Page 60 of Maddy's Justice

After a spectacular lunch, the island’s owner told MacAlister about a special treat he wanted to show him. They walked next door to the newly built house serving as a luxury prison.

“What do you think?”

“Amazing,” MacAlister said. “Stunning.”

“Aren’t they?”

They were standing on the deck of the smaller house overlooking the pool and tennis court. The girls, the Persian twins being held prisoner, were on the tennis court. They had requested it and it was built just for them. As the two men watched, it was obvious the girls were excellent tennis players.

“Abia, Salma, come back in the house,” the men heard Odessa say to them from beneath the deck.

A half hour later, the two men were relaxing in the living room when Odessa led the girls in. Abia wore a blue silk, one-piece pantsuit and Salma wore a matching red one.

“Abia wears blue, Salma red,” the island’s owner explained to MacAlister.

“Is today the day you beat us, rape us, then murder us?” Abia defiantly asked in barely accented English. Both girls had indifferent, almost carefree looks on their faces. Between themselves they had agreed they would not beg for their lives. Or cooperate with their jailer.

“Have I treated you disrespectfully in any way?”

“You keep us here as a prize. Something for you to own, to look at and admire, like a painting or a valuable piece of jewelry. Sooner or later you will tire of us,” Salma said.

“That’s enough,” Odessa angrily said raising her hand to slap Salma.

“No! You do not hit her,” the island’s owner sharply said. “This is your home. You can have anything you want.”

“We want to go back to Iran. The Ayatollahs’ are better than you,” Abia said. “We have told you this, many times.”

With that, the two men abruptly left. When they got outside, MacAlister spoke first.

“They’re like beautiful Arabian horses. Sooner or later, they’ll come around. Let me know when they do.”

“If they don’t pretty soon, she’s right. I’ll grow tired of them. When that happens, I’ll take them up north,” the island’s owner said.

“Maybe you should anyway. The change of scenery may be just what they need,” MacAlister replied.

“Maybe.”

TWENTY

“Thanks again, Dalton,” Marc said to one of Troy McGovern’s lawyers.

They were standing at the exit door leading out to the backstairs and the parking lot. An annoyed Dalton Turner, actually H. Dalton Turner, the H standing for Henry, had driven from downtown to Marc’s office to be interviewed.

“Nice offices,” Dalton sarcastically commented.

“We like it,” Marc replied, showing a smile as if he did not get the man’s arrogance. “We all get along well, work together and are quite comfortable. Not like some big firms where it’s all politics and everybody hates each other.”

“Yeah, um, sure, I can see where that, uh, could be appealing.”

“Thanks, again, Dalton,” Marc said while thinking,now get out you arrogant featherweight.

When she was sure Dalton was gone, Connie came out to talk to Marc.

“Well?” she asked.

“He doesn’t know anything, never saw or heard anything, knows nothing about anyone being sexually harassed and if anybody is sleeping with anyone, it’s absolutely consensual,” Marc said. “Oh, and Troy McGovern is the greatest guy to walk the Earth. Jesus should’ve been so good.”

“That’s not what I was asking about. I told you, I wanted to know what the H stood for?”

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