Page 53 of Cruel Dreams

Quinn’s still sleeping, but Stella’s side of the bed is empty and my mouth dries. I can’t keep an eye on her every second, but until Clayton and Ash can’t hurt her anymore, I’ll panic anytime she’s not with me. I quickly dress and look for her in Max’s suite.

Breakfast was delivered at the same time it always is, and he’s selecting pastries and putting them on a tray next to a carafe of coffee and three mugs. “Her wrist was hurting and Mel brought her to a private clinic. She called a few places and found one that won’t ask questions about Stella’s medical history and accepts cash payments. Ash knows she’s not dead, but no one else does. Mel thought it best to keep it that way for now.” It would be like Stella not to want to bother me, but I wish she would have woken me to drive her. I wouldn’t have been as smart as Mel, though. Continuing to keep Stella’s identity a secret would never have occurred to me. “Ingrid and Zarah are on the roof. Are you okay?” he asks, holding the tray.

“Yeah, thanks. Go ahead.”

Max snags his laptop case and passes Denton on his way out the door.

I pour a cup of coffee, and Denton approaches me holding his own mug of the steaming black brew. “Good work.”

I shrug. I didn’t do anything. “Thank Douglas. If he wouldn’t have stayed close to Ladies and Gentleman, we might never have known what happened. Nathalie would have disappeared, Quinn and Stella right along with her.” I sip. “Where is he?”

“At the shipyard. They’re dragging the Renegade for Nathalie’s body, and he wanted to be there.”

“I hope she finds the peace she deserves,” I say, and that’s as far as I can go to saying I’m sorry that she’s dead. If what Quinn and Mel think is true, she was deceiving us the entire time. All the work we went through to fake Stella’s death was for nothing. All her pain was for nothing. Ash knew my every move, my every step of my every plan, all because Nathalie was feeding him the words as they came out of my mouth. I was a fool to trust her, but then again, that’s nothing new, and another regret I’ll have to live with.

I debate calling him and asking if he knows where Nathalie is. More games, more lies. I could tell him the last I heard she went to his club to party and I haven’t seen her since, but what’s the point. The seizure of his ship has made it clear it’s us against him, and there’s no use keeping up the pretense we’re still friends.

I need air, a distraction while I wait for Stella to come back to the hotel, and I find it on the rooftop, Zarah swishing her feet back and forth in the pool and holding a mug of coffee. Max is reclining in the shade, his laptop in his lap and a plate of pastries placed on a little table by his side. I’m grateful that despite all the chaos, he hasn’t left my sister alone. Ingrid is also enjoying the late morning sunshine, sipping coffee and reading theChronicle.

“Hey, Z.” I sit next to her, but I don’t put my feet in the water. I want to talk and ask if she’s handling this okay. Her doctor and I haven’t been in contact, and I need to call and update him soon. I’ll also find out if he’s discovered anything more about Quiet Meadows.

“Hi,” she says, squinting at me. “Stella’s okay.”

“Yeah, she is. Douglas did a good thing.”

“When will Ash go to jail?” she asks.

“Soon. The FBI is gathering evidence, and he’ll be brought up on a lot of charges. How are you doing?”

“Okay.” She pauses. “Can we go home? I miss Lucille.”

Max glances at her and frowns.

“No, not yet. She’s visiting her family. I didn’t want her in the city while all this was happening. Do you want to talk to her?” I ask, digging my cell phone out of my pocket.

Her face lights up. “Can I?”

“I’ll see if she answers. If she can talk, I’ll give you the phone.”

I pass an hour listening to Zarah’s side of the conversation. She’s excited, and she tells our housekeeper everything. She’s observant, and perhaps not as buried under the drugs as I thought. Even she didn’t trust Nathalie. It’s a reminder I shouldn’t confuse her silent inquisitiveness as stunted psychological development. Maybe she can still have a normal life. Maybe the drugs didn’t do irrevocable damage. Maybe Ash didn’t break her.

While Zarah and Lucille wrap up their chat, I sink into a patio chair next to Max. “What are you working on?”

He swallows a bite of chocolate croissant and says, “Something Huxley said that night when he and Nathalie were at the Black Cat Motel bothers me. He mentioned the Blacks’ foundations, how nothing the Blacks did was legitimate.”

“I’m not surprised.”

“Neither am I, but I did some snooping, and one of their foundations, the one that helps families adopt children, wasn’t only paying adoption fees or matching teen moms to loving parents. They were kidnapping infants and selling them to families who could afford their prices.”

“Christ,” I murmur, staring into my coffee cup. “Think of the families they’ve torn apart.”

“You’d know better than anyone,” he says.

“Yeah. I do.”

I didn’t know then, but Ash still wasn’t done fucking with me or what little family I had left. Even if I had known, there was no way I could have stopped it. The damage had been done long ago.

I leave Max scrolling through old online issues of theChronicle,searching for articles on babies that have been kidnapped over the years to compare them to adoptions made around the same time, and grateful she lets me, I kiss Zarah’s cheek. I want to see Stella, and I go downstairs to wait for her and Mel. They should be back soon, and I need to spend some time alone with her. Ash and Clayton will be exposed at the gala tonight, and we may not have a quiet minute for days. Maybe weeks.

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