The video started from the viewpoint of someone sitting on top of Cooper Stratton as he lay on a bed, outfitted in a tuxedo. He was laughing as he discussed precisely what the newscaster had said. My whole body tensed, fierce anger and stark disbelief clenching my gut as I listened to him discuss the way in which he'd casually ruined lives, first as a prosecutor and now as a judge. No wonder Frank Dallaire had been so willing to protect him when Kira had caught him with hookers. He'd been doing dirty work for him for years. And she hadn't had any clue. I swallowed, focusing back in on the video. The girl wearing the camera giggled and spurred him on, stroking his ego by telling him how much his power turned her on. When she leaned forward slightly to undo his bow tie, I caught a glimpse of the ends of her hair swinging forward. It was pink. I shook my head back and forth. It couldn't be. I squinted my eyes as the person wearing the video camera excused herself to use the restroom and then the grainy picture cut to her walking briskly through what looked like a black tie gala. There was laughter, chatter and dishes clattering in the background, and as I moved even closer to the television, I saw a guest in the background wearing a tux, and it was only in profile, but it looked suspiciously like Harley. And . . . holy fuck, I recognized someone else at that gala. She was just in profile as well, but I knew without a shadow of a doubt that it was my stepmother, Jessica Hawthorn. What the hell was going on?
"Charlotte!" I yelled, remembering suddenly she was at the hospital. "Holy fuck." José didn't answer his phone and so I rushed down to the vineyard where I quickly informed him I'd be back as soon as possible.
"Got it under control, boss," he called in return. I was already halfway out the door. I ran to the house and threw a few things in a bag and got in my truck, driving out through the gate. Jesus Christ. How had this happened? My mind was racing a million miles a minute. Kira. Kira was behind this. I wanted to shake her and then crush her to me and never let go. The little witch had cooked this up. I knew she had. Sweet little beautiful witch. She could have placed herself in danger. Was that why she’d been with Cooper here in Napa? I'd treated her so cruelly that day. She'd done this to help me, to help us, just as Harley and Priscilla had—I knew it in my gut and I trusted.
But I still needed answers. Questions pounded in my brain, one after the other. And I knew where I needed to go to get them.
As I drove, visions of Kira ran through my mind: turning to me in our bed, the morning light hitting her face as her sleepy, green eyes opened, her lips turning up in a soft smile as she reached for me. I saw her holding Sugie in her arms. "She needs love more than anything," she'd told Vanessa. "The only thing that will hurt her is holding it back." I squeezed my eyes shut momentarily, and an intense ache filled my chest. I saw her jumping down from that tree, standing on the tractor in a ballerina pose, sliding down the bannister, a look of unabashed joy on her face. And yes, she’d most definitely won that day. I saw her walking toward me in the maze reaching out her hand. That night, under the moonlight, she had saved me. And when it came time, I hadn't been strong enough to save her back. I let out a deep exhale, the visions flowing through my mind, through my heart. I pictured her kneeling in front of me on the floor of the wine cellar, a look of tenderness and love on her face. "If you let it, pain makes more space for love within you. And the love we carry inside makes us strong when nothing else can." Jesus. That's exactly what she'd done. She'd taken all those empty spaces inside her and filled them with love. And when the worst had happened, I had been too stupid, afraid, and filled with self-doubt to allow her to teach me how to do that, too.
I had fallen desperately in love with an enchanting little witch, a radiant girl with emerald eyes and a wild mane of hair as untamed as she. Kira, my fiery little wife with a spirit as bright as the sun, and a heart as tender as a newborn lamb. She owned my heart and my soul—I would be hers until I drew my final breath. And I was ready now. I was ready to surrender my all, every last bit, come what may. I just hoped I wasn't too late. Please don't let me be too late.
**********
The woman who answered the door was wearing a housekeeping uniform. She led me into the formal living room and told me she'd see if Jessica was available. I nodded grimly, choosing not to sit on the pristine white sofa.
A few minutes later, my stepmother came gliding into the room, as perfectly coiffed as I remembered her, every piece of dark blonde hair in place. "Grayson," she greeted, standing awkwardly by the door. After a short pause, she moved toward the bar on the far wall. "Would you like a cocktail? It's five o'clock somewhere, right? My, but corruption in politics is quite the talk of the town, isn't it?" There was the confirmation she'd been a part of whatever had happened with Cooper Stratton.
"You were there," I said, cutting right to the chase.
She poured herself a glass of wine, turned, and held it up to me in question. I shook my head. She swallowed one large sip before answering. "Yes, I was there. Who did you think paid the twenty-five-hundred-dollar-a-plate cost?"
I eyed her warily. "You paid for whom? Harley and Priscilla?"