This woman before me was anything but pitiful. “Strong, Maddie. You were strong. Do you remember any names from the cell house?”
Her head shook. “Not of the customers. They never told us. We were told to call them sir or daddy or some stupid demeaning shit like that.”
My eyes closed and nostrils flared. “Fuck, Madeline.”
Her hand reached for my arm, causing me to open my eyes. “It helps. Now that it’s out, it helps me to say more. I won’t, though, if it upsets you.”
Her sincerity returned a grin to my lips. “My reactions are inconsequential. I’m here for you. I’ll listen every fucking day and night if it helps you. Honestly, I had somehow jumped that step in my mind. I had you going from Miller to McFadden.”
“Maybe McFadden was in charge of the cell house, but he was never there. He came to Dr. Miller’s that first night and then he was in the mansion. The cell house was beneath him.”
Another breath in and out. “You could be on to something. Now that you pointed it out, I have another person’s head to place at your feet.”
“Miss Warner.”
I tried to recall the particulars Madeline had shared during her purge. “She was the woman who ran the cell house?”
“Yes, but I have no way of knowing if that’s her real name.”
“If we find her, I will remove her from your worries.”
“No,” Madeline said. “If you find her, I want to talk to her.”
My hand went to her cheek, gently cupping her soft skin. “I’m warning you, it may be like the Ortizes. She may not remember you.”
“I don’t care. It’s not about that. I don’t care if I’m special to Kristine or Miss Warner. I have something I want to find out.”
“What do you want to know?” I asked.
“I want to know why Miss Warner would do what she did,” Madeline replied. “I guess the question came to me after the first time Andros made me prepare those women. I wondered if Miss Warner performed her role as I had, without choice. Before that day, I’d never given her motivation a second thought. Just maybe she hated what she was doing as much as I did.”
“Or the truth is simpler,” I proposed. “She was merely a cat with a basement full of mice.”
“I’ll never know if I don’t ask.”
Madeline
I looked up at Patrick as we walked to the elevators, knowing that I’d told my story to this loving, handsome tall man at my side and he hadn’t turned me away. As a matter of fact, he’d presented four sacrifices at my feet.
I’d never wanted revenge, and yet when given it as a gift, I willingly accepted it. I’m not sure what that made me other than grateful to be back in his life.
In the great wheel of trafficking and exploitation, I was but a small cog in their businesses. By avenging me, Patrick and his friends avenged others, people like Cindy and Jules as well as so many more. I didn’t care if those four people remembered me—to them I was just another of Miller’s girls. I cared that the man beside me remembered.
We came to a stop at the elevators as I looked down at myself. I was wearing leggings and an oversized sweater. Upon my feet were soft ballet slippers and my hair was pulled back to a low ponytail.
I took a deep breath. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this self-conscious.”
Patrick’s brows knitted together. “Never?”
My head shook, knowing he knew everything. “Yes, probably. It’s that I haven’t seen any of them since Laurel brought me dinner.”
“And you can’t keep avoiding them if you want to live here.”
The doors opened to the empty elevator.
“Is that what you want?” I asked. “For me to stay?”
Pulling my hand that he was holding, Patrick brought me close. “As I said before, more than I’ve wanted anything in my entire life.”
“Then I’ll face them. What do they know? What have you told them?”
“Nothing, Maddie. Ruby doesn’t know anything either. It’s not my story to tell. It’s yours, and you don’t have to tell it. I know these people well enough to know they won’t judge. Every person who lives here, minus Ruby, has their own skeletons.”
The doors closed.
“You had to tell them something. I was practically catatonic for three days.”
“I told them you had a breakthrough, and I wouldn’t leave you alone with all your memories. Reid, Mason, and Sparrow know what you told them on the plane. They can put two and two together. As for the women, I haven’t said and they haven’t asked.”
I sucked in a deep breath as the elevator stopped and the doors opened.
Stepping from the elevator onto the marble hallway, the sound of talking and laughter combined with marvelous scents. We made our way down the hallway, past the large staircase, and toward the kitchen.
My head held high, I felt my muscles tighten with each step until the brightly lit large kitchen came into view. As if flipping a switch, the sound all stopped. I assumed the scents were still there, but if questioned, I couldn’t be sure. Seven sets of eyes turned our way.
Seven.
Ruby was the first to move as she hopped up from where she’d been sitting. “Mom and Patrick.”
Murmurs of greeting came our way with questions about what we’d like to eat and drink.
I barely heard any of it.
There was one set of dark eyes that set my flesh ablaze. It wasn’t a sensual tension as when Patrick looked at me. No, this was prying and painful. I wanted to look away, but I couldn’t
“Madeline,” Mr. Sparrow finally said, standing from where he’d been seated at the table. “In my…could we…” He looked at his wife and back to me. “Could we speak privately for a moment?”
“Sparrow,” Patrick said, again reaching for my hand.
“Sure, Mr. Sparrow,” I said, doing my best to sound confident.
I wasn’t, not at all, but in reality, I’d faced scarier invitations than one coming in front of my husband from one of his best friends.
“Maddie, I’ll come with you,” Patrick offered.
“Then it wouldn’t be private,” I said with a feigned grin. I looked to the rest of the room. “A cup of coffee with cream would be great when we return.”
Mr. Sparrow had made his way to the archway where Patrick and I had just entered. He waited until I reached him and then without a word led me around the stairs and down a hallway. I thought for a moment we were getting on the elevator, but instead, he continued on, leading me to what appeared to be his home office.
As with many of the rooms in the apartments and the penthouse, this room had floor-to-ceiling windows that filled one wall. Glass, chrome, and accent lighting accentuated the space, very unlike the monstrosity of a large wooden desk with intricate carvings that sat in front of a bookshelf. There was a second, more modern desk along another wall. Near the windows were two chairs and a table with a chessboard, ready for the next game. The paintings along the walls were by artists I recognized.
Andros had a thing for owning art.
Jean-Michael Basquiat and Andy Warhol were two that caught my attention.