The Winters(83)

My awful complicity brought me to my knees. I grabbed the phone.

I had to call the police. And then what? Make a run for it? Call Dani? The police would tell me what to do. That female officer would tell me what to do. What was her name? My hands still shaking, I frantically patted my pockets for her card. It had to be somewhere. I couldn’t have lost it.

I jumped when Max’s phone rang in my hand, as loud and insistent as it had ever sounded. It was Elias. I could tell him. He could call for help.

Wait. He’s Max’s “left-and right-hand man.” He’d be his ally.

I picked up on the third ring. “Elias. Hello.”

“Hello there, Mrs. Winter. Max there?”

Could I trust him?

“He’s out . . . he’s out at the barns. What is it?”

“Well, listen, I have very good news. The police are not going to pursue a warrant. They’re going to treat it as a private family matter this time. But I’m afraid Dani’s on their radar now.”

How happy this news would have made me five minutes ago.

“That’s great, Elias.”

“Any news on the poor kid?”

“Not yet, I’m just about to call Dr. Sherman. We’re very worried about her,” I said, my voice cracking. Oh Dani.

“She’s in good hands. But I would like to talk to Max about the conservatorship when he gets back. I think, after yesterday, it might be a good idea to have a new plan in place.”

“Yes, a plan. I think that’s . . . a very good idea.”

“I’m just being cautious. She fought it last time. But she’s about to receive the first big payout from Rebekah’s estate, and given yesterday, well, I can imagine how worried Max is about her having unfettered access to that fortune.”

“Yes, he’s very worried,” I said. My mind spun at the word “conservatorship.” I knew it. The pieces clicked into place and my purpose here was revealed. I was the catalyst brought in to tip his unstable daughter into madness, the most lucrative kind. I dropped the phone away from my ear, Elias’s voice becoming tinny and small.

“She knew,” I whispered.

“Who are you talking to, sweetheart?”

I whipped around. Max was standing over me in his T-shirt, now dirty, pushing the hair off his sweaty forehead.

“I came to see what was taking you so long.” He looked at the detritus around me, the bag, the belts, the sweater, his phone in my hand. I could hear Elias calling my name, over and over. I opened my mouth to speak but nothing came out. Max snatched his phone back.

“Hi, Eli . . . I don’t know what’s wrong with her. She’s in a bit of a daze. It’s been a crazy twenty-four hours.”

He made a funny face at me, a “what the hell?” face. As he listened to Elias, I nervously began to gather up the things he’d told me to fetch. The seamstress’s card peeked out from under his sweater. I covered it with my hand, clawing up both as I stood. He kept his eyes on me as he spoke with Elias, studying my features, the way my hands shook, and the single hot tear that betrayed me as it snaked down my cheek.

“Well, thank God for that,” he said. “Good, good. Listen, I’ll stop by there next week and chat with the officers myself. Give them an update on Dani . . . Fair enough . . . Yes, yes, agreed, we should talk about that again, but not today. Thanks, buddy. Good work.”

He hung up, then quickly scanned through his phone before putting it in the back pocket of his jeans. Oh God, had I closed the Instagram app? Could he see I had made a call to the seamstress?

His face belied nothing.

“Good news about the warrant,” he said.

“Yes. Thank God.”

“Still, we’re not taking any chances. Right?”

“Right.”

He looked around the room again as if someone might be hiding behind the curtains, under the bed. “Are you okay?” he asked. “You seem a little off.”

“I don’t know, Max. I do feel a little off,” I said, my voice trembling, my eyes resisting contact with his. “Maybe everything’s catching up to me.”

I watched his eyes land on my own phone, charging by the nightstand. He looked back at me.

“Yes. You’ve taken a lot in,” he said. “What did Elias tell you just now? When I walked in your face was white.”

“Just about the warrant.”

“And?”

Tell him what you found: the business card, the fake Rebekah account. Maybe there’s a good explanation.

“He’s just . . . worried about Dani, too.”

He tilted his head, studying me. “You’re lying to me. You’re terrible at it, but you’re doing it.”

I glanced at my phone again. “What are you talking about?”

“My love, I don’t have time to cross-examine you. Shall we head down?” He turned to leave.

My feet were stuck to the carpet.

“Max, you . . . you said you wanted to do this alone. That might be a good idea. I mean—”

“I did, didn’t I? Well, it turns out it’s a bigger job than I thought.”

The woman I was when I’d offered to help him was gone, replaced with someone deeply aware of Max’s ruthlessness.

“Well, then, I—I should grab a sweater,” I said. “I’ll meet you down there.”