Fidelity

  Charli reached for my hand. “Whatever we need to do, we’re ready.”

  NOX SQUEEZED MY hand as we rode toward the airport. The corner of his lips quirked upward and his light blue eyes shone. Beside me was the man I loved more than I ever thought possible. I’d trusted him with my hard limits and last night, in a small diagnostic-imaging room, he’d trusted me with his.

  Maybe it wasn’t that together we hadn’t discovered my hard limits; maybe instead, it was that as long as he was the one with me, they didn’t exist. Or like last night, they faded away. Together we could push the boundaries that when separate were too much for either of us to handle.

  In our possession we each had small black-and-white photos of Nox’s hard limit. Not really more than a peanut within a black womb—exactly where he or she belonged—the little life inside of me was more precious than any diamond or gem. He or she wasn’t an heir to a fortune; the future was yet to be written on what would become of Montague Corporation. There was no doubt that a long legal battle lay ahead for Momma and Alton.

  None of that mattered.

  This little life was the promise of a future free from ghosts and shadows. This child would never be dressed to perform in a dog-and-pony show, never lie in bed and pray that the yelling down the hall wouldn’t come to his or her room, and never have reason to doubt that he or she was conceived in love and loved unconditionally.

  The measurements that Dr. Beck performed confirmed the gestational age. I was six weeks pregnant. Our little daughter or son would join us around the middle of July, a mere thirteen months after the trip Chelsea and I took to Del Mar.

  I understood Nox’s obsession with safety. It was now mine too.

  Yesterday I’d been willing to walk into a coffee shop, to put myself in harm’s way in order to save my friend.

  Smiling at her across the car from me, I would do what I could for her. Putting the little peanut inside of me at risk, though, wasn’t an option.

  Chelsea tilted her head. “Are you sure you’re okay? What did they see in the CT scan?”

  Nox and I had agreed that Oren and Mother should be the first to learn our news.

  “They said I’m fine. I bumped my head.”

  She pursed her lips. “You just seem funny. Not ha-ha funny. Weird.”

  “I’m just happy. We’re finally getting out of here.”

  Chelsea sighed as she looked out the window. “I spoke to my mom last night. I should move back to California. Kelsey and I could get an apartment. I have some work experience on my resume.”

  “Montague?”

  “Yeah. I didn’t do much, but I can say I was employed.”

  “Tell me who your supervisor was. I can try to help.”

  Chelsea shook her head. “No. I was thinking about going back to school to get my master’s degree. Abnormal psychology has suddenly become more fascinating.”

  “Can’t you do that in New York?” I asked.

  “There is an apartment on the Upper West side waiting for an occupant,” Nox said.

  “I thought I might move there,” I said with a sideways glance.

  “Think again, princess.”

  Chelsea shook her head at us. “I appreciate all you have done, but I need to stand on my own.”

  “That’s not a bad idea,” Deloris chimed in. “You can do whatever you want. The payout from Infidelity should be in your account soon. It would be a nice nest egg if you decide to go back to school. You’ll be able to afford that apartment or any other.”

  “Why don’t you check out schools in both New York and California,” I suggested. “Then decide what’s best for you.”

  Chelsea leaned her head back against the seat.

  “We should be back in Rye by early afternoon,” Deloris said. “If it’s all the same to you, I think I’ll separate from this fun group in the city.”

  Nox nodded. “Remember when we had weekly meetings?”

  “Those were the days.”

  Clayton turned the car into the same private airport where we’d been nearly a week before.

  “Sir?” Isaac said, causing us all to look up.

  “No! This isn’t happening again,” I cried, taking in the sight of numerous police cars.

  “Seriously, do Savannah police not have anything better to do?” Clayton said.

  Nox looked to Deloris who shrugged. “No idea,” she said.

  When the limousine came to a stop, Nox didn’t wait for either Clayton or Isaac to open the door.

  “What is happening?” he called as he jumped out of the car. “We’re leaving.”

  I climbed out behind him.

  “Mr. Demetri, Miss Collins,” Officer Emerson said.

  “Please tell me this is a going-away party,” I said.

  “No, ma’am. We’d like to take you back to the city.”

  “No.” My head moved back and forth. “I don’t care what my stepfather has decided to do. Talk to Daryl Owen of Preston, Madden, and Owen. He represents me. He can deal with Alton Fitzgerald’s next power play.”

  “Ma’am, Mr. Owen is aware we’re here.”

  I opened my purse and pulled out my phone. Though I hadn’t heard the notification, I had one text message.

  Daryl Owen: “YOU’RE NOT A SUSPECT. DON’T SAY MORE. I’LL MEET YOU AT THE STATION.”

  I looked up, my brows knit together. “Suspect? What is he talking about?”

  “It doesn’t matter. We’re leaving,” Nox said, placing his hand in the small of my back as the stairs to the private plane moved slowly to the ground.

  “Mr. Demetri, we must insist.”

  “No, you must not.”

  “Stop,” I said. “Tell me what Alton has done. What bogus thing has he concocted?”

  “Ma’am, your stepfather was found dead in his bedroom this morning.”

  I fought to breathe. Had my childhood wish finally come true? “What?” I looked up to Nox in amazement and shock. How could we be happy about life with so much death?

  “We have a few questions for both of you. There are eyewitnesses who say that you, Mr. Demetri, threatened Mr. Fitzgerald.”

  “Who?” Nox asked.

  “Come down to the station. We’ll get your statements and then, hopefully, you can leave.”

  Nox reached for my hand.

  “This can’t be happening,” I said.

  Nox turned to Officer Emerson. “Fine, we’ll follow you.”

  “No, sir. I’m sorry, but we’d like each of you to ride in a separate police car.”

  “Why?”

  Officer Emerson tilted his head. “We need your separate statements.”

  Separate.

  No. We were much stronger together.

  “Charli?”

  “I just want to go home. If this will get us home, fine.”

  Deloris came closer.

  “We’re headed back to Savannah,” Nox explained

  “Did something…?”

  I slowly nodded. “Yes, Alton died last night.”

  Deloris’s hand covered her lips. “How?”

  “We aren’t releasing any details at this time,” Officer Emerson said.

  The room was the same. The same concrete block walls. The same two-way window. It was the same room where Chelsea and I had made our statements about Bryce, when we’d come voluntarily. Technically I was again in the room voluntarily. It was just that this time it felt different.

  The door opened and Daryl Owen entered. His dark brown eyes were filled with concern. “Alex?”

  Leaning against the far wall, I closed my eyes and wrapped my arms around my midsection. “I can’t believe it.”

  “They’re going to ask you about Lennox. Everyone in that room at Hamilton and Porter heard him threaten Mr. Fitzgerald’s life. Can the two of you account for where you were last night?”

  “Yes. We were at the hospital. They didn’t release me until this morning. Nox stayed with me.”

  “There are doctors and nurses who can te
stify to his presence?”

  “And the bodyguards he had posted outside my room. And…” I reached into my purse. After a prolonged look at the small gray peanut, I handed Daryl the grainy picture. “See in the corner. It’s dated today and time-stamped at 12:42. Nox and I were at the hospital all night.”

  Daryl held the small paper. “You’re pregnant?”

  “I am. We weren’t planning on telling anyone, not yet.”

  “Is it…? I don’t have a polite way to ask this…”

  I straightened my neck. “I never slept with Bryce. The baby is Nox’s. I didn’t know, but I’ve been pregnant since before I came back to Savannah.”

  “The implications… the will… the divorce wasn’t filed, but now Mr. Fitzgerald is dead.”

  “My baby is not a chess piece to be strategically placed in a plan to win Montague. Besides, if Alton’s dead, whom would his assets go to but his wife?”

  “His son.”

  “HIS SON IS in jail. His son is going to rot behind bars after what he did yesterday, not to mention the dead woman on his property. And furthermore, never in all of my life had Alton claimed paternity. You’re telling me he’s done it now?”

  “It was a new will, just signed and witnessed two days ago.”

  I couldn’t think straight. I was sure the topic had come up in some class, but my brain was fried. “That’s assuming his will sticks, which you’re going to make sure it doesn’t, since my grandfather’s will already covered what would happen in the case of Alton’s or my mother’s death. Anyway, assuming his will gets heard, how does that even work if Bryce is convicted? Felons can’t run corporations or manage investments.”

  “Not easily but they don’t lose their property or ownership rights. They do lose their civil rights, like voting. But that wouldn’t matter. Mr. Fitzgerald made a provision for that.”

  I sat at the small metal table and exhaled. “Of course he did. What?”

  “Edward Bryce Carmichael Spencer’s inheritance, if he were unable for any reason to claim it, would go into a trust.”

  “The named executer of the said trust?” I asked, full well knowing the answer.

  “Mr. Spencer’s mother.”

  I shook my head. “You’re not talking Montague Corporation or the manor, because those have never been owned by Alton. They’ve remained in my mother’s name.”

  “The manor is safe,” Daryl said.

  That was good, because there was no way I’d let that bitch live in my mother’s home. “The corporation?”

  “It’s complicated. The actual corporation is safe, unless the court mandates the changing of the internal structure from a private to a publicly traded commodity. It’s the profits over the last twenty years that could be ruled as his—at least fifty percent. This is all open to interpretation. My firm hasn’t seen the profit and loss reports for the last twenty years. It will take months, if not years, to get it all ironed out.”

  I lowered my forehead to my folded arms and laid it upon the table. With a deep breath, I closed my eyes and thought of New York. I imagined our apartment and the aroma of Lana’s lasagna. I pictured the view of the city from the balcony, the ribbons of cars and lights twinkling stories below. The door opened with a click and a swish, bringing me back to the stark reality of Savannah.

  “Miss Collins,” Officer Emerson said. “Same Bat time, same Bat station.”

  “We need to stop meeting like this.”

  He sighed, taking the chair across from me as Daryl sat beside me. “Miss Collins, what can you tell me about your stepfather?”

  “That’s a rather vague question,” Daryl replied. “Perhaps you could be more specific in what you’re wanting to know?”

  “All right, Miss Collins, let’s start with your lack of grief upon learning of his death.”

  I shook my head. “Shock. I’m in utter shock.”

  “Does that mean you weren’t expecting it?”

  “How, Officer Emerson, could I possibly have expected Alton’s death? I saw him two days ago. He was the same delusional, bellowing maniac he’s been my entire life.”

  Officer Emerson looked up from his legal pad. “Two days ago, when your boyfriend threatened his life.”

  “Two days ago, before I filed a restraining order against Alton Fitzgerald. It was after that when I took legal recourse against a man who has bullied and manipulated me my entire life. My boyfriend was with me as I filed. Why would he do anything that would jeopardize our going home when we’d put our faith in Savannah’s law enforcement and judicial system?”

  “Do you know of anyone else who would have wanted to harm your stepfather?”

  “There is probably a list a mile long of people who would want to. That said, I can’t think of one person brave enough to confront him.”

  “What about Mrs. Spencer?”

  I sat back and worked to keep the sneer from my expression. “Mrs. Spencer? What about her? She’s going through a lot with her son.”

  Officer Emerson nodded. “It’s a stressful time. Tell me, exactly, if after bullying and manipulation—your words—your entire life, what made you file a restraining order now?” He leaned forward. “What was the straw, Miss Collins, the one that finally broke the camel’s back?”

  The bats were back, flapping their wings and stirring the breakfast I’d eaten. “He scared me. He looked at me.”

  “He looked at you? He’s been your stepfather for over twenty years and he’d never looked at you before?”

  “Not like that.”

  “Like what?” the officer asked.

  I pushed back the chair and paced, hoping to calm the queasiness. “He proposed. It wasn’t even a proposal. It was a mandate. He said that after he divorced my mother I would marry him.” My breathing came faster. “He called me a spitfire and said…” I closed my eyes, willing the bile to stay put. “…he’d always wanted to tame me.” I collapsed into the chair.

  “I was there,” Daryl said, reaching reassuringly for my hand. “So were Ralph Porter and Mrs. Spencer.”

  “And so was your boyfriend, Lennox Demetri?” Emerson asked.

  “Yes.”

  “And Mr. Demetri was upset?”

  “Yes, he was upset. So was I. So was Suzanna. She even cursed… multiple times.”

  “Why do you think she was so upset?”

  “Oh,” I said, “I don’t know. Maybe because the bitch has been his whore for thirty years and she finally thought she’d get the keys to the castle. She was prancing around like queen regent before the engagement party. And when she finally learns that he’s willing to divorce my mom, instead of giving her what she’s wanted for all these years, he shoved her aside and proposed to me.” I let out a long breath.

  Shit!

  Both men stared at me with wide eyes. Slowly my tirade registered. I’d spewed the answer—the disgust at not only Suzanna’s behavior but also the hurt that she’d played my mother. It came out of me. Now I heard my words.

  “Oh my God,” I said. “I saw her yesterday. They weren’t together. She looked at me with daggers in her eyes. She said something about men… Bryce, Lennox, and even Alton.”

  “Miss Collins, where were you yesterday and last night?”

  “Yesterday I was at the hotel and then they took me to the hospital. I wasn’t discharged until this morning.”

  “Before the hotel?”

  “I woke at the hotel.” The day replayed in my head. “Oh, we went to Montague Manor to get my mother’s and my passports.”

  “So you were at the manor yesterday. What about Mr. Demetri?”

  “Yes, he was with me.”

  “Did you have access to any food or drink, specifically your stepfather’s Cognac?”

  My head moved from side to side. “We went in, spoke to Jane, I showed Lennox my old bedroom, and we left.” And then I remembered. “Suzanna arrived as we left.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, Jane told us she’d passed the front gate.
That was why we left.”

  “Do the guards at the front gate keep a log of all cars?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. Probably. Alton’s kind of a control freak like that.”

  “He was,” Officer Emerson corrected.

  “Yes, he was.”

  Once we were done, I waited with Isaac and Deloris in a row of chairs as Daryl Owen and Officer Emerson went into another interrogation room. From along the wall where we sat, we could watch the large room filled with multiple desks. Like worker bees, the people buzzed around, in and out. No doubt the discovery of Melissa Summers, Bryce’s episode at the hotel, and now Alton’s death weren’t their only working cases. Nevertheless, they were big cases.

  “Miss Alex.”

  I stood at the sight of Jane coming into the police station, her eyes filled with tears.

  “Jane?”

  “Miss Alex, he’s gone.”

  I nodded. “Did you… find him?”

  She shook her head. “No, Brantley did. Mr. Fitzgerald wasn’t ready to leave for work. He’s always ready at the same time. Brantley could’ve asked someone to go check, but he went up to their room, the one your momma shared with him. He knocked, but Mr. Fitzgerald didn’t answer. He said he knocked again.”

  She wiped her eyes. “Brantley took care of Mr. Fitzgerald, like I tried to take care of your momma.”

  Tears filled my eyes, not at the loss of Alton, but from the emotion in Jane’s voice.

  “Miss Peterson,” an officer said. “We need you to make your statement now.”

  She shook her head. “Miss Alex, this is what I was saying. I can’t say nothing.”

  “You can, Jane. Be honest.”

  “But Miss Suzy, she—”

  “Miss Peterson, this way,” the officer repeated.

  I reached out to Jane’s arm. “She what?”

  “The other night, the two of them got into a fight something fierce.”

  “Miss—”

  “Officer,” I said. “I’m Alexandria Collins. Miss Peterson works for my family.”

  “Yes, ma’am. We know that.”

  “She won’t be answering any of your questions until Mr. Owen is done with Mr. Demetri. At that time, he’ll need to speak to her and sit in with her during your questions.”