Cunning (Infidelity #2) (16 page)

I tried to ignore the odd sensation that something wasn’t right. When I first booked the flight, the computer indicated that first class wasn’t available. I pushed those thoughts away as I swiped my phone, took a deep breath, and returned Nox’s multitude of calls.

“NO,” I REPEATED,
as my mother, Olivia, held tightly to my hand.

There had been so many conversation and decrees I’d heard while within the regal walls of my father’s home office. For all of my life it had been his throne room, his center for control. From within this room he’d make decisions and pass judgment, but today was different. Charles Montague II wasn’t telling. Like my mother and me, he was listening. Today’s news affected us all.

“Mrs. Collins, the LAPD has significant evidence to believe the driver of the car was indeed your husband, Russell Collins.”

“It can’t be. He was just here. He’s on a business trip. I spoke to him yesterday.”

“What time did you speak to him?”

My mind was a blur. It had been later, after dinner. Our conversation was short, but words were exchanged. That made it a conversation, right? “I don’t remember. After dinner.”

“Dinner’s always at seven,” my mother interjected, as if our unyielding schedule would somehow help the detective piece together our sordid lives or Russell’s death.

Detective Michelson nodded and wrote in his notepad. “We’ll undoubtedly need to see your phone records.”

“I spoke to him on his cellular telephone. I called from the line in our bedroom.”

Michelson looked around as if taking in the grandeur of our home for the first time. “You have more than one telephone line?”

“Yes,” my father replied. “Is that significant?”

“No, it’s just common procedure in cases like this to clear the family.”

Heaviness filled my chest as I thought about the man I married, the man with golden eyes and copper hair. The man I’d met at Emory with the background and breeding that pleased my father. I remembered who we’d been before we came back to Savannah, before we changed. I recalled his excitement when I told him I was pregnant. We’d never practiced birth control and yet it took us years and two miscarriages before I finally made it through the first trimester. Russell was elated to be a father. Even after the ultrasound that told us we were having a girl, he never wavered. To him, Alexandria wasn’t an heir; she was his child, his little girl. Now I’d need to tell her that he was gone.

“Laide?” My father’s voice pulled me from the past.

“What?” I scanned from my father seated on the other side of his desk, his eyes open wide in expectation, to Detective Michelson, a tall, balding man in a cheap suit who shifted from one foot to the other. “I’m sorry. Did you ask me something?”

“I apologize,” the detective said. “I know this is a difficult time. I don’t want to be the bearer of more bad news…”

Tears escaped my eyes as I stifled my cries. My hands trembled as the news registered. Russell was gone, forever. He’d never return. Each time my head bowed, my mother’s grasp of my hand would squeeze, reminding me to keep my head held high. Improper etiquette was unacceptable for a Montague, even when learning that I was now a widow at the ripe old age of twenty-nine.

“The LAPD,” the detective continued, “wanted you notified in person, before news broke.”

Charles’s head bobbed up and down. “We appreciate that, Detective Michelson.”

“We know, Mr. Montague, how upsetting this is and what a shock it is. We wanted you to know the details before any different stories got out.”

My gaze shot to the detective. “Different stories? What are you talking about? You just said my husband was in an automobile crash. What different stories could there be?” Something he’d said earlier finally registered. “And why would you need to
clear the family
? Of what?”

“Dear,” my mother cooed. “Let the men do their jobs. I’m sure it was purely an accident.”

“Of course it was.” Turning my gaze toward Detective Michelson, I asked, “Are you insinuating that it wasn’t? Do you think someone purposely…” I couldn’t bring myself to say the words as my chin again dropped.

“No, ma’am. I’m only saying that before Mr. Collins’s body can be brought back to Savannah, there needs to be a few tests. In cases like this, an autopsy is mandatory.”

“N-No,” I whispered. Gathering my strength and lifting my eyes, I looked across the large desk to my father, wordlessly pleading for his help. If anyone could stop this, Charles Montague II could.

“Laide,” he said, his tone dripping with fatherly concern, “it’s their job.”

I shook my head. “I don’t want them to cut him open. No. I’m his family, Alexandria and I. We’re all he has… had. I say no. Can’t I say no?”

“I’m sorry,” the detective said again, though I doubted his sincerity. “It’s protocol. As I explained, the car exploded upon impact. His body was burned beyond recognition. Though the car was badly damaged, it was a rental, and LAPD was able to trace it to Mr. Collins. Upon preliminary examination by the medical examiner, the man driving that car met your husband’s description: height, weight, age, but his identity and cause of death can’t be one hundred percent confirmed without the autopsy.”

“Wait. What about dental records?” I asked.

“We’ve already subpoenaed those from his dentist. However, that won’t confirm his cause of death.”

I stood and paced a small track near the front of Charles’s desk. My eyes filled with tears. “You said the car exploded. He couldn’t get out. Wasn’t that the cause of death?”

“On the surface. However, tests need to be done to confirm that there were no foreign substances in his system: drugs, excessive alcohol, anything. This isn’t debatable. The medical examiner has already begun.”

My stomach twisted. “Father? Isn’t there something you can do? I don’t want them to do this. He wouldn’t want that.”

Charles Montague II shook his head. “I think this is something that needs to be done. It will help with closure.”

“Closure? Closure! My husband is gone. I’m a widow and not even thirty years old, and you’re talking about closure. What about Alexandria? No matter what the results are, she’ll never be able to say goodbye to her father. I’ll never…” More tears flowed.

“Mrs. Collins, was it your husband’s practice to drive at excessive speeds?”

I shrugged as I lowered myself back to the chair. “Russell liked fast cars. He never drove too fast with me or Alexandria.” I remembered a gift I gave him when we were first married. “He did one of those race-car fantasy weekends once.”

The detective continued to take notes as I spoke.

“But he wasn’t a drinker. I doubt there’s anything you’ll find. He barely drank wine.”

“I hate to ask, but your marriage? LAPD wants to know if there were problems.”

My teary eyes opened wide. “No. That’s absurd.”

“I didn’t mean anything by that. It’s a standard question when life insurance is involved.”

Charles sat straighter. “Detective, does it look like my daughter is in need of insurance money?”

The tall, balding man shook his head. “Not on the surface, but these are all questions that need to be answered.”

“No,” I said with more conviction than I’d previously mustered. “What
needs
to happen is that Russell is brought home. We
need
to arrange a funeral, and I
need
to explain to our three-year-old daughter that her father is never coming home.”

“As soon as the autopsy—”

“Detective, I want my husband home.”

My blue eyes met my father’s. Slowly his lips formed a straight line and he nodded. I leaned back against the chair.

“Tell me when my daughter’s wishes will be honored.” It wasn’t a question. Charles Montague II didn’t ask. He proclaimed.

“As soon as possible. We’ll contact LAPD and do all we can.”

“Thank you, Detective Michelson. Please contact me with the results of any tests. I don’t believe you’ll find anything, but if you do, Montague Corporation needs to know what it’s up against.”

“Of course, sir.”

As one of the biggest employers for the area and beyond, Montague Corporation’s reputation was something the Savannah police would do all they could to maintain.

“If that is all,” my mother said, “I believe my daughter needs some time. I’ll be happy to show you to the door.”

Detective Michelson nodded. “I’ll be in touch.”

“Olivia, please close the door.”

My eyes looked nervously toward my father’s as the door closed and silence prevailed. Listening to the police detective give gruesome details of my husband’s death should turn my stomach, and it did. But not as much as being left alone with Charles’s judgmental stare.

Willing my neck to straighten, I took a deep breath and tried to ignore that the trembling I’d experienced when I first entered his office had resumed.

Father stood and moved to the chair beside me, the one where my mother had been. “Don’t worry.”

It wasn’t what I expected to hear.

“But if they…”

“They won’t find anything out of the ordinary. Russell went for a joy ride. He lost control. Montague will make a public statement and ask for time—time for grieving.”

For the first time in years, my lungs filled as I inhaled. My chest rose and fell in rhythm as each breath delivered essential oxygen to my deprived bloodstream. Like water to the Georgia clay, it brought a seedling of hope where before hopelessness reigned.

Charles’s words registered. His low monotone tenor infiltrated my new sense of freedom. “…a respectable time before you remarry.”

My face spun toward his. “Why? I don’t want to remarry.”

“That’s nonsense. Of course you’ll remarry. I believe someone older than Russell. He couldn’t control you the way you need.”

I stood, my head shaking from side to side. “I can’t bear children. There is no reason for me to remarry.”

“Adelaide, sit down and lower your voice.”

Slowly, I did as he said.

“I won’t live forever. I need to know that Montague Corporation is in capable hands.”

“What about me? What about Alexandria?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You had a mission—correction, two missions. You failed at both. The husband you chose was incapable. Maybe that was your real failure. Him. Russell Collins couldn’t produce a son, failed as a husband, and was a disappointment as a businessman.

“The position of your husband is too important to allow for you to fail again. I’ll find an acceptable man to oversee my empire.”

“You’re crazy.” It was the first time I’d ever stood up to him.

“Excuse me?”

“
Your empire
? Heavens, who are you, the king of Savannah?”

“Adelaide.” His tone threatened to still my unusual outburst.

Nevertheless, I continued, “You point fingers, yet you seem to forget. You only produced a daughter yourself.”

“No.” The one word came out as a growl. “I haven’t forgotten. I’m reminded of that fact every day. That is why I’ll be the one who oversees this next husband. Your job, your duty is to give me a son-in-law capable of the tasks before me. I won’t risk your poor decision-making ability again.

“You said you married for love. Well, Daughter, how did that work for you? Montague Corporation, my empire, is too important to let emotion be a deciding factor.”

No longer able to breathe, I sat mute as he went on and on about my future and that of Alexandria’s.

“I could leave. I don’t need to do this.”

Father laughed. “Be my
guest.
Oh, that’s right. You have been for twenty-nine years. The door isn’t locked, but you’re not taking Alexandria.”

What the hell?

“You can’t take my daughter away from me.”

“They don’t allow children in prison. That’s what happens to women who kill their husbands.”

I wasn’t the one who commissioned his death. Charles knew that.

“I didn’t! I didn’t have anything to do with it. You just said that they won’t find anything.”

“They won’t, unless I want them to.”

Just like everything else, my opinion didn’t matter. It was my duty. I’d been told that since the day I was born. Arguing would prove futile. After all, this was his empire. King Charles II, supreme ruler of Montague Manor and beyond.

“When do you plan for me to marry? What’s an acceptable amount of time?”

His cold hand patted mine. “Don’t worry about that. Daddy will take care of everything. You mourn. But when you do…” He waved his hand up and down. “…remember to keep yourself… appealing. Russell may have grown tired of you, but you won’t let that happen again. You’re a Montague. Don’t ever forget that.”