Fidelity (Infidelity #5)(8)
The house—fucking mansion—was huge. For a brief moment I recalled my earlier assumptions about Charli. How could I have been so wrong? Looking up at this place, my dad’s assessment had been right. It was a palace and Charli was American royalty. In this world of old money, her blood was blue.
I pushed those thoughts away, not giving a damn about her heritage. All that mattered, more than the air needed to fill my lungs, was that she was safe and in my arms. We’d work out the rest as long as we were together.
The guests were gathered in clusters on the upper patio and the lawn below. Their sheer numbers created a rumble while the blue flashes I’d noticed earlier illuminated the thick air. Barely audible above the din of collective murmurs was the whirl of propellers. It wasn’t loud enough to be helicopters. No, weaving in and out of the fog were drones, filming, recording whatever was happening.
Some of the guests pointed to the sky while others seemed unaware. Mindful to stay out of not only the people’s sight but also the drones’ cameras, I moved quietly, making my way away from the crowd and around the far end of the mansion. With each step toward the front, the flashing lights grew brighter, saturating the fog with an omnipresent blue. Peering around the final corner toward the front driveway, I saw them: one, two… I continued to count. There were seven police cars with their lights flashing in front of the mansion.
My heart raced as I contemplated various reasons for their presence.
Was Charli all right? Did this have to do with Adelaide? Had Magnolia Woods tipped off Mr. Fitzgerald?
Taking a step back into the shadows, I removed my phone from my pants pocket. I’d had it on silent.
I swiped the screen.
The red number alerted me of my numerous text messages.
First message from Oren: “WE’RE TAKING OFF NOW. SHE’S STILL UNCONSCIOUS. LET ME KNOW ABOUT ALEX.”
Text message from Isaac: “CHELSEA SAID IF ALEX HASN’T LEFT, SHE IS STILL ON THE MAIN LEVEL. CHELSEA IS SCARED BUT SAFE.”
Text message from Patrick: “FUCK. SOMETHING HAPPENED. ARE YOU SURE YOU GOT AUNT ADELAIDE? ALTON JUST TOOK ALEX AND SPENCE TO HIS OFFICE. FIRST FLOOR, EAST WING. SHE’D BEEN JUST ABOUT TO LEAVE.”
I held my breath as I scrolled.
Text message from Patrick: “POLICE ARE HERE. THEY’RE ASKING FOR SPENCE AND UNCLE ALTON. THE STAFF IS TRYING TO KEEP THEM AWAY. GUESTS ARE GOING CRAZY. THIS IS FUCKED UP.”
Text message from Patrick: “I SAW HER. SHE’S OK. SHE’S STILL IN HIS OFFICE. POLICE ARE THERE.”
Text message from Deloris: “DON’T GET ARRESTED. USE YOUR HEAD.”
Fuck her. Fuck them all.
At least I knew Charli was still there, seemingly safe in her stepfather’s office.
I sent a text to Patrick: “I’M HERE. WHERE ARE YOU?”
Patrick: “THANK GOD. THEY CORRALLED US TO THE BACK. SOMETHING IS HAPPENING UPFRONT.”
Me: “THERE ARE SEVEN POLICE CARS.”
Patrick: “WHERE ARE YOU?”
Me: “NEAR THE FRONT OF THE MANSION.”
Patrick: “OUTSIDE? I’M COMING AROUND.”
Me: “LEFT SIDE IF FACING FRONT.”
With my back against the side of the house, I gripped my phone tighter. I was prepared to walk into a party, but not past a shitload of policemen. And then it hit me.
I sent another text. To Deloris: “HOW DID YOU KNOW THERE WOULD BE POLICE?”
Deloris: “IT’S ON THE NEWS.”
“Shit, I almost walked right past you.” Patrick’s voice stopped me from replying to Deloris.
I stood taller as Patrick slipped into the shadows.
“What the fuck is happening?”
“I don’t know. Are you sure Aunt Adelaide and Chelsea are safe.”
I nodded. “Yes, I just read the texts. Now I need Charli.”
We both stepped quietly from around the corner of the house at the sound of voices. Still within the shadows, the scene played out in our full view. Edward Spencer was being led toward a waiting police car with his hands secured behind his back.
“Fuck!” Patrick whispered.
“Take me back around,” I whispered. “With all the chaos back there, I can slip inside the manor with you.”
Patrick nodded. “Take off that security coat. I’m not going to ask how you got it.”
“Good,” I said as I shrugged it from my shoulders.
He eyed me up and down. “I think this is the first time I feel better dressed.”
Only Patrick would think about our attire during a time like this.
“Follow me…” he began.
Suddenly we both stopped as the police cars began to move. One by one, like a parade, they drove away from the manor and toward the front gate.
“I wonder what in the hell happened,” Patrick said. “This place is a madhouse.”
“Just get me inside…”
Before we took off toward the back, the LED-blue cast of headlights skirted the front of the mansion. With our backs against the limestone we stood and waited as a long black limousine came up the driveway.