She decided a Popsicle sounded good so she got one from the freezer, put it on a plate, and went back to the television. Maybe she could find an old classic movie to take her mind off her worries. A knock on the door startled her, and an instant of panic gripped her stomach. Had one of the angry investors gotten inside the building? She walked over and peered through the peephole. When she saw Grayson standing there, she threw the door open and fell into his arms. He looked tired, she thought.

“What are you doing here? It’s almost ten. Did you just get back from New York? Shouldn’t you be—”

His mouth stopped her. He tightened his hold and kissed the breath out of her. She didn’t resist him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back passionately. It had been such an awful day, but he was here now, and everything was better.

“I missed you, too.” He took off his coat, hung it in the closet, and draping his arm around her, pulled her along to the sofa.

“How’s Henry?”

“Fully recovered,” he replied. “When I opened the file you sent and saw Henry being slammed into his locker, I wanted to lock that Deckman kid up in solitary for the rest of his life.”

“That’s a little extreme, don’t you think?” she teased.

“Henry and Patrick are singing your praises. Thank you, by the way.”

He kissed her on her forehead and pulled her down next to him. They talked about the school for a few more minutes, and then Olivia said, “I want to hear about the files again. Tell me everything. Start at the beginning when you entered the apartment.”

She took a bite of the Popsicle and waited. Grayson, she noticed, was staring at her mouth.

“I can’t concentrate while you’re eating that,” he said.

A little bit of the devil in her came out. She put the Popsicle in her mouth and sucked the sweet cherry juice. “How come?” she asked innocently.

His eyes narrowed. “Olivia,” he warned, “want to find out how fast I can get your clothes off?”

Smiling sweetly, she stopped tormenting him and took the Popsicle to the sink. Her mood changed immediately when she heard her phone ring.

Grayson went to the door of her study to listen to the incoming call. He obviously didn’t like what he heard. “Son of a bitch,” he growled. “Did you hear that?” he asked when she came back into the living room.

She shook her head. “Come sit and tell me—”

“How many others are there?” he demanded.

“I’m up to fifty-some now.”

“Son of a . . .”

“Grayson, you knew this was coming.”

“Did you listen to all of them?” His voice shook, he was so angry.

“Yes,” she said. “Trust me. You don’t want to. Some of them are sick.”

“How many were death threats?”

“Stop snapping at me. I didn’t make the calls.”

Her retort eased some of the tension, and he gave her a slight smile.

“I should have erased them and turned the phone off,” she admitted.

“No, absolutely not. I’m going to have every damned call traced.”

“You can’t arrest people for saying mean things.”

“Death threats? Hell yes, I can arrest them.”

“When did you get back from New York?” she asked to keep him from getting worked up again.

“Around five today. I didn’t see the video until I got home.” He was still glaring as he followed her.

“Did you get to see any Broadway shows?” she asked with a straight face.

The question jarred him; then he laughed. He dropped down next to her and swung his feet up on the ottoman. “I was in your father’s study until after two. Then I went back around nine this morning. Spent most of the day there.”

“I’ve never been to the apartment,” she said.

He described the layout but didn’t mention the fact that there wasn’t a single photo of her anywhere. He went into detail about the secret room and what he had seen in the files.

“Ronan talked to Wilcox’s attorney, told him what we found,” he said.

“That’s wonderful,” she said. “Emma will be so relieved.”

“There’s more,” he continued. “And I think you’ll really like this.”

“What?” she asked.

“You know that Eric Jorguson invested with your father.”

“Yes.”

“It appears that not all the money Jorguson had flowing through the fund was going into his retirement nest egg. When the auditors sort it all out, I’m pretty sure they’ll be able to prove this was one of his money-laundering accounts.”

“Wouldn’t that be something?” Olivia shook her head. She’d listened intently to all the evidence that was piling up against her father, and the cold reality of the situation was setting in. “This is going to go on for a long while, isn’t it?” she asked. “The phone calls and the threats?”

“Depends on the next big story.” Grayson could see her wilting before his eyes, so he changed the subject. “Want to know what I did when I got home this evening?”

“What?” she asked, wondering why he suddenly sounded exasperated. “Did you eat dinner with Henry and Patrick?”

“Yes,” he replied. “Henry met me at the door and went into a long narration of what happened at school. Then Patrick gave me his summary. Then Henry started over again,” he said, smiling. “You impressed the socks off him, Olivia. He’s now quoting you.”

“He’s sweet,” she said. “And so is Patrick.”

“Uh-huh, sweet. We sat down for dinner when sweet Henry remembered he had another assignment due tomorrow.”

She bit her lower lip to keep from laughing. “What was it?”

“He had to memorize all the states in alphabetical order and all the capitals. He was supposed to have been working on it for a couple of weeks, but he just remembered tonight.” He shook his head as he added, “When he told me, I swear I was speechless.”

“What did you do?”

“It wasn’t as bad as I thought. He knew some of them, and Patrick came up with a rap tune. It made it easier for Henry.”

“Did you memorize them along with him?”

“Yes . . . and, no, I’m not singing for you.”

“Children learn quickly. I’m sure you got through the assignment in no time.”

“I haven’t told you about the math yet.”

The lighthearted conversation ended with the doorbell. Then the banging on the door started. Olivia reluctantly went to answer it. She looked through the peephole and groaned.

“Who is it?” he asked, coming up behind her.

“World War Three,” she said. “Natalie and my mother.”

“You don’t have to let them in.”

“Oh yes, I do. Natalie will stand there hitting the door and shouting until tomorrow if she has to. I might as well get it over with now.”

Grayson made her step back into the living room before he opened the door. Natalie couldn’t storm inside because he blocked her.

“Where is my sister?” she demanded. She pushed against his chest.

“You don’t want to do that.”

“I know she’s here. Let me in,” she shouted.

Since she was acting like a child, he decided to treat her like one. “You will behave yourself, or you will leave.”

The second he stepped back, Natalie rushed in. Her mother, Deborah, showed more decorum. She nodded to Grayson as she walked past.

Natalie saw Olivia and screamed, “Do you know what you’ve done?”

Ignoring her sister, Olivia said, “Hello, Mother.”

Deborah MacKenzie looked exhausted. Grayson noticed her hands were shaking as she struggled to remove her coat. He took it from her.

She was a beautiful woman. Except for the color of their eyes—Olivia’s were blue; Deborah’s were brown—Olivia looked just like her.

“Hello, Olivia. How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine. How are you?”

“I’m very distressed,” she said. “I don’t understand what’s happening. Your father’s in jail, and he’s been accused of stealing money. It’s outrageous to think that my husband would do such a thing. It’s all a misunderstanding,” she whispered. “It has to be.”

“No, Mother, it isn’t a misunderstanding. This is what I’ve been trying to tell you, but you wouldn’t listen.”

“This is all your fault,” Natalie yelled. She was pacing around the room with her arms crossed.

Olivia turned to her. “Sit down and wait your turn. I’m talking to Mother. When I’m finished, I’ll listen to you.”

“You selfish—”

“Don’t say it. If you call me names, you’re out of here.”

Grayson smiled. He was impressed with the way Olivia had taken the upper hand.

“Mother, I know this is a shock.”

Olivia could see the anger washing over her mother. She straightened up, her spine rigid. Her voice turned to ice when she said, “A shock? My husband is in jail. It’s all a mistake,” she insisted. “Because of you, young lady. You started all those rumors. You’ve ruined your father with your foolish accusations.”

Rumors? Olivia didn’t know where to start. She looked at Grayson and lifted her shoulders.

“You must fix this,” her mother implored. “Show your father the support he needs now. He’s all alone in New York, without any family to help him through this humiliation. I wanted to go and stand by his side, but he’s been denied bail.”

For good cause, Olivia knew. They were sure he would try to run.

“I’m going home with Natalie,” she said then. “I’ll stay with her until this is resolved.”

Hopeless. Her mother was completely hopeless. Still drinking Robert MacKenzie’s poisoned water, Olivia realized. Eventually she would be forced to face reality. And so would Natalie. It wouldn’t do any good to try to reason with either of them now. She actually felt sorry for them. Acknowledging the truth was going to be painful.

“Okay, Natalie, it’s your turn,” Olivia said.

“Did you know George is sitting in a cell? He’s been accused of the most heinous crimes.”

“Yes, I do know,” she replied calmly. She crossed the room to Grayson and leaned against him. She needed comfort.

“This is all such a mess,” Natalie railed.

“The time is getting away from us, Natalie. Get the papers out,” her mother ordered.

Uh-oh. Olivia didn’t like the sound of that.

Natalie opened her purse and pulled out a stack of papers. She unfolded them and was searching for a pen.

“What are you doing?” Olivia asked.

Natalie finally explained. “Mother and Father’s assets have been frozen, and most of my money is unavailable. I have a small account that will get us through, but there isn’t enough to pay for George’s defense. So, you’re going to sign over your trust. I know you don’t get the money for another year, but if you sign it over to us now, we can borrow against it and hire the best attorney we can find to clear this up. You got him into this mess. You can damn well help to get him out.”

“You must help your father, too,” her mother said firmly. She put her purse over her arm and reached for her coat. “You simply must call your aunt Emma and insist that she support your father.”

“And by support, Mother, do you mean you want me to ask her to give Father all of her money?”

Her mother’s chin came up. “Yes, that’s exactly what I mean. His defense will be expensive, and Emma is a member of this family. She must do her part.”

“You need to sign these papers,” Natalie reminded, shoving them at her. “And we aren’t leaving until you do.”

Olivia pushed them away. “I’m not signing anything.”

“Yes, you are,” Natalie cried. “You owe us.”

For Olivia, that was the final straw. As she calmly walked out of the room, she turned back and said, “Grayson, please get the door.”

TWENTY-SEVEN

Olivia was sitting with Jane and Collins in Jane’s hospital room, catching them up on the latest events. The news about her father was still a hot topic on TV, but now the how-could-this-have-happened-again questions had started. Fingers were pointed; and if history were to repeat itself, no one was going to step up and take responsibility for not doing his job.

Olivia wondered how many had ignored all the signs and all the complaints and had simply turned a blind eye.

Collins couldn’t understand how Natalie could blame Olivia.

“It’s easier to blame me than to admit that she was horribly deceived by her father,” Olivia explained. “Natalie trusted him.”

“Natalie knows what a Ponzi scheme is, doesn’t she?”

“Of course she does,” Olivia said.

“What do you think she’ll do when she finds out about George’s debt to that loan shark?” Jane asked.

“She won’t be happy,” Collins predicted.

Olivia laughed. “You think?”

“What about your mother?” Collins asked. “Do you think she’ll ever figure it out?”

“I doubt it. She’s a lost cause.”

“No, she’s just loyal to a fault,” Jane said. “No one’s a lost cause. Look at my brother. Logan’s completely turned his life around.”

Olivia smiled. Jane always looked for the good in people. She wished she could be more like her friend. She had such a sweet disposition and a gentle soul.

“If convicted on all counts, your father will never get out of prison,” Collins predicted.

“How do you feel about that?” Jane asked. She sounded like a therapist now. She was sitting up in bed, trying to ignore Collins, who was fluffing her pillows.

“It’s for the best,” Olivia said. “If he got out, he’d just do it again. He really can’t help the way he is.”

Collins disagreed. “Your father knows the difference between right and wrong. He set out to steal.”

Jane pulled a pillow from behind her and whacked Collins with it. “Go sit down and stop fussing over me.”

Laughing, Collins dodged the attack and sat on the edge of the bed. Olivia took the pillow and put it on a chair. She noticed a couple of long strands of Jane’s hair. Oh God, it was falling out again. Was she doing chemo and not telling them? She turned the pillow over so Jane wouldn’t notice, then went to the window ledge and leaned against it.