I almost smiled.
Thomas Pierce had been Charles Whitmore’s attorney ten years ago. Polished, expensive, and permanently convinced that rules were for lesser men. I had shredded him on cross-examination so thoroughly during the old case that he avoided looking directly at me in the courthouse elevator afterward.
He had not learned enough from the experience.
“That helps,” I said.
“How?”
“Because men like Pierce never retire from arrogance.”
Daniel folded his arms. “There’s more. We have reason to believe Sebastian plans a transfer Easter night. Large enough to trigger federal interest even without the assault. But if we move too early, they’ll claim the paperwork was innocent and the injuries were a marital misunderstanding.”
“That is what Margaret will say,” I replied. “While wearing pearls and asking if anyone wants more gravy.”
His mouth twitched.
“You want them comfortable,” he said.
“I want them certain they are untouchable.”
“And then?”
I closed the folder.
“Then I want the lights to go out.”
Emma woke late the next morning.
She looked fragile against the hospital pillows, one wrist in a brace, bruises blooming along her temple and throat in ugly dark colors. But her eyes were clear, and when she saw me, something in her face softened—not into weakness, but relief.
I moved to her bedside and kissed her forehead.
“You scared me,” I said.
She tried to smile. “I know.”
“How is the baby?”
Her hand drifted instinctively to her stomach. “Still fighting.”
“That sounds like family.”
A faint laugh escaped her, then faded as memory returned. I saw the moment it did. Her fingers tightened around the blanket.
“Mom,” she whispered, “I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For not listening sooner. You tried to tell me about them.”
I pulled the chair closer and sat. “You loved your husband. That is not stupidity. It is only dangerous when love is offered to the wrong man.”
Tears filled her eyes. “He wasn’t always like this.”
“Yes, he was.” I kept my voice gentle. “You only weren’t meant to see it yet.”
She turned her head away, ashamed. I let the silence sit until she was ready.
After a moment, she said, “There’s more than the page you found.”
I had expected that. Still, hearing it sharpened my focus instantly.
“Where?”
“In the blue conservatory at Margaret’s house. There’s a desk with a false bottom. Sebastian thinks no one knows because Margaret keeps the room locked and pretends it’s only for special guests. But I saw him take papers from there after one of their ‘foundation meetings.’ I checked later when they sent me to get flowers for a luncheon.”
“How much is there?”
“A full ledger. Transfer lists. donor names. passwords, I think. Maybe even signatures. I copied one page and hid it because I didn’t know who to trust yet.”
I reached for her hand. “You trusted the right person.”
Her chin shook. “He found out. I think Margaret told him. She kept asking strange questions at dinner about whether I’d been wandering around the house. Then last night Sebastian came into our room with this smile…” She stopped, swallowing hard. “He said his mother was tired of cleaning up after charity cases.”
Rage moved through me so cleanly it was almost cold.
