Chapter 18
18
Once Ingrid is safely in the air and Fred has been debriefed twice on their trip to the airport, and how she looked before going through security, I tell him, “Let’s get cameras up inside and out here.”
Fred looks reticent.
“What now?” I bark.
“She’s not going to like that. Maybe one at the front door and one at the back. She might buy that but… you aren’t planning on telling her, are you?”
I shake my head no. Fred’s mouth turns down even further at the corners, which didn’t seem possible. “Shooting yourself in the foot there, boss. Again .”
Nonsense. It’s all practical security in this day and age. Just because Ingrid seems to reside in a fantasy land that wasn’t even real two hundred years ago doesn’t mean I shouldn’t take practical precautions on her behalf. It’s my job to keep her safe .
Fred grumbles under his breath but takes the box of camera equipment I had rush delivered.
“Besides,” I point out to him belatedly, “In theory we’re all going home to New York, so it won’t matter.”
Fred only rolls his eyes in response. I turn back to packing my bag. We’re booked on a private flight this evening. By morning, I’ll be sleeping in my own bed. That thought should be filling me with relief, but instead, I’m perusing my phone to see if Ingrid has checked in yet. Nothing.
If I’m smart, I’ll start resigning myself now to the thought that Ingrid is likely to decide to stay in Washington near her friend permanently. Despite her words, I don’t see her making Montana her forever home, not without friends or family nearby, and she’s too shy to gain those quickly on her own. Nothing wrong with that. I like her just fine as she is, but I don’t want her to suffer for it, either.
Fred gets us out of the house and headed to the airport relatively seamlessly. I’m pleased when I check the camera feed on my phone to see the video clip of us pulling out of the long driveway and then nothing after that. Not that I expected anything else, but it’s nice knowing we can now keep an eye on the place without anyone being physically present.
I settle in on the chartered plane for a much needed nap while Fred checks his phone one last time. “Margot’s been positively ID’d in Colombia,” he mutters.
Sitting up abruptly, I growl, “No extradition treaty.” Fred nods and closes his eyes. At least she’s unlikely to sneak back anytime soon…
I dream of Ingrid wandering through the New York apartment looking transparent, like a ghost. She flits from room to room like she’s looking for something, although she never stays long enough to find it. I reach for her, but she dissolves through my fingers. Jerking awake, it takes me a minute to remember I’m on a plane. Fred is snoring robustly from his chair in the corner. I snort in amusement and roll over, trying to get comfortable on what I’m sure is an expensive leather sofa.
Maybe the solution to Ingrid’s objections is to find a new apartment. I have no particular emotional attachment to that one. It was simply a good investment and I know where everything is. But maybe one with vintage character would appeal more to Ingrid?
All such thoughts of finding a path through the forest dissipate into thin air the next day. The forest is about to burst into flames. I know this when Fred shows up at my front door promptly at seven a.m. and simply holds his phone out. I watch first in bemusement and then mounting anger as a prominent newscaster known for her bio pics and exposés teases an upcoming special. One featuring Margot, who has apparently ‘sought refuge’ in South America, to avoid imminent threats at home. To ensure her safety, she’s decided to spill all her secrets.
Margot doesn’t have any secrets, but I can guess she’s got a plethora of fiction ready to hand. “Can you get an advanced copy?” I ask Fred quietly. We both know how bad this is. Thank God Ingrid is on the other side of the country.
“Working on it, but they’re being extremely tightlipped. It airs Thursday, so a couple of days isn’t going to buy us much.”
I shake my head in agreement. “No, but it would be something. Guess I’d better order in some food while the door is still relatively clear.”
Fred’s lips twitch. “Not a bad idea. I’m going to stay out of the area so I can continue to navigate. I’ll text you with the code if anything comes up.”
I nod again absent-mindedly. “Any update from the boys in blue out in Montana? They washing their hands now that she’s on foreign soil?”
Fred growls with frustration. “Not much they can do. Even if she were here, they only have enough to bring her in for questioning, not arrest her. Running like she did doesn’t help her case, but it’s hardly going to convict her. I’m afraid your case has been filed under ‘Only when there’s nothing else to do’. Although I did hear that they tipped off the feds, so at least there’s a flag on her passport if she ever tries to re-enter. But based on her actions so far, if she did, she’d hardly use her real name and documents.”
We both frown in shared commiseration at the futility of bringing her to justice. She’s found a new way to cause damage through the media that’s harder to prosecute, but just as lethal. I’m glad Ingrid is well out of it. Fred and I say goodbye and I set about the business of settling into my old life. It doesn’t seem as effortless and comfortable as it used to…
I’d hoped to get back to my book on the three-hour flight from Denver to Vancouver, but for better or worse I was seated next to an inquisitive toddler desperate to escape her mother’s lap for more interesting people. The good news is she wasn’t crying or screaming. The less good news was that she was also desperately charming. Even the emergency procedures card was an excuse to play peek-a-boo. I gave up on the book and entertained both of us with a nonsense conversation where I asked her questions and she answered in babble.
Collecting my luggage from the carousel, I head to the car rental area. Thankfully, I’d booked ahead, so the car is ready for me in a nearby lot. Now I just have to navigate driving in kilometers instead of miles for half an hour or so until I cross the border. I make sure I have my passport and the car paperwork handy, grab a mocha as a reward for making it this far, and start off .
Other than the wait at the border, it’s quick and painless. In no time, I’m pulling into Rose’s driveway and admiring the scenery. It’s so different from Montana! But just as charming and I can see it suits Rose. I grab my purse and head to the front door, where I knock softly. Rose pulls it open instantly and sweeps me into a fierce hug.
“Good thing I was watching for you. Not even an elephant could have heard that knock,” she remarks cheerfully.
“I didn’t want to wake the baby,” I whisper.
Rose laughs. “Nothing wakes her, I swear. I think she might be one hundred percent Aiden’s baby. I just carried her.”
She sweeps me into the house and up the stairs. I notice she does keep her voice down though as she shows me into the stunning nursery and points into the bassinet where there’s an even more charming bundle wrapped in aqua. “Meet your goddaughter Aurora,” she whispers with a grin.
Aurora makes a squishy face in her sleep, and we both laugh quietly before slipping out again. I can’t wait to hold her, but not so bad I want to wake her up.
Rose drags me down to the kitchen and pulls a pitcher of pink lemonade out of the fridge. “Now tell me everything about Justin,” she commands, leading the way over to a cozy sitting area nestled between bookshelves.
I shrug. “Like what? We’re technically married. He still hasn’t truly fucked me and he doesn’t want to leave New York.”
“Oh.” Rose frowns. “That doesn’t sound like a happy ending I would write.”
I smirk. “No. But then it’s my story and we know my stuff always fizzled in the middle. Maybe you can help me edit.”
Rose looks doubtful, and I suppose I can’t blame her. “I’m worried about you, Ing. You’ve had your heart set on the impossible for as long as I’ve known you. I know you said you were willing to move on, but… well, it wasn’t very convincing. ”
I nod. It’s true, but not for lack of trying. “He has stopped yelling, so there’s that.”
Rose actually perks up. “Really? That’s very positive.”
I’m not so sure.
Even less so when Rose’s husband Aiden gets home. He’s gracious but reserved. Watching him with Rose and baby Rory as she’s already being called, I can see that there aren’t any true barriers between them. And Rose is comfortable being herself. I bite my lip, mulling this over as Rose and I tidy the kitchen. Aiden frowned over that, his protective instincts rising to the surface, but Rose shooed him off to spend time with the baby. I noticed he wasn’t at all reluctant about that.
“I can’t believe I was ever worried that he might be emotionally detached,” Rose whispers with a grin and an eye roll. “At this rate, he’s going to be sobbing on the floor when she starts kindergarten.”
I gape at her. That’s what, five years away? But I can totally see it. Out of the corner of my eye, I watch Aiden making silly faces at the baby. She’s way too young to respond to that, isn’t she? On the other hand, she’s not screaming so…all good, I guess. And I can’t for the life of me picture Justin and me in this scenario. Not just the baby, because I don’t feel any great yearning in that direction, but the general domesticity. The ease with each other. All of that is missing.
Sighing heavily as I slide the last fork into the dishwasher and close the lid, I head to the sink to wash my hands.
Rose interjects quietly, “What’s the matter, Ing?”
I shake my head, not wanting to dump on her happiness.
She pinches my side anyway in a way that always meant she was serious.
“Ow! You’re supposed to be all grown up now.” I grimace at her.
Rose smirks. “Technically, we were both grownups when we met, but we both know better. Now spill. ”
I lean back against the counter. “I’m wondering if Justin and I are meant only to be a distraction for each other.”
My best friend frowns. “What brought that on?”
I gesture widely with my hand. “We don’t have this… Not the house. I mean the ease.”
“We didn’t either at first. And right now we’re both tired, so you might be seeing a false calm. Aiden gets on my nerves when he gets extra bossy and I get on his when I don’t immediately adhere to his recommendations. Could be anything from how long I brush my teeth to whether green is good for the nursery walls. If he’s read it in a reputable journal, he’s usually immediately on board. I’m more skeptical.”
Rose pats me on the shoulder and then pushes me gently into the living room. She steals baby Rory from Aiden, who promptly frowns at losing his daughter before plopping her into my lap. Immediately I’m captivated. Her blue eyes are already starting to lighten closer to the shade of Aiden’s. She stares at me like she knows the meaning of life, and all I have to do is ask the right question.
I spend the next few days resting as much as possible. I’m determined to get my strength back because something tells me I’m going to need it. Fred checks in via text message. I’m already well aware that the media is hyping this exposé and while I’m certain it will land on me, somehow nobody is spilling any of the specifics. So we wait.
Kate swings by to clean the apartment and I tell her to take the month off because I don’t want her being harassed by paparazzi if this thing blows up. She frowns at me. “You think I’m too old to handle a few nosy reporters? ”
I shake my head emphatically. “No. Not at all. I think I’m too old to lose the only housekeeper who keeps turning down better job offers and continues to come back. This could get vicious, Kate. I’m talking end up in the hospital bad. I’m not worth it. Some minor dust in the guestroom definitely isn’t.”
She sniffs, but doesn’t argue. “Where’s your new wife in all this?”
I groan, wondering who told her. Or is that tidbit also making the rounds in the media and somehow I’ve just missed it? Or Fred held it back. “Well out of it. And I want her to stay there.”
“I’m not letting things go for more than thirty days,” she warns me. I nod, restraining my smile of victory.
Kate finishes up and leaves with a cheery wave. I return to moping around the place. Ingrid has sent me a few pictures and texts. I’ve responded just enough and slow enough to put some distance between us without arousing her protective ire. The last thing I want is her flying here to save me from my prior mistakes. Let the media assume she’s so disgusted by whatever they have that she’s left me. Then hopefully it will die down before they can find her and she won’t be touched by any of it.
Thursday night finally arrives. In this era of streaming and everything on demand, it feels weird to be stationed on my couch waiting for the initial commercial break to draw to a close. The hype has only gotten worse in the last twenty-four hours. And while it makes me cringe to watch Margot smirk on the large screen TV, I force myself to study her every nuance. She’s gloating. Even as she holds forth from a bamboo settee placed under a tropical cabana.
“I couldn’t stay. Not once I knew… I understood Justin had a ruthless side, that was hard to miss.” She laughs without humor, her eyes glinting with malice. “But I never imagined he would prey on a young, vulnerable girl like that. No right-thinking person would, you know? It’s hard to picture such co ld-blooded brutality until you’re confronted with the evidence.” She takes a shuddering breath and a sip from some tropical drink.
“And you came across such evidence?” the interviewer asks a little too helpfully.
Margot nods. “Oh, yes.” Another bitter laugh. “I saw the security footage from inside his apartment. It showed him coming out of her bedroom in the middle of the night. Over and over and over.”
Fuck. On so many levels. First of all, she’s lying because there have never been cameras inside my apartment for very obvious reasons. None of which was because I was fucking underage girls. Bile rises in my mouth at the very thought. Somehow she’s learned about Ingrid’s nightmares, but I don’t see how. Ingrid would be the last person to share that with her. And I notice there’s no mention of Ingrid’s age, so the average viewer is left thinking it’s even worse.
“And the girl in question? Why was she even there?”
“She was his ward. She had nowhere else to go. Can you imagine? And now he’s compounded his evil hold on her by forcing her to marry him.” The interviewer gasps.
“No doubt she’s too old to hold his interest now, but her money isn’t.”
I grind my teeth. This is going from bad to worse. I’m sort of surprised the police aren’t already knocking on the door.
“I don’t suppose you were able to save any of the footage?” The reporter asks hopefully.
“No.” Margot shakes her head with regret. “If I had, I would have taken it straight to the police. But it disappeared the very next day. Like he knew it had been reviewed. So then it would just be his word against mine. And with the power he wields in the city…” She gives an exaggerated shiver of fright. “That’s why I’m only saying something now that I’m here. I may have had to leave everything dear behind me to save my own life, bu t I can do this little extra bit to repent for my earlier silence. That poor girl!”
The rest of the hour is just rehashing and reinforcing the same basic rumor, along with extensive and expensive commercial breaks. What the hell are they paying Margot for this piece of pulp fiction? I reach for my phone to order Fred to find out, only to see that my messages have blown up. Not from concerned colleagues or outraged citizens, but Ingrid. My stomach sinks.