anymore.” She stepped back, shaking her head. “If you’re not going to help me, then we really have nothing else to say to each other.”
“Bree—”
“And if I have to take you down with him—so be it.”
With that, she turned and left.
55
U.S. Attorney General Jaclyn Randall was livid as she hurled one expletive after another at both Kellerman and Abrianna.
“He’s going to walk,” Randall said. “I hope you know that!”
Abrianna had feared Randall would say this. Lautner’s performance the previous morning tilted everything beneath their feet. “I’m sorry,” was all she could think to say.
“She’s sorry,” Randall huffed, her smile tight.
“Jackie—”
“No. No. I get it. She completely wasted our time, but she’s sorry.”
Abrianna barely held her temper. “You guys came to me for help. Lautner is full of shit. He’s talking out the crack of his ass because my father pays him extremely well to clean up his bullshit. He didn’t say anything that I haven’t already admitted to the public myself.”
“Goddamn it. I have a damn migraine.” Randall slapped a hand over her head, but kept pacing. “I knew that this was a fucking mistake. I knew it!”
Kellerman drew a deep breath. “All is not lost, Jackie.”
Randall lifted her head and speared Kellerman with a sharp look. “For once, Melvin, will you please take off those damn rose-colored glasses. Lautner annihilated our top character witness on a single talk show. I’m already quaking in my pumps on what the hell he could do to us in court. You know why? Because it does smell like a fucking witch hunt. Anonymous phone calls, missing surveillance tapes. We only identified one child. Agents with conflicting information, and now our ace in the hole: an estranged daughter who may have killed her brother and whose memories could be compromised because of another traumatic event. Why don’t you put a ‘kick me’ sign on my back? Two of the biggest cases to roll through Capitol Hill, and she’s tied to both of them.”
Arms crossed, Abrianna spoke up. “I’m getting real tired of you talking about me like my ass ain’t sitting right here.”
Randall’s narrowed gaze shifted to Abrianna. “And you . . . why didn’t you tell us about Samuel?”
“You never asked.”
“Really?” Randall slapped her hands down on the conference table. “That’s the excuse that you’re rolling with? We didn’t ask you if you might have something to do with your brother’s death? Why in the hell would we think to ask you that? You think that’s a standard question we put on a questionnaire?”
“I don’t have to put up with this.”
“Oh. Is this the part where you threaten to leave again? Well, go! Don’t let the door hit you where the good Lord split you!”
“Jackie!”
“No. Don’t ‘Jackie’ me, Melvin. This is not getting through your thick head. We’re fucked!”
“Why, because Lautner said that I have memory issues? How the fuck would he know? He’s never examined me. He doesn’t know anything about me. And he definitely doesn’t know the truth of what happened to Samuel, either. My father put him out there as a threat. He thinks that I’ll shrink and slither back into my closet and hide like I used to. But I want to make it crystal clear that my days of hiding are over. I’m not scared of him or his cronies anymore. He doesn’t want what happened to Samuel played out in any courtroom any more than I do, but if he wants to call my bluff, then I’ll show the world my card and he will not come out clean.”
Randall’s hard features softened. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that he wants you to drop me as a witness.”
Randall held Abrianna’s gaze while she evaluated her, then she addressed Kellerman. “What do you think?”
“I think that we’re still standing on quicksand,” Kellerman answered honestly. “Sorry, Ms. Parker. But we’re going to need to know the full story before we put you on a stand. And even if Cargill Parker is bluffing, we’re going to be reduced to a he-said-she-said situation. Your father had a sterling reputation, until recently, and if he can convince a jury that this is nothing more than a witch hunt by a desperate ex-president, which is very attractive to the growing anti-government crowd, he’s golden. Then there’s you, who has lived the last six years on the streets, hustling for every dollar. And unlike with President Walker’s situation, you don’t have a video and a taped confession.”
Abrianna sat, thinking.
“What? What is it?” Kellerman asked, watching Abrianna’s face.
“There is one other person who knows what happened to Samuel and knows all Cargill’s dirty little secrets.”
“Who?” Randall leaned forward. “Is it Marion? Are you now saying that Marion did know about Cargill’s activities with the Dragons Templar?”
Abrianna drew a deep breath and weighed how badly she wanted Cargill behind bars. “Yes.”
56
Castillo marveled at the work her little agency was getting done. Draya, outside of her occasional makeup artist bookings, acted as the office’s receptionist and bookkeeper. Kadir and Julian had helped clean and organize the place before staking claims on two of the desks and combing through the list of Dragons Templar who were arrested the same night with Cargill Parker. They also wo
rked through back channels with Ghost and his crew to perform some duties about which she preferred to have a little plausible deniability.
But for the many hours that they put in finding Cargill Parker’s trafficker, it felt like they were spinning in place. The men in this secret society were extremely careful. Then she had the thought: “Maybe we should try to interview Lovely Belfleur ourselves?”
Abrianna didn’t look up from the piles of research. “Randall and Kellerman said they couldn’t get her to talk.”
“I know. But I’m pretty good with kids, and I have a relationship with the mother. It couldn’t hurt to try and talk to her ourselves, would it?”
Abrianna looked up. “I guess not.”
* * *
“Are you sure can do this?” Tina had asked as she handed over a vial that contained the deadly toxin Clostridium tetani. “I can do it,” Marion had assured her. But now she wasn’t so sure. She was frightened. What if she got caught? What if something went wrong?
But the memory of an angry Abrianna denying her forgiveness and turning her back on her helped Marion to cement her resolve. It was time to stop being scared and time to do the right thing. When she returned from her late brunch with Tina, she was surprised that Cargill had actually left the house and there was a telephone company van parked out front.
“Where is Cargill?” she asked James.
“He left to go skeet shooting with Mr. Lautner soon after you left this morning,” James said.
“Oh.” She guesstimated that she likely had only a short time to do what must be done. “And why is the phone company here?”
“We’re having some trouble with the phone lines. They arrived rather quickly and should be about done now.”
“I see.” She removed her coat. “Thank you, James.”
Careful not to draw the staff’s attention, she climbed the steep stairway to the second floor in her usual, measured pace and then strolled to Cargill’s upstairs salon with her heart lodged in her throat. She jumped at seeing two phone company men working.
“Oh! Hello.”
The larger of the two men looked up, smiling. “Good afternoon, ma’am. We’re wrapping up.” He picked up a clipboard. “Are you the lady of the house?”
“Yes.”
“If I can get your signature here.” He walked over.
The second man stood and gathered their tools.
Marion signed and handed the grinning man’s pen back. “There you go.”
“Thank you.”
Marion closed the door behind them and rushed over to the bar. She opened her clutch and carefully pulled out the delicate handkerchief that Tina had wrapped around the small vial. Her hands trembled as she opened it and the crystal bourbon decanter.
A noise outside the window caught her attention. Marion’s heart leaped. He’s back. She dumped the poison into the decanter and then quickly returned the vial and the handkerchief to her clutch bag. With her heart still pounding in her throat, she raced back across the salon and flew out of the door.
There was a commotion in the house with Cargill thundering at someone.
“You can’t come in here. I know my rights! Who the hell do you think you are?”
Curious, Marion strolled back to the staircase so she could get a better look at what was going on.
“Marion,” Cargill roared.
Marion automatically picked up the pace. She was unprepared to see the team of FBI agents pouring into the house.
Cargill roared again, “Marion, get Lautner on the phone, right now.” He looked up and spotted her standing and gawking. “Did you fucking hear me? Call Lautner!”
An agent spotted her as well. “Are you Mrs. Marion Parker?”
Fear seized her, but she nodded.
He waved her down. “Mrs. Parker, could you please come down here?”
Her heart stopped. They know! But how could they have known?
“Mrs. Parker,” the agent threatened.
Cargill calmed down. “What in the hell do you need her for?”
Swallowing, Marion descended the stairs on shaky legs. Then she remembered that she was still carrying the vial and handkerchief. At the bottom of the staircase, she casually set her clutch bag on the atrium’s table next to a vase of cream-colored roses.
In the next second, two agents grabbed and spun her around. She shut down at the sudden violence.
“Somebody tell me what the hell is going on,” Cargill demanded.
He was ignored, and Marion was placed under arrest. She said nothing as the cold metal bit into her wrist, nothing when her arm was jerked so hard it felt as if it came out of its socket. The tears didn’t come until she was placed in the backseat of a car and hauled off from one set of bars to another.
* * *
Abrianna and Castillo drove out to the Belfleur residence. She was uncomfortable with this plan the whole way out, but Abrianna figured what in the hell did they have to lose?
Penny Belfleur greeted them at the door with a smile and then offered both something to drink after they were seated in the living room. To avoid being rude, they accepted the offer of water and then waited for her to join them after they were served.
“So how is she doing?” Castillo asked.
Penny’s smile wobbled before she confessed, “We’re taking everything one day at a time. She’s definitely not the same bubbly child she used to be. But I’m hoping that in time, she can heal from all of this.”
Abrianna lowered her head and sipped her water. She knew as well as Penny that it was unlikely that her daughter, Lovely, would ever heal. Cope, yes. Heal, no.
“Is it all right if we talk to her?”
Penny hesitated. “I don’t know if it will do any good. There have been at least a half a dozen child therapists out here, and Lovely hasn’t talked to a single one of them.
“I know you,” a voice said, startling the adults in the room.
Lovely Belfleur had entered the living room without anyone noticing. But it was clear whom she was talking to.
“Lovely, you spoke,” Penny said, shocked.
Abrianna locked gazes with the child.
“You’re Abrianna,” Lovely said.
Stunned, Abrianna smiled back. “Why, yes. I am. And you must be Lovely.”
“He used to make me pretend to be you.”
Abrianna’s heart dropped.
Penny rushed to her daughter’s side. “Who, baby?”
“The monster. He made me call him daddy.”
* * *
Office of the Washington Post
By the time Tomi arrived at the office, the news of Marion Parker’s arrest had gone viral. Bailey was in Tomi’s cubicle before she’d powered up her computer. “In my office,” he said and kept moving.
Jayson popped up. “That doesn’t sound good.”
She frowned, wondering what in the hell she could’ve done now. Quickly, she put her stuff away and raced to catch up with the boss. The whole time, she hoped that she wasn’t about to be canned.
“Yes, sir? You wanted to speak with me?”
“Yeah. Have a seat,” he said.
“Okay.” She drew a deep breath, plastered on a smile, and then took a seat.
“You got a problem,” Bailey said bluntly.
“I do?”
“Yep. I received word that we’ve been bought out. Effective Monday morning, we’re going to be under new management.”
“Uh. I didn’t know the paper was up for sale.”
“It wasn’t,” Bailey said. “But the owners were offered a deal they couldn’t refuse. You want to take a guess on who is the new owner?”
Tomi had no idea, but judging by the way Bailey looked her, she should. She thought about it and then the answer hit her. “Cargill Parker?”
“Bingo.”
“Shit.” This was surreal. “He can do this?”
“No law against buying a paper.”
“All right. So . . . am I fired?”
; “No.”
She sighed, relieved.
“At least not yet,” Bailey modified. “And I’m including myself in this calculation.”
“I see.”
“Don’t sweat it, kid. You can pretty much write your own ticket in this town. Probably even get your own book deal, too.”
That didn’t make her feel any better. “All right. So maybe if I keep my head down, he’ll forget about me.”
“You can try to do that,” Bailey acquiesced. “Or . . .”
“Or?”
“Or you can write something worth getting fired for.” He peered over his glasses. “That’s if you catch my drift.”
* * *
Abrianna and Castillo left the Belfleurs’ driveway and dialed Kellerman’s office from the car.
“Guess who is your new best friend,” Castillo teased.
“Gigi.” Kellerman laughed. “What are you talking about? I thought that we were already best friends?”
“That’s because you live in an alternate universe,” Castillo countered.
“Nope. In my alternate universe, you’re Mrs. Kellerman instead of your ball-breaking sister.”
Abrianna cut Castillo a look.
“He’s joking,” Castillo told her.
Kellerman sobered. “What? Is someone on the call with you?”
“Relax. It’s not Shannon. You’re on speakerphone, and I have Abrianna Parker with me.”
“Gee. Thanks for the heads-up,” he grumbled.
“Sorry. My bad. But hey, I wanted to tell you the good news. We just came from the Belfleurs’ place and believe it or not, we finally got Lovely to talk.”
“No shit? Is she saying anything that can help us nail this asshole?”
“Oh, yeah. Specifically Cargill Parker and the sick role-playing games that he made her participate in.”
“I don’t believe it. This is great fucking news,” he said. “Holy shit. Wait until Randall hears this. How the fuck did you get her to talk? We must’ve had like seven child psychologists go out there.”
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