Fidelity (Infidelity #5)(63)

Jane nodded then leaned across the table. “He didn’t do it, Mr. Spencer.” She looked up from the custard. “Did he?”

I lifted one shoulder. “I don’t know. I was with you most of the day.”

“He wasn’t happy when he called you. I heard his voice. Not his words,” she clarified, “but his tone. He was mad.” She took a bite. “I wasn’t trying to listen. That room, it was small.”

“It was, and he was.”

“But not mad enough to do that?”

“Jane, I don’t know. I really don’t. If the police question you, please be honest. It’s all we can do. If he’s not guilty, then honesty is his best defense. If he is guilty, Melissa deserves our honesty.”

“I can’t. I can’t say nothing about what I see. It’s part of my job. It always has been.”

“I think,” I said, keeping my voice low, “they can still call you. I think they can still question you.”

“But I can’t say nothing. If I do, Mr. Fitzgerald will be angry.”

“The law is more powerful than Mr. Fitzgerald.” Even as I said the words, I heard my uncertainty. Legally what I said was true. No private agreement could supersede the law. The law always won. Just like the song said. And then I recalled another old song, one Jane used to listen to. The singer had red hair, Vicky someone. She sang about a ‘backwoods judge in Georgia who had bloodstains on his hands.’ I even believed that Reba McEntire did a cover of the song. Suddenly it had new meaning.

“I think you should talk to my attorney.”

Jane shook her head. “I’ll just keep quiet.” She feigned a smile. “Will you come back to the house, or can I bring your momma some of her things? I know she’ll be missing them.” She clutched her chest. “I miss both of you. I ain’t never had you both gone.”

“No, I’m not going to the manor. I can’t. Especially after Bryce is out on bail.”

Her eyes widened. “They’re going to let him out?”

“Probably. You know Alton. If he wants it.”

“But if Mr. Bryce done that to that girl, he shouldn’t be out.”

My eyes continued to flit around the room. Though the restaurant was busy, no one seemed to be paying any attention to us.

“My attorney? If you get a call from the police or Mr. Porter, will you please call my attorney?”

“Mr. Porter?”

“No. Mr. Porter is Alton’s attorney. He’s Bryce’s attorney. Daryl Owen is my attorney’s name. Please don’t talk to Mr. Porter without him.”





I COULDN’T RECALL the last time I’d been to Hamilton and Porter. It had been years ago, accompanying my mother as she signed something or did whatever it was they asked.

Similar to yesterday, we were all together as Clayton stopped the limousine in front of the beautifully constructed building in the heart of the historic district.

“This time I’m not letting you two go alone,” Nox said.

“I don’t want you to.”

“I don’t trust these people, not one of them.”

“They’re questioning Chelsea, not me.” I looked over at my friend. “Are you sure you’re ready for this?”

“I don’t want them to call me back here tomorrow. I don’t want to risk seeing Bryce without you.” She looked around the interior of the car. “All of you. So yes. Let’s get this over with.”

With my hand in Nox’s, Mr. Owen leading the way, and Chelsea and Isaac behind us, we all entered the front glass doors of Hamilton and Porter. The historic exterior blended nicely with the more eclectic interior. Classic and modern at the same time.

“Miss Collins,” the dark-haired receptionist said, standing, as Isaac opened the front glass door and we entered.

“Yes,” I replied confidently.

“I’m Natalie, Natalie Banks.” She came around the large desk. “We’ve spoken.” Her step stuttered as she looked up at Nox.

“You’re…?”

Did her complexion pale? “He’s my boyfriend, Lennox Demetri. He’s here to support me. I remember. You helped me with my trust fund.” She was also the one who’d mentioned Del Mar to me.

Pulling her eyes away from Nox, she asked, “How is your mother? We’re all very concerned.”

“Thank you for your concern. Natalie, this is Chelsea Moore.”

Natalie took a step back as Chelsea removed her large sunglasses.

“Hello,” Chelsea said.

“H-hello. Um…” Natalie looked to Isaac and Mr. Owen.

“And this is Daryl Owen of Preston, Madden, and Owen. He’s here today to represent Chelsea and me.”

“Represent you? Miss Collins, you’ve always been our client.”

“I’ve already been through this with Mr. Porter. He said he needed information from Miss Moore? That’s why we’re…”

Before I finished speaking, Ralph Porter entered the reception area.

“Natalie…” He stopped in his tracks. “Miss Collins, look at you.”

I’m the same as I was yesterday. I didn’t say that. I only thought it. Instead, I offered my hand. “Ralph…” I took continued pleasure in the way the use of his given name caused his lips to thin.