“Sit down,” Sparrow ordered. “Reid, show them what you just showed us.”
The screen filled with a newscast. The bottom ticker read BREAKING NEWS - LIVE, but since Sparrow and Mason had already seen it, it was obviously no longer live. The backdrop was in front of Marion Elliott’s home or appeared to be. I’d only seen it in pictures and satellite images.
The volume rose as a reporter pushed a microphone toward Elliott.
My spine straightened as Elliott’s drawl resonated through the cabin. “Asshole, your days are numbered,” I muttered under my breath at the man who as recently as yesterday had paid ten million dollars for my wife.
“…just awful,” he said, his expression downtrodden. “We have evidence to believe that Miss Tate, who those in the world of poker know as Madeline Miller, has been taken. Her bodyguard, a trusted employee of mine, was left unconscious as was Mr. Randolph St. Pierre of St. Pierre Jewelers.” He looked at the camera. “This is a crime and a travesty.” The camera came closer. “I’m offering a one-million-dollar reward to the person or persons who can locate and safely return my fiancée to me.”
The reporter brought the microphone to her lips. “Ladies and gentlemen, you heard it here first. Marion Elliott is offering a one-million-dollar reward.”
He reached for the microphone. “That reward includes law enforcement. I will give the money to your department. I want everyone everywhere to be on alert. Can you show her picture and the hotline number and website?”
“Yes,” the reporter said as she touched something in her ear and turned back to Elliott. “Did you say fiancée?”
“Yes, ma’am. You see, last night Madeline agreed to marry me. We are in love. Today she was at the jewelry store to have her wedding ring sized. We were both elated. Madeline wouldn’t leave of her own accord.” He sighed. “I’m also concerned that she could be a danger to herself and possibly even her daughter—”
His lips moved, saying Ruby, but the sound was muted.
The reporter pulled the microphone away. “Sir, this station forbids the naming of minors without parental consent.”
Madeline stood, backing away from the screen with her arms once again surrounding her torso. “Why is he doing this?”
We turned our attention back to the screen as Marion pulled upon the brim of his hat, shielding the sunshine from his eyes. “I’m sorry, little miss. I can’t think straight until I know she’s safe—they’re both safe.”
Madeline shook her head.
“Can you tell us why you’re worried about Ms. Tate being a danger to herself?” the reporter asked.
“I’d rather not say,” Elliott replied.
“Mr. Elliott, you brought it up. Sharing this information could possibly help her.”
Elliott nodded. “If it will help.” He looked straight in the camera again. “Madeline doesn’t want others to know; however, Miss Tate has a history of psychosis. She’s stable when medicated, but heaven knows what she could say or do when she isn’t.”
“No, I don’t,” Madeline said.
The reporter was talking, “…particular symptoms?”
Elliott’s head shook. “Although we’ve only recently become close, she confided in me that she has a history of delusions. When that occurs, she is plagued by a distorted perception of reality—past and present. Apparently, she’s been known to make all kinds of false statements.”
“Have you filed a missing person’s report?”
“A criminal report has been filed. This was a crime. David, my employee who was with her, as well as Mr. St. Pierre, have given their statements to the police. The scene appears to be a robbery turned kidnapping.”
“Is there anything else you’d like to add,” the reporter asked.
The camera again zoomed closer. “Madeline, if you can hear this, don’t be afraid. I’m looking for you and will stop at nothing to have you back. I want you to know I’ll get you home where you belong.”
“Thank you, Mr. Elliott. Ladies and gentlemen…”
The broadcast disappeared and Reid reappeared. “It aired about twenty minutes ago,” he said. “The tip line is fielding hundreds of calls. I can’t listen to them all. I have a word-search program installed. If anyone mentions Patrick, Kelly, Ruby, Sparrow, or Chicago, it will trigger a recording and informational scan of the call. We’ll know who called and from where. So far, I believe the callers are out for the cash.”
“That last thing he said,” Madeline said, “sounded like he was reassuring me, but he wasn’t. That was a warning, telling me he’d get me back there. He’s upset he paid ten million and his purchase disappeared.”
“Fuck him,” I said. “You’re not going back.”
“Then why else did he make this statement?” she asked.
Sparrow spoke, “It seems to me that he’s preemptively gaslighting. His comments about your psychosis, claiming that you have delusions, are a preventative measure in case you would decide to come forward about what really occurred.”
“That he bought me.”
Everyone nodded.
Madeline’s eyes opened wider. “I wouldn’t tell. I didn’t want to tell any of you.”
“You will land soon,” Reid said. “Garrett is waiting and will bring you all here. Once you’re secure, we can deal with this.”
Sparrow looked at his watch. “I need a separate car to head to the office. Stephanie rescheduled my meeting and I’m already late.”
Reid nodded. “We’ll get it squared away, boss.”
“Who are you meeting with?” I asked.
“The CFO of the tech company who is currently leasing Elliott’s building.”
“Excuse me,” Madeline interjected. “Secure? Are you saying you won’t stop me from entering wherever…” She motioned to Reid. “…there is?”
“You’ll be secure,” Sparrow said, “in Patrick’s apartment. The rest is negotiable.”
Her green eyes turned to me. “Ruby?”
“Yes.”
“Thank you. I thought once you knew the truth about who I am and what I’ve done that you’d send me away.”
“Madeline,” Sparrow said, “it’s the opposite. Continue the honesty and this may work.”
“Even when it’s ugly?”
I reached for her hand. “Maddie girl, we all have ugly truths. Most truths aren’t pretty. They’re real and raw. Don’t shield that from any of us. We can take it and the more we know, the more we can do.”
Sparrow looked over at Madeline. “Please, sit back down. We don’t have much time. What can you tell us about Ivanov?”
Madeline sat, placing her hands on the table. “I don’t know where to start. Ask me and I’ll answer.”
Sparrow began.
Madeline
Over sixteen years ago
After my arrival to Andros’s home, the room next door to my suite had been converted to a nursery with a pocket door installed for direct access. Both of the rooms had French doors leading to balconies that overlooked an interior courtyard. Although it was surrounded by tall brick walls of the house, the gardens were a paradise within. Whether sitting on the balcony in the morning sunshine or walking the paths between the flowers with Irina, my helper in all things, or Tadeas, my tutor, it was a beautiful and peaceful escape from the happenings in the rest of the house.