Truth Be Told (38 page)

S
tarlight jumped from the couch when she heard the pounding on her door.

“Carletta,” she yelled, before she remembered that she had tucked her maid away with relatives two days ago. She didn't want Carletta around in case the media began snooping or the police came questioning.

But as the pounding continued, she wished that her maid was here. Fear tied her to the couch as the violent knocking matched her heartbeat. Was this the manifestation of her nightmare? The one she'd dreamed for two nights where the police arrived in the blackness of the night and towed her away.

It wasn't my fault.

No one could get up to her apartment without being announced—except the police. She turned toward the window, and the morning sun cast its rays into the room, making her squint. In her nightmare, it was always dark. Right now, she was sitting in the middle of light.

The light freed her, allowing her to take slow steps toward the door. She peered through the peephole and sighed with relief.

“I've been trying to reach you for two days, Lexington,” she said the moment she opened the door. But her words faded and she frowned, following his movements as he lunged past her. Though he was dressed in his trademark suit, there was nothing familiar about him. It was apparent that he'd slept in his clothes. And from the stubble on his face to the odor of his body, she could tell that he hadn't spent any of the last forty-eight hours caring for himself.

But that didn't minimize her anger. “Why haven't you returned my calls?”

He stared but didn't answer.

“Lexington, I'm still in charge. You work for me.”

He grunted, a combination of a moan and a laugh. “So you're the boss, huh, Starlight? The boss of what?”

She swallowed. “I've been calling to find out if you have any more news.”

He slumped onto the couch. “You haven't been watching television?”

She shook her head, although she'd seen every breaking report and had read every front-page article. But she wanted to hear his words.

He glanced at the dining table where two days of newspapers were spread. “I don't have anything to add. Nothing but bad news. I'm surprised you haven't been contacted yet.”

She lowered herself next to him. “Contacted by …”

“The police,” he finished before she could ask.

“Why would the police contact me?”

He looked at her for a long moment, then released a laugh as if she was one of the queens of comedy.

She ignored his snickering. “Have they contacted you?”

His laughter stopped. “Are you worried?”

She shook her head.

“Then you're dumber than I thought.”

Her eyes and mouth opened wide at his words. All reverence was gone. Now his glances and his words were filled with contempt.

He stood. “I just came over to see if you were worried yet.”

She stood with him. “Lexington, talk to me. What's going on?”

He moved to the table, picked up the
Los Angeles Times,
and held the front page across his chest like a banner. She'd read the paper several times, but now the headline screamed at her: “Arena Collapse Under Investigation.”

“It's all here,” he said, waving the paper in the air. “People are still missing, probably dead. It's nothing but chaos—except for one thing: the cause has been determined.” He paused. “Too many people in the balcony. And we know how they got there.”

“Lexington, none of that is our fault. We had permits.”

“That we paid a lot of money for.”

She wanted to tell him that there was no “we.” He was the one who had paid for the permits.

“And I paid for everything with your money,” he said, stepping on her thoughts. Then his eyes added his threat—the words that he'd uttered once but that had echoed a million times in her mind—“I'm not going to take the fall alone.”

Although her heart pumped faster, she forced a smile. With unsteady legs, she sauntered toward him. “Why are we fighting, Lexi?” she purred as she wrapped her shaking arms around his neck. “We're in this together.”

He chuckled. “You got that right.”

She resisted turning away from his reeking breath. Instead, she tightened her arms and leaned in. But before she could meet his lips, he jerked away.

“I have to go.”

“Why?” She hoped she didn't sound as desperate as she felt. “I thought we'd spend some time together. We haven't done that in a while.”

He laughed. “Now you want to be with me? The other day you wouldn't even talk to me.”

“Why are you acting this way?”

He glared. “I just came by to make sure you understood my position.” He paused. “When they come to me, Starlight, I'm telling the truth.”

Her eyes flared. “You speak as if I have something to fear.”

His stare was as intense as hers. “You do.”

She squeezed her hands into fists. “When it comes down to it, Lexington,” she paused, her tone now one of steel, “who do you think they'll believe?”

Her words chipped his armor. The smirk he'd worn since he arrived dissipated.

She softened. “I don't want to fight, Lexi. We're on the same side.”

“There are no sides,” he said sadly. “There's only what's right.” He waited a moment before he turned toward the door and walked from her sight.

She stared at the paneled double doors, still smelling his presence. When minutes passed and she hadn't willed his return, she turned away. No matter how much she wanted him to, he didn't come back and pull her into his arms, reassuring her that they would be all right, helping her to plan the strategy that would keep them safe.

She walked slowly to the door and locked it. She didn't need Lexington Jackson. There were many others who would help her. She picked up the phone and dialed. Senator Bonet would be the first.

“I'm sorry. As I told you before, Senator Bonet is unavailable.”

Starlight sighed. Since she had met the senator, she couldn't recall one time when she wasn't available. Either Senator Bonet was in her office, or Starlight was dispatched to her cell phone.

But today she'd been told the same words for two hours.

“This is an emergency, Carole,” she pleaded with the assistant, who had always gushed over her.

“When the senator is available, she will call you.”

Starlight hung up and tried to harness her runaway thoughts. She breathed deeply, wanting to return her heart's pace to normal.

She picked up the phone again and dialed Summer Bonet's apartment, allowing the phone to ring twenty times as she'd done fifteen minutes before.

“No,” she said aloud. “I am not going to think this.”

But as she'd done after she called Summer's number before, she rushed to the table. Her heart pounded as she searched the paper, even though she knew the names of the injured and missing had not been released. But it didn't matter because Summer couldn't possibly be among them. She'd given the senator's daughter VIP seats, only rows from the stage. All of the damage was in the back.

There was nothing to worry about, her mind told her, although her heart debated the other side.

She glanced at the clock. It was after noon, and she was still in her robe. She hadn't even had her morning coffee. Nothing was as important as forming her protective alliance.

She looked at the phone. It was too soon to call the senator again, but maybe it was time to strengthen the hedge around her.

For the first time in days, she smiled as she picked up the phone. With the people she knew, there was no way the police would come knocking.

She dialed the private number and was surprised when a woman's voice answered.

“May I speak with Pastor Carey.”

“Who may I tell him is calling?”

“Starlight.”

“I'll see if he's available.”

She heard muffled words, and Starlight strained to understand.

“I'm sorry, the pastor is not available.”

Starlight's heart fluttered. “May … may I leave a message.”

There was a pause. “If you want.”

“Please tell him that I need to speak with him immediately.”

Before she hung up, Starlight knew that either her message would not be delivered or worse—it already had been. And Pastor Carey's message had been delivered to her, as loud as Senator Bonet's.

She was a pariah.

Her friends were fading, while her enemies circled.

I
t had been exactly twenty-four hours since Grace had received the call. And now she beamed at her sister-in-law as Devry held her two-hour-old son.

Grace and Conner had stayed in touch all night, expecting a baby by morning. But when Conner had called before the sun even shone and there was no new Monroe, he had paced their bedroom as if he were in the delivery room.

“Don't you remember?” Grace had chuckled. “First babies take their time.”

Two hours after noon, Chandler Anthony Monroe II screamed at the world.

Now Grace cooed when the baby's pinkish-brown toes peeked, then wiggled from under the birthing blanket that swaddled the rest of him. In an instant, she was transformed to another space—when she had held her babies for the first time. She'd loved Jayde so much she worried whether there was enough room in her heart for another child. But the moment Amber had been placed in her arms, her heart expanded. It was then that she first yearned for a third—a boy.

“You have a son, Grace.”

She took her eyes from the baby and looked at Devry. She wasn't sure if she'd imagined the words or if her sister-in-law had read her mind. But when Devry smiled, Grace decided it didn't matter. Whatever voice spoke, it told the truth: Solomon was Conner's and her son.

“He's beautiful,” Grace said, returning to her nephew.

“I know.”

They laughed together.

“I'd better go so that Conner can see him. He's dying to see this Monroe child.”

Devry nodded. “Chandler is probably telling Conner tall tales about how his son has already spoken his first words.”

“And Conner would believe him.” She kissed Devry on her forehead and turned to the door.

Before she stepped from the room, Devry said, “Grace, we both did good.”

Grace smiled at her friend.

“We had a tough labor, but God was working. We have beautiful sons.”

She did read my mind, Grace thought. She smiled and walked from the room. The moment she stepped into the hall, she could hear Chandler's laughter as he waited with Conner at the other end of the hall.

Grace smiled. Yes, they'd all been through quite a labor. She began to tick off the challenges in her mind, but then decided against it. No need to look backward. But she did pause. And looked up. And said, “Thank you.”

Grace moseyed into their bedroom. “All of our children are accounted for. Amber and Solomon are almost asleep and Jayde,” she paused for a second, “well, she didn't feel like talking.” Grace smiled.” I am glad to have that teenager back.“ When Grace turned to Conner, his eyes were still buried inside the newspaper. She frowned. “Starlight?”

He nodded. “It's getting serious. There's a full-fledged criminal investigation, and the district attorney's throwing around charges that could carry prison sentences.”

Grace rested her head on his shoulder. “Starlight hasn't returned my calls. Mom keeps saying everything is fine. She must not be watching the news.”

Conner laid the newspaper aside. “Did you hear anything at the office?”

Grace shook her head. “Zoë tried to contact her sources, but she couldn't squeeze out any information. That's what scares me.”

Conner nodded in agreement. “Only the most serious investigations are so secretive.”

“Starlight is not guilty.”

“No one has accused her of anything.”

“The implications are there. They keep talking about her organization and the illegal payoffs. If there were any payoffs, I would bet her assistant had something to do with it.” She paused. “Hopefully, I'll find out something tomorrow at city hall.”

“Well, all we can do is let Starlight know that we're here.”

“And we can pray.”

Conner turned off the light and laid back. As she lay in his arms, Grace squeezed her eyes, thinking of those who tonight were praying for the safe return of loved ones who were missing or injured in the arena collapse. She gave thanks to the Lord that with everything they had been through, the five of them rested under the same roof tonight.

Conner's arms tightened around her, and Grace knew that her husband was praying and giving thanks for the same blessings.