At a loss, the judge shook her head, her mouth open but no words coming out.
“They’re trying to protect him, aren’t they?” Madison said with dawning horror. “They think you’d silence him if you could get to him.”
The judge’s eyes burned into Madison’s.
“I wouldn’t hurt anyone, and certainly not your brother. You have to believe that. I want justice for him as much as you do.”
Despite everything, she did believe her. And yet—
“If that’s true, why are you mixed up with the people who framed him?”
“I hate them. They put me in this position. They forced me.”
“Then why not turn them in?”
“It wouldn’t work. They’d kill me first.”
Judge Conroy’s eyes glittered with unshed tears. As her words hit home, Madison fully grasped an idea that had been forming in her mind these past days. Wallace, Logue, whoever else they worked with—they were probably the ones behind the murder of the judge’s husband. If that was true, it put everything in a different light. Then Kathryn Conroy was indeed a victim, and yet the stakes were higher than she’d imagined, because the enemy was that much more dangerous.
“I want to help you. I really do,” Madison said. “The risk just feels too great.”
“Too great for the reward I’m offering. I understand. You’re not willing to do it to save your career. But would you do it to save your brother?”
“You said you don’t know where he is.”
“I don’t. But I can sign an order vacating his guilty plea and dismissing the charges against him. Then it won’t matter where they’re hiding him. With no pending charges, they’d have to let him go.”
“Won’t the authorities stop you from doing that?”
“I don’t see how they could. I may be under investigation, but I’m still a judge in good standing with full powers. I’ll make you a promise. I’ll sign that order first thing tomorrow morning, as soon as I get to chambers. Family is everything, Madison. I think you and I agree about that. You’d be taking a risk, but your brother would be safe. Now, is it worth it to you? What do you say?”
As she considered Judge Conroy’s offer, the face that flashed before her eyes was not Danny’s, but Mom’s, hollow-eyed and wan in the ER yesterday. After her father’s death, her mother had had a breakdown. With the stress of Danny’s disappearance, the symptoms were recurring. The consequences of turning down Judge Conroy’s offer went beyond Danny. She feared that her mother would not survive her brother’s death.
The calculus was clear. Jail for herself was nothing compared with the lives of her family.
“You’ve got a deal,” she said.
22
The Museum of Fine Arts was free with a student ID, and Madison had spent many a rainy afternoon in high school and college wandering its galleries or studying in the café while nursing an overpriced coffee. Given her workload in law school, it had been a minute since she visited. Under other circumstances, she would be thrilled to be back.
Not tonight.
She walked into the atrium with a belly full of dread. If not for the spiky, forty-foot-high tree sculpted from lime-green glass, she wouldn’t have recognized the place. Dramatic swooshes of colored silk draped from the soaring ceiling, making it look like the inside of a circus tent. Potted palms, lavishly decorated tables with tall floral centerpieces, a bandstand, and a thousand twinkling lights completed the décor. More important, it was jammed with hundreds of strangers who—no surprise for a bunch of successful lawyers—looked a lot alike. More men than women. All decades older than her. Clad in tuxedoes or, like Madison, slinky pantsuits and dresses. Finding her two targets in this crowd would require seeking them out aggressively, which could draw attention to herself. People might remember later, if asked by investigators.
Uniformed staff were passing hors d’oeuvres and champagne. Grabbing a glass, she drank it down, hoping the fizz would steady her nerves. It didn’t. There was no point in stalling. This wouldn’t get easier. If she wanted to save her brother, she needed to jump in the deep end and pray she floated.
A waiter carrying a tray of lobster in puff pastry approached and handed her a cocktail napkin. Taking a canapé, she made a snap decision about which target to start with.
“Thank you. Can you point me to the Bixby, Kessler, and Moore table?”
“Tables seventeen and eighteen, right under the Chihuly.”
She pressed onward toward the glass tree, savoring the rich lobster and flaky pastry, admiring the beautiful clothes, noting the famous faces. A TV news anchor, a U.S. senator, the mayor of Boston. This could be her world, so long as what she did here tonight didn’t destroy her.
She recognized Douglas Kessler from twenty yards away, despite having seen him only once before at a law school event where he received an award. The managing partner of the law firm she’d be clerking at next summer, and Chloe’s father to boot, he had that master-of-the-universe look. Silver-haired, unnaturally tan for the season, wearing a perfectly tailored tuxedo, with the sharp profile and hawk-like gaze of a powerhouse of the bar. He was holding court, surrounded by a gaggle of fans. She moved closer. It would be difficult to get a word with him at all, let alone privately. A managing partner didn’t normally speak to lowly summer associates, even if they happened to be classmates of his daughter. But in a stroke of luck, it turned out he was discussing a case he’d argued before the Supreme Court years before that she knew by heart because it was taught in her Securities Regulation class. She waited for an opening and then asked a pertinent question, making a show of listening raptly to the answer. Kessler looked her up and down as he spoke. When he finished pontificating, he asked her name.
“Madison Rivera. Pleased to meet you, sir. I’ll be a summer associate at Bixby starting in June.”
She held out her hand. He took it, drawing her aside and looking into her eyes in a way that made her wonder if he followed the firm’s anti-fraternization policy. She should’ve known he’d be a hound.
“Very pleased to meet you. I see our recruiting team hasn’t lost its touch. That was a very astute question you just posed. You’re interested in securities litigation, I take it?”
“Very much so. I’m taking Securities Reg right now at HLS. Your daughter Chloe is in my class.”
He dropped her hand like it was radioactive.
“A Harvard woman. Glad to hear it. At Bixby, we like our lawyers bright and ambitious. Good luck this summer.”
She’d lost his attention with that comment. He was looking over her shoulder for someone else to talk to.
“Sir—”
“Pleasure to meet you, Madeline,” he said, moving away.
“Judge Conroy sends her regards.”
His eyes flicked back to her warily. “Oh? How do you know her?”
“I’m taking her class and also interning in her chambers this semester.”
“Very nice. Now if you’ll excuse me—”
“She asked me to give you a message.”
He frowned. “A message? Isn’t she here tonight?”
“I believe so.”
“Then why not tell me herself?”
“I don’t know. I’m just the intern. She said it was important.”
“All right, let’s hear it, then.”
She took a breath, knowing that she was about to cross a line. But she had to do it, for her family.
“The judge asked me to convey that people in high places are interested in your work on the Fiamma case. And that’s making some other people very nervous.”
He went white, his mouth falling open.
God, this was worse than she imagined. Without knowing the specifics, Madison had recognized the message as a warning of some kind. Seeing Kessler this terrified, she realized—he was a co-conspirator. And she’d just tipped him off that he was under investigation.
That was obstruction of justice.
Madison had just committed a crime. And there was no turning back.