The Proviso (87 page)

He still hadn’t answered her questions nor, given
the way the day started out, would he anytime soon. Didn’t matter.
Justice could barely look at him.

He was irritated that he had no extra toothbrushes
and so had lent her his after nuking it for thirty seconds or
so.

He was irritated that she had nothing new to wear
but what she’d worn the day before, which necessitated a trip to
Wal-Mart for a change of clothes: a simple black skirt, crisp
button-down shirt, and a pair of basic black pumps, her beautiful
gold dress and pretty shoes stuffed in a crappy plastic grocery
bag.

He was irritated by the fact that when they rolled
up into the parking lot—late—there were the usual swarms of people
about and quite a few who took note of the fact that she had come
to work with him. He commenced to railing at her about the
dependability of her piece-of-shit car and her perpetual tardiness,
which put everyone back in the right mindset about why she had
arrived with him. Once he finished thoroughly humiliating her over
a nonexistent situation, he stalked off ahead of her and left her
alone to walk the gauntlet of people who smirked at her for being
the prosecutor’s most long-lasting target to date.

He was irritated all morning and took it out on not
only her, but everybody in the office, too. He snapped at her to
put her shoulder holster on and snarled at her for leaving it at
the courthouse instead of taking it with her when she left—but
there were no semi-amused glances askance at her today because Knox
spread the love equally and generously.

Justice decided to conduct business in an empty jury
room downstairs. Everyone else who didn’t have court scattered as
well. Two residents ended up in the same room with Justice and the
rest found other empty rooms in which to work.

Predictably, Dirk and the rest of the defense
attorneys found this hilarious.

At lunch, she told Richard she had to take care of
some things. She grabbed her laptop, went to hide in a dusty,
nearly forgotten storage office, and began googling.

Ford: A recluse artist whose true identity no one
knew, whose paintings were world famous and worth millions.

Sebastian Taight: Nothing she didn’t already know,
except that he speculated heavily in art. No surprise to her
now.

Fen Hilliard: Nothing she didn’t already know.

Knox Hilliard: She’d googled him a gazillion times
since she’d started working for him, so she didn’t know why she
bothered. She saw nothing new, but she kept going back pages and
pages and pages. There must be something to find since Sebastian
had all but given her a roadmap.

What do you think of OKH Enterprises?

She doesn’t know Ford. Or the proviso.

“Knox Hilliard,” she whispered as she typed into
Google. “OKH Enterprises. Proviso.” Bingo, the first hit on the
first page, a three-year-old article in the
Wall Street
Journal
entitled, “OKHE bride murdered, groom suspected.”

She read. And as she read, her stomach began to roil
as she got deeper and deeper into the long story.

*

To date, Knox Hilliard’s wedding and announcement of
a birth are the most anticipated social events on Wall Street and
financial quarters across the country, especially as the deadline,
Knox Hilliard’s 40th birthday, looms. If he fulfills the terms of
the proviso, his net worth could increase by as much as a half
billion dollars.

*

Justice barely made it to the restroom before she
threw up.

* * * * *

He was still irritated at the end of the day when he
had to go looking for her because she wasn’t at her desk. She
looked up from her stack of files when he appeared in the door and
leaned against the jamb, his arms folded across his chest. He
stared—well, glared—at her and she shrunk into herself.

“Here,” he growled and tossed something at her.
Reflexively, she caught what he’d thrown and was confused to find a
set of car keys, brand new, with all the bells and whistles on the
ring. “It’s in your usual parking spot. Go back to River Glen and
pack for the week. You can take the truck Saturday and finish up
then.”

So many questions, but he was turning away. “What am
I going to say to my dad?”

He stopped, but didn’t look at her. “I took care of
him.”

Her eyes widened and her breath caught in her
throat, wondering how bad it was and what she’d find when she got
to the farm. Dreading the next few hours, she went upstairs to put
away her work. She dragged her feet on the way to the parking lot,
not understanding anything, being thoroughly confused. There, in
her spot, was a dark silver Toyota Corolla, brand new. Not flashy,
it was a nice starter car that a young prosecutor could afford. It
would attract no attention at all.

There was a pain behind her sternum so deep, so
sharp, that she wanted to clutch at it and fold into a little ball,
cry, and then die because this was a nightmare.
Trust me
,
Giselle had told her.

She did
not
trust Giselle and at this point,
she didn’t like her, either. There was just something very
nauseating about knowing one had been watched and speculated upon
for years before being forced to play a game one had not asked for
nor understood when dragged into it.

And all it had taken was one semi-coherent speech
one day in one class three years ago to attract their
attention.

“Hey, Justice, I see you got a new car.”

She turned to see Richard approach her. She looked
for Knox’s SUV, but it was gone. “Knox gave it to me,” she said
low, once he had caught up to her. His mouth tightened. Then she
did something she’d never done before because she’d never had the
opportunity: She confided in someone. She hadn’t even said too
terribly much to Giselle because she wasn’t sure what would get
back to Knox and what wouldn’t.

“I found out about the proviso.”

Richard’s mouth pursed and he looked at her
suspiciously. “How did you not know about that before you came
here?”

“I— Um, I heard things. At school. I didn’t want to
believe— If I had just—” She wanted to cry because of it, but she
swallowed and sucked up a breath. “I’m so stupid.”

Richard’s face softened then. He wrapped his arm
around her shoulder, and hugged her close to his side. “No. You’re
just young and naïve. It’s kind of charming, really, and it’s one
of the reasons people read you.”

“Richard, if I could leave, I would.”

“How did he get you to marry him?”

“He said he’d kill my dad.”

He raised an eyebrow. “And you
believed
him?”

She stared at him.

He threw up a hand in disgust. “Of course you
did.”

“Why
me
?” she whispered.

He studied her for a moment, as if deciding how much
to say. “He’s attracted to you,” he said flatly.

Justice’s breath caught and she tingled. She knew he
wanted to have sex with her, but to hear it stated another way . .
.
attracted
. And by a third party who’d noticed . . .

“None of us realized that until yesterday, but he
couldn’t hide it. Considering you wear your heart on your sleeve, I
don’t know why he didn’t do it the easy way.” She sighed and he
gave her one more squeeze before releasing her. “I wish I knew how
to help you, but I don’t. He can be a crazy sumbitch and I don’t
understand why he does half the things he does. The best I can do
is lend an ear when you need it.”

She sighed. “I’d better get on with things.”

They parted ways and Justice unlocked her new car.
She took the time to inspect it. It had a few features she didn’t
think came standard, like a manual transmission (how did he know
she’d want that?), moonroof (wow), remote keyless entry (admittedly
nifty), and satellite radio (all Rush and Nugent and Steely Dan all
the time), and a GPS system (no more paper maps to re-fold).

She put her forehead down on the steering wheel and
choked. Why had he done this? How and when had he done this? She
couldn’t fathom his motives and she knew he wouldn’t explain
himself anytime soon.

She finally, resignedly, sat up and started the car.
A strange song boomed out from the obviously state-of-the-art sound
system (how did he know she liked good sound?), one she’d never
heard before. She nearly turned it off, but began to listen to the
lyrics.

. . . I’m gonna hunt the hunter . . .

. . . Cook my dinner while I shine my gun . . .

Her eyes closed as she began to go with the rhythm,
the beat, the empowering lyrics, then it was over and she punched
the CD player. Imani Coppola.
Chupacabra
. “Legend of a
Cowgirl.”

Taking a long breath, not daring to think about how
that got in the CD player and, better yet, how the stereo got
programmed to repeat it, she headed north to River Glen and
wondered how Knox “took care of” her father. She needn’t have
worried. Once she’d parked and gone in the house, her father
confronted her directly.

“You need to move out,” he stated baldly.

Justice backed up and blinked. “What?”

“You need to move out,” he said again.

“How are you going to work the farm by
yourself?”

“Hired some help.”

“Hired? We don’t have money for that.”

He smirked, then Justice understood. Knox had
bought
her from her father.

I. Own. You.

She sucked in a sharp breath, then noticed that he
still looked at her the way he had the morning before. Her eyes
widened when she realized what it was and why he looked at her that
way.

Knox had looked at her like that last night.

“Justice,” he said in a tone she’d never heard
before. She swallowed and backed up a bit more when he took a step
toward her, his hand outstretched. “You look just like your mother
when she was your age.”

Whatever had happened, she had to get out of here.
The shoulder holster that she wore, the gun firmly under her left
elbow . . . Suddenly she was very glad she had it.

And that sickened her.

“I’m going to pack a bag. If I can’t get what I want
tonight, I’ll be back Saturday with Knox for the rest of my
things.”

She didn’t dare come back here without him, and she
turned to dash up the stairs.

She closed and locked her door when she heard him
start up the stairs after her, though he simply went into the
bathroom. It occurred to her that she was more afraid of her father
now than she was of Knox. Knox had threatened her, had taken
everything she had away from her, had forced a life upon her she
didn’t want—but she liked what Knox did to her, that he wanted her,
that he had begged forgiveness for hurting her. And now she knew
his threats to be sheer bluff.

No man would pay money to get what he wanted if he
could follow through on the kinds of threats Knox had made.

She happened to glance out her window at the car
Knox had given her, then she did a double take. A brand new car.
Money in the bank and credit cards. Her laptop and purse. Gun and
badge. The enormous new wardrobe.

She could leave. She could leave Knox, her father,
this farm, the Chouteau County prosecutor’s office.

Her heart soared as she thought about it and she
changed clothes as quickly as she could. Jeans, tee shirt, boots.
Badge, thigh holster, and gun (she wasn’t going anywhere without
that for a while). When she finally dragged her suitcases stuffed
with nearly every piece of clothing she had, a few cherished
mementos of her mother, birth certificate and other documents she’d
need to start a new life, she opened the trunk.

In it she found a small fireproof safe. She looked
on her key ring and picked out a small key that unlocked it. It was
loaded with documents. Confused, she picked it up and went to sit
in the back seat of her car to sort through it, and her breath
caught in her throat.

*

title to the car: Iustitia Jane McKinley

insurance and registration for the car in her
name

notarized copy of her marriage certificate

letter of reference signed by Knox Hilliard

ten thousand dollars in worn hundred-dollar
bills

annulment documents drawn up by Eric Cipriani and
signed by Knox Hilliard

*

She put a hand to her mouth and laughed in
disbelief.

Knox was letting her go and he’d given her
everything she needed to leave him and go to DC like she should’ve
done in the first place. Only now, if she went, she looked right
and walked right. She’d spent eight weeks in the Chouteau County
prosecutor’s office learning how to talk to people, make deals,
negotiate plea agreements. She had a coveted letter of reference
from Knox Hilliard.

And an annulment. All she had to do was sign it and
drop it in the mail when she got to wherever she was going.

She looked for a note to her, then realized that the
CD was it.

After all that and he was letting her go. Maybe he
did have a shred of honor in his soul after all. Well! She wasn’t
going to look a gift horse in the mouth. She threw her stuff in the
trunk, went back for the rest of her clothes, and tucked a couple
hundred dollars in her pocket, then locked everything down
tight.

She did a little jig and let out a giggle before she
got in the car, and she knew that her father watched her from the
window. That didn’t faze her now and she didn’t bother to say
goodbye. She turned south when she got to the interstate and passed
the exit that would take her to Knox’s house with utter glee. In
Blue Springs, she stopped and got something to eat and to top off
her tank.

Annulment!

After eight weeks of captivity, she was free.

* * * * *