Page 42

HOLT

They’ve only been here a half hour, and I’m already on my second bathroom break. I don’t even have to piss. I just have a nervous, dread-filled energy and can’t stay seated.

Right now, there’s a five-person legal team sitting at the dining room table in my living room. And Ella.

I check my watch, wondering where Marcum is. Right then, the new security system intercom buzzes. For the time being, there’s a security guy out front working the gates. “Mr. Hill, Patrick Marcum has arrived. He’s coming through the security gate now.”

I walk down the hall, wanting to have a quick word with Marcum by myself before he joins the group. I’m surprised to see Marcum’s not alone when he comes in from the garage. “Nate?” My brow furrows. Today’s a school day; he should be in school. “Everything okay?”

Nate shuffles past me. Looking down, he shifts the backpack on his back.

“Sorry, I’m late,” Marcum says. “Nate’s gonna do his homework in your office, if that’s okay?”

“Yeah, of course.” I shrug in question, “Is he sick?”

Marcum shakes his head. “Not sick. Suspended.”

“Suspended!” I grab Nate’s shoulder before he gets farther away from me. “What happened?”

Slowly, he looks up, and I’m shocked to see the nasty purple and blue shiner on his face. “You have a black eye,” I say, pointing out the obvious.

The look on his face tells me all I need to know.

But… I still ask him anyway. “What the hell happened?”

He swallows. “Don’t worry about it, Holt.”

My eyes harden and my voice drops, giving him a warning. “Nate.”

He sighs. “They were saying things about you that aren’t true. I couldn’t let them do that.”

“Who was?”

“Some guys at school. Don’t worry about them. They’re bullies. They deserved what they got. Stupid asswipes.”

“Hey!” Marcum raises his voice and points at the office. “In there. Shut the door and do your homework. Not a peep. You hear me?”

“Yes, sir.” Taking his marching orders, Nate disappears, shutting the door.

Depression consumes me, making it hard to breathe. My heart thunders, and a tight vise circles around my heart.

It’s happening. The kids are starting to get hurt.

I’m ruining everyone’s lives.

I can’t fucking stand this. I feel like I’m losing my mind.

I want my life back. I want my family back. I want my reputation back.

Fuck Heidi. And fuck her lies.

“Hey,” Marcum wraps a hand around my shoulder. “He’s fine.” He chuckles. “In fact, he’s more than fine. He took down four of those little shits.”

I drag my hand across my face. “Brent and Stephanie must hate me. Their son just got suspended because of me.”

“Nah, they trust his judgment. They know he’s a smart kid.” He swings his large briefcase on his shoulder. “Now, introduce me to this top-tier legal team of yours.”

***

The same questions. Over and over. For six hours.

And it’s going to be this way for months. Who knows, maybe years.

“So, nothing inappropriate, ever?” Mr. Harrison, the high-priced lawyer asks again. “Accidental touching?”

“I told you the only time was when I gave her a ride home from the school parking lot. She hugged me. I backed away, gave distance.” I shrug, trying to think back over the past few months. “She may have hugged me after we won the State Championship, but I can’t remember. I hugged a thousand people that day and night.”

“And electronic contact? Phone calls, texts, emails?” Jacob, the junior associate, asks. He furiously scribbles notes and keeps glancing at his laptop. My table is covered in laptops and notepads and scattered with the transcripts of my supposed love history with Heidi.

I count to five in my head before I answer, trying to stave off some of my pissed-off tone. “Nothing. I have never texted or called Heidi. Ever. Merit did, but not me.”

“And just to confirm, you are saying,” he taps some of the papers, “these messages aren’t yours.”

Ella explained this is part of the process. They ask the same questions multiple times and compile all the different answers to get to the truth. Even a slight variation in an answer can give them something new. Something to follow, something to search.

“The messages aren’t mine. My fingers didn’t type those messages. My fingers did not call her phone number. I never, ever texted or called Heidi, despite what my phone records show. Despite what her phone records show.”

“So, your assertion is you’re being framed?” Mr. Harrison pushes his glasses on the bridge of his nose. It reminds me of Laura. And then it reminds me of Lieutenant Liz Archer with the ABI and how the world thinks I’m a sexual predator.

“That is one hundred percent what I’m saying.”

Jacob clicks around on his screen. “Well, as you know, you told us money was no object.” He lifts an eyebrow, waiting for me to nod. “We’ve already hired two different IT and metadata experts. They specialize in cell phone and cloud data. In fact, Ella has vetted them on a couple of our cases. At this point, their findings are preliminary, but they’re both coming to the same conclusion.”

When he doesn’t say anything, I swing my hands through the air. “And that is…”

“Nothing was hacked. Nothing was spoofed. The outgoing text messages physically came from your cellular device, and the incoming text messages physically came to your cellular device. Same thing with the phone calls. Your phone actually made those phone calls. Unless they find something new, there is no disputing that.”

“I can dispute it. Because I didn’t do it.” I sit back in the chair and drag my hands through my hair. Marcum pushes a fresh bottle of water in front of me.

Mr. Harrison clears his throat. “Let’s assume the data isn’t wrong. If the data is correct, and you’re saying you didn’t send the messages then there is only one reasonable explanation.” All heads swivel in his direction. “Someone gained access to your cell phone and used it, explicitly for the purpose of framing you for this charge.”

Yep. And that thought makes me sick to my stomach.

“You’ve got top-notch security,” he continues. “Cameras line the outside of your property. Do you have cameras inside your home as well?”

A couple of the paralegals look around, searching for mounted cameras on the ceiling.

I shake my head. “This is all new. And no, there aren’t any cameras on the inside.”

“What do you mean new?”

“The keypad gates, the fence around the entire property, the cameras, and of course, the security guards. All of that came after my…” I still hate saying the word arrest, so I just skip over it. “The only camera I had before was just a normal doorbell camera that I ordered off the Internet and hooked up to my smart devices. But it was only for the front door so I could see when deliveries were being made. The wrought iron fence was around a portion of the backyard, to keep the swimming pool closed off, you know, for insurance purposes. And each door had an alarm keypad for setting the system and for keyless entry, on both the exterior and interior of the door.”

“And the alarm keypads were connected to an actual alarm company?” Jacob asks.

I’m taking a drink of water so Ella answers for me. “Yes, we’ve used the same alarm company since I lived in the house. If the alarm goes off, they call requesting the private password. If they don’t get an answer, they send the police out.”

“But until recently, you didn’t have cameras at any of the other doors or windows, besides the front door?”

“That’s right.”

“And did you set the house alarm each night? When going to sleep?”

I nod yes.

“And who has the alarm code? The code for the door keypads, the keyless entry?”

“It’s the same code for both. And just my family has it,” I answer.

Jacob points at the notepad in front of me. “Can you make a list for us?”

“I’ll type up a list and email it out,” Ella says. “Holt can let me know if I’m missing anyone.”

I offer a small smile to my cousin. I’m pretty damn miserable with all of this questioning, but the fact remains, I don’t know what I would do without her. She’s really amazing at all this stuff.

“Well, in looking at the transcripts, every single text message and phone call occurs in the late-night hours and early morning hours. Basically, overnight, while the rest of the world is sleeping.” Mr. Harrison taps his ink pen on the table, thinking. “So, you’re proposing that someone bypassed the alarm, snuck into your house, creeped up to your bedroom, took your cell phone, sent text messages and made phone calls—some of which were an hour long—replaced the cell phone, left the house, and reset the alarm.” He leans forward in his chair. “And you’re suggesting that occurred nearly every single night for over three months?”

Jacob slaps his hands on the table, scoffing. “I think you would notice if someone kept coming into your bedroom during the dead of night and snatched your phone from the nightstand.”

“I don’t sleep with my phone in the bedroom.”

“Huh?” Jacob furrows his brow, and Mr. Harrison cocks his head.

“I never sleep with my phone in the bedroom. I always leave it on a table in the hallway. And I keep my bedroom door shut. I’ve done the same thing since I was a teenager.”

Mr. Harrison wiggles his head back and forth. “Okay. I guess that makes the scenario a little more plausible, but still… I just don’t see someone taking that amount of risk. I mean, we’re talking about dozens and dozens of breaking and entering, with an intruder being in your home for sometimes hours at a time. The likelihood of getting caught is just too great. Plus, I just don’t see how you could sleep through something like that.”

“I sleep like the dead. There’s not much that wakes me up.”

Jacob smacks his lips together, making a popping noise. “But what about your girlfriend?”

“What about her?”

“You said that she officially lives in the connected apartment, but that you both have shared a bedroom for the past couple of months, isn’t that correct?”

I glance around the table. “Yeah, so?” I don’t bother to elaborate that we’ve not shared a bed since I came home from jail. They know everything else about me, I’d like to keep the problems with my current sex life to myself. I’ve pretty much been a dick to Merit lately, and I don’t really feel like calling myself out.

Mr. Harrison picks up where Jacob left off. “Well, Holt, you sleep like the dead, but what about her?”

“She…” I pause, collecting my thoughts, “sleeps like a normal person.”

“And yet she never woke up and caught an intruder.”

He doesn’t ask it like a question, so I don’t answer him.

“Do the two of you always sleep in your bedroom in the master residence?”

“Most recently, yeah. In the beginning of our relationship, we went back and forth, between her bedroom and mine.” I have to clear my throat to get the words out. My mouth is starting to go dry, and an uncomfortable feeling settles low in my stomach.

“So, it’s reasonable to say that some of the communication with Heidi came on nights when you were sleeping in the connected apartment. Is that right?”

My throat clenches. I nod.

“And where did you keep your cell phone on those nights, Holt?”

My voice shakes. “A table outside of the Children’s Wing…I mean, apartment. In the hallway.”

“So, we’re making the astronomical assumption that the intruder would know which nights you slept in the apartment, and where to go looking for your cell phone, correct?”

Anger curls in my chest, and I feel like pummeling his face for even insinuating what I think he’s insinuating.

Marcum jumps in. “I think we may be delving into territory that we don’t need to be in. Implying that Merit may have something to do with this is outside the realm of possibility.”

Mr. Harrison scoffs. “And I thought my wife depleting one of our bank accounts to buy her boyfriend and his mom a luxury SUV and a Hawaiian vacation was outside the realm of possibility too. But it still happened.”

Jacob jumps in. “Is there an alarm keypad—some sort of lock—between the apartment and the rest of the house?”

He reads my face.

“So, she’s had free rein of your house since the day she moved in?”

“What you’re offering doesn’t make any sense,” Ella says. “Merit and Heidi met through Holt. Allegedly, Holt’s first phone call to Heidi was on the night her car broke down, after he dropped her at her house. Merit didn’t even know Heidi on that date.”

Jacob cocks an eyebrow. “Says who? Merit? Heidi? Heidi could’ve gone shopping in Merit’s store two years ago and none of us would know. I mean, she did hire Heidi as soon as Holt suggested it, right? If we are saying the text messages and phone calls are a frame job, then Heidi’s car breaking down is a hoax too. I mean, it’s a pretty elaborate plan. Whatever happened and whoever it happened with, I don’t see a seventeen-year-old-kid coming up with it by herself. If we take a step back and look at it objectively, it definitely looks like a long-con.”

My ears start to ring. It’s so damn loud I can’t even hear myself think.

Acid churns in my stomach, making me sick.

My heart pounds against my chest, making it hard to breathe.

I break out in a cold sweat.

My vision blurs, turning my periphery black.

My fingers go numb.

It feels like I’m fucking dying.

And still… they bombard me with question after question.

Exactly how long have you known Merit Browning?

Has she ever been in any financial trouble?

Wasn’t she previously married? To someone very wealthy?

You gave her full access to your house?

She sleeps beside you?

Does she have the code to your phone?

Have you been giving her any money?

Do you think she could’ve made the phone calls and text messages without you knowing? Without waking you?

Have you ever caught her wandering through the house at night?

She’s the only one with clear access to your phone every single night, all night long.

She’s the only one with access.

She’s the only one with access.

She did it.

She did it.

She did it.

For money. She wants your money. She wants it all.

I’ve never been someone whose life flashes before his eyes in moments of great danger or peril. Even when I jumped off that cliff after Anna… nothing. No major memories. No major epiphanies. I was simply living in the moment.

But now?

Now, every minute I’ve ever spent with Merit plays through my shattered and paralyzed mind. A broken video loop playing in a broken mind.

What stands out, like a bright shining spotlight, is seeing her with my cell phone in her hand. In the middle of the night. With no reasonable explanation. Even her lie didn’t sound convincing that night. “I heard a noise.”

Yeah, right.

Every word she’s ever spoken tumbles through my mind, like jumbled clothes in a washing machine.

“I mean, you’re like obscenely rich.”

“I’ve been thinking that maybe, just maybe, I could start looking for a part-time associate.”

“I wanna take everything from you. Every fucking thing.”

I jerk away from the table. My chair overturns, clattering loudly against the floor. I can’t even walk straight. Stumbling, I drag my limp body across the living room and lean against a tall side table.

The same table I fucked her on just yesterday.

I can’t believe she would do this to me. She was supposed to be different from all the others. I love her. She was supposed to love me. My soul is obliterated. I’ll never be the same again.

And then… I hear her sweet voice.

Or what used to be her sweet voice—up until five minutes ago.

“Hi.”

She’s standing on the opposite end of the room with a cardboard carrying-box of coffee in one hand and a huge bag filled with pastries in the other. Apparently, she went to the expensive coffee shop by her store. Why on earth would she do that? For some reason, just staring at the name of the coffee shop on that bag pisses me off.

Slowly my confusion and hesitation morph into bitterness and resentment.

When no one says anything, she takes a few tentative steps in our direction. “I thought, maybe, everyone could use a little break.” She lifts the bag. “I brought coffee and snacks.” Setting everything on the small section of the table we’re not using, she digs through the bag and pulls out a box. Opening it, she tries to show off the chocolate croissants inside. One falls out and splats against the floor. “Oops.” Afraid to put it back in the box with the others, she sits it on top of a coaster.

Normally, I’d find her hijinks cute.

But now? Now, it just seems like a lie.

“What are you doing here?” There’s no disguising the harshness in my voice.

Her eyes flicker around the room. “I…I thought you could use a break.”

“You’re supposed to be at work.”

She folds her hands in front of her and glances down. “I wanted to check on you.”

“You mean you wanted to spy on me,” I snap.

“Holt!” Ella warns, pinning me with her stare.

“Excuse me?” Merit’s whisper is shaky.

It fillets my cracked heart, wide open. I rub my sternum, wondering if I’m actually having a heart attack. “I can’t believe you would do this to me.”

She bites her bottom lip. “Do what?”

“Frame me.”

She jumps back, like I shot her. “What? What are you talking about?”

“You were the only one with access to my cell phone all those nights. And you know my passcode. You did it, didn’t you? You sent the text messages to Heidi. You made the phone calls.”

Her face pales to white and her vibrant hazel eyes die, the color fading to black. Her body trembles. She looks like she’s about to be sick.

She doesn’t even have the decency to answer.

I scoff, fighting the urge to destroy everything in my path. “Was it always about the money?”

“It… it was never about the money.”

Jacob takes out his cell phone and starts filming. I don’t even think Merit notices.

I drag my hand down my face, my fingers traveling the well-worn path of worry I’ve carved since my arrest. “I know about the three-thousand dollars.”

She holds her breath. “What?”

“You charged three-thousand on my credit card.”

She studies the ground and awkwardly shifts from one foot to the other. “I was gonna pay you back.”

“I trusted you. I let you in my life.” I take a step in her direction, but she backs away. And that makes me even angrier. “I paid off your loan. I gave you a place to live. Hell, I just added you to my bank account!”

“I didn’t ask for any of that,” she whimpers.

“No, you just put me in jail so you could enjoy it all.”

When she finally looks up, tears are streaming down her face.

A couple of months ago, I swore I would do anything to never see her cry. I guess a lot of shit can happen in just a couple of months.

“Why are you doing this?” she asks.

“Me?! You’re the one who did it.”

I nearly collapse when she answers. “You’re right. I did.”

A couple of people in the room gasp.

My words come out in a growl, pained and animalistic. “What? What are you saying?”

She takes a step in my direction, gaining the distance she lost. Lifting her chin in the air, she stares straight at me. Even through the cascade of silent tears flooding her eyes, I can see the hollow depths of her soul. The soul—just yesterday—I thought was beautiful and perfect and made by God’s hand just for me. “Whatever you think I did, I did it. The texts, the phone calls. Heidi and I did this together. You were never supposed to figure it out. I didn’t pin you as that smart of a man.” She sniffles, trying to gain control of her breaking voice. “What did you expect me to do, Holt? Edward left me high and dry, eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. I had a store to support, a farm to worry about. I did what I had to do. No, no, I take that back. I did what I wanted to do. Just like every other woman you’ve ever dated.”

I can’t even see straight. Purple and white spots dance behind my eyes, and I feel dizzy. I reach back, searching for something to hold to steady myself. “The money?”

Wiping her eyes, she shrugs. “Like I said, you’re obscenely rich.”

There are those words again.

Unable to control my rage, I grab the nearest thing—a remote control—and throw it across the unoccupied side of the room. It bounces off the wall, sending pieces everywhere. The batteries roll across the floor. From the corner of my eye, I see Nate watching us from the doorway. Shame and embarrassment immediately mix with my sadness.

Merit wipes her nose with her hand. “Funny thing is, I thought you could read my face? See the truth on it?”

I swallow. “So did I.”

Folding her hands back in front of her, she studies the floor. For a few minutes neither of us say anything. Eventually, she nods. Her whisper is barely audible. “Goodbye, sir.”

Turning on her heels, she walks away.

To be continued in…

The Believer’s Game: The Skeptic’s Duet Book Two

Available Now.