Chapter 15 #2
Thankfully a mountain of a man lumbered from the front entrance and summoned the animals. Gifting him with a grateful smile, she opened her door, glanced around just to make sure there was nothing else to worry about before getting out. A long white limousine sat in the bend of the circular drive.
Tugging at her blouse, she closed her door and summoned the nerve to head for the entrance. The towering door opened and another massive man gestured for her to enter. Emily walked past him and paused just inside the grand entry hall.
“Are you armed?”
She scowled at the man. “What? No.”
“Lift your arms,” he ordered.
Appalled but not inclined to learn the consequences of refusing, she raised her arms. He patted her down, just like in the movies. She gasped when he reached her thighs.
He glanced up. “Spread your legs.”
Horrified but certain this was the only way to get past the man, she obeyed. When he’d finished, he stood. “Let’s go.”
Reeling at the violation, she followed him up an elegant staircase and then into a large office.
Sidney Fairgate sat behind a wide, gleaming desk. He was older than Emily by several years, but she’d seen him around at the trial. She recalled quite distinctly that he had a reputation for being as crude as he was unattractive.
“Do you need money?” he demanded, those beady eyes peering at her as if he hoped to see through her clothes.
She remembered that too. He was known for being nasty and mean when it came to women. “No.”
“Then why are you here?”
She wet her lips and took the necessary leap. “I want to know if my father is in trouble . . . financially.”
Fairgate’s eyebrows shot upward. “I can’t discuss anyone else’s business with you. What kind of man do you think I am?”
Fear sparked along her nerve endings, made standing still extremely difficult. “I just want to help.”
“You can’t help.”
Emily blinked, startled by his indifference. “Surely there’s something I can do.”
A sinister smile spread across his hawk-like features. “There are always things a woman can do,” he said as he blatantly sized her up, “but I’m certain you wouldn’t be interested.”
Anger kicked up enough to make her go temporarily stupid. “Stop harassing my father.”
“Or what?” Fairgate fired back.
The huge guy who’d led her here and who had waited by the door until now took a step in her direction.
Time to go. She turned her back to the pig behind the desk and started for the door.
“If you want to know your daddy’s troubles, Miss Emily Wallace,” Fairgate said, causing her to hesitate, “ask him to tell you the secret he’s been keeping for all these years.”
What kind of secret? What did he mean, all these years? Don’t ask. Just go! She prepared to move toward the door once more.
“Everybody has their secrets, including your precious daddy,” Fairgate taunted. “Nobody’s perfect.”
Anger poked at her, had her sucking up her courage and turning to face him.
“There’s one difference between you and my father, Mr. Fairgate.
” That dark, penetrating gaze probed her, but she refused to be intimidated.
“My father would never keep a secret that would hurt another person. You, I am quite certain, would have no qualms doing just that.”
He sneered at her. “I have secrets, Miss Wallace. Many, many secrets. And, as you say, a number of those would cause harm. Some already have.”
She told herself not to be baited . . . told herself to go . . . but she couldn’t walk out now without asking. Between Justine bringing it up and Emily’s parents’ argument and then this . . . she couldn’t not ask.
“Like . . .” she heard herself say, her mouth going sandbox dry, “. . . the one about Clint Austin’s alibi?” Her heart stumbled as her own words, words of betrayal, ricocheted in the room.
Fairgate snickered. “I wondered how long it would take people to start asking that question now that he’s out.
I got one thing to say; the answer to that question is for me to know and you not to, Miss Wallace.
That’s the thing about secrets. You can keep them.
If you have other interests regarding Mr. Austin, perhaps I can assist you with those. ”
Outrage unfurled, mostly at herself. “The only thing about Clint Austin that interests me, Mr. Fairgate, is making sure justice is served.”
“Really.” He braced his hands on his desk, leaned forward. “And here I was thinking you were interested in the truth.”
She pivoted away from the amusement in those beady eyes and stamped out. Taking the stairs in a blind rush, she flew to the front door, already standing open with another of those bouncer-type guys waiting to close it behind her.
Outside, she gulped as much air as possible. Bastard.
She didn’t care what that evil little man said, her father had to have a good reason for interacting with him.
Ed Wallace wouldn’t have any secrets harmful to anyone other than perhaps himself.
The remark about her being interested in the truth had been designed to unnerve her. Well, Fairgate had succeeded. Damn him.
She started her car, executed a three-point turn, and barreled down the drive. She stopped for the gate, irritation pounding with every beat she waited; then she rolled out into the street.
A black Corolla parked on the other side of the street caused her to slow when she wanted to floor the accelerator and rocket away from this place. The woman behind the wheel stared at Emily, then waved through her open window.
Misty Briggs?
Emily braked automatically, powered her window down, and resuscitated one of her pretend smiles. “Hi.” She could feel the new rumors forming and mutating already. She should not have come here.
Misty Briggs adjusted her clunky glasses. “Emily.” She glanced at the closing gate. “Fancy meeting you here.”
Emily prompted her brain to generate a plausible excuse. “I came to speak with Mr. Fairgate.” No point pretending otherwise. The woman wasn’t blind, just nearsighted.
“Oh.” Ms. Briggs met Emily’s eyes briefly, then stared in the direction of the house again as if something there kept distracting her. “Lots of people come to see him.”
Okay. No need to prolong this strange reunion. Before Emily could offer a parting line, Briggs asked, “Was he there?”
Confused at first, Emily asked, “Who?”
Those huge hazel eyes, magnified further by the thick lenses, flicked to Emily’s. “Fairgate.”
“Oh. Yes, he was there.”
“Alone?”
Stranger by the second. “You mean alone other than his apelike bodyguards?”
“Yes, that’s what I mean.”
“I didn’t see anyone else.” Sitting here having this discussion with her former science teacher who had clearly inhaled way too many toxic fumes was incredibly weird. “Well, it was good to see you.”
Briggs scrutinized Emily now as if she’d only just realized to whom she was speaking.
“Justine mentioned that she’d spoken with you.
” Briggs said this as if she hadn’t heard Emily’s cue that she intended to go, as if she hadn’t asked those odd questions about Fairgate.
“She thought you seemed terribly upset about Clint Austin’s release. ”
Emily wanted to ask what she was supposed to feel; instead, she said with amazing aplomb, “I’m extremely disappointed in the legal system.”
Briggs pushed at her glasses again. “You know, I almost hate to mention this, but the subject came up in the hair salon the other day.”
Here it came. This was why Emily rarely came home and never ventured into town.
“I’m certain there’s nothing to it,” Misty went on. “Just a rumor.”
Emily braced herself. She should just drive away and leave the woman sitting here wondering why.
“It was very disturbing, though. The rumor suggested that Austin was innocent. That his alibi was real, but he just couldn’t prove it.” She stared at the Fairgate house again as if God himself resided there. “I guess only he knows the answer to that one.”
Despite having buttressed herself for the disclosure, Emily hadn’t been adequately prepared.
She couldn’t dredge up a response. The idea that Justine had mentioned being at the salon with all Emily’s old friends filtered through along with Misty’s remarks.
Had they all been talking about Emily? About the murder?
A symphony of notes shattered the stifling silence.
“That’s my phone.” Briggs offered a quick smile. “Maybe I’ll see you again before you go back to Birmingham.”
Emily managed a choked goodbye, took her foot off the brake, and coasted away. She glanced in her rearview mirror. She’d gone through all that emotional turmoil and she still didn’t know any more than she had before she’d arrived.
Except a lot of ridiculous gossip about Austin’s alibi. He didn’t have an alibi.
What the hell did her father have to do with any of this? Her father did not keep damaging secrets. Gossip. Rumors. That was all this was.
Secrets and lies.
None of it changed the truth.
Emily knew the truth.