Fidelity (Infidelity #5)

He deserved an Academy Award for the performance he was giving. It was heart-wrenching and sincere—and it was total bullshit. However, years of addressing a jury had served his acting skills well.

We’d talked about this with Nox and Deloris. The fire was burning hotter under Alton’s world. Since he didn’t know that we knew about the codicil, we’d expected a power play. Was this meeting it?

“Ralph, I really need to get back to New York. Despite all of this, I’m still a student. The semester will end soon. Once it does, I’ll have more time.”

He reached out for my hand. “I remember you as a little girl. Always so inquisitive and so intelligent. You’ll make a wonderful attorney. Perhaps there’s a future for you at Hamilton and Porter?”

As if that should be enticing. I pulled my hand away. “Goodbye, Ralph.”

“I can’t make you stay, but we can make her,” he said, nodding his head toward Chelsea.

“What?”

“You’ve testified. You’ve given information under oath, Miss Moore. Bryce is going to need you to continue to corroborate his story. Perhaps,” his voice slowed, “you were with him on Saturday? I believe you two have an agreement.”

“Mr. Porter,” Mr. Owen said, “Miss Moore is now my client. She is free to travel until she receives orders from the court saying otherwise. I hope you’re not suggesting that you have the authority…”

Ralph’s hand went in the air. “I only need a signature.”

“Make sure it’s legal,” I said.

“You’re correct,” Ralph nodded toward us. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. Miss Moore, please come to my office tomorrow and I’m sure we can get a statement. I’m sure we can come to an agreement that will allow you to leave Savannah until the time is necessary for you to return to testify.”

She looked to Mr. Owen.

“You are under no obligation to cooperate,” our attorney said. “However, the court can insist on your return.”

“What kind of statement?” Chelsea asked.

“The truth,” Ralph said. “Just as you’ve done in the past, just as you did in Evanston. Just as your agreement articulates.”





RETURNING TO HAMILTON and Porter required another night and day in Savannah. I didn’t want to be there, but at least it allowed me a chance to speak with Jane. She met me at Leopold’s, just the two of us—and Clayton. Slipping under the radar—me in a baseball cap, wearing jeans and a vintage Bill Elliott t-shirt—we met at a table near the back.

With my bodyguard at the table to my side, I nibbled on a bowl of chocolate raspberry swirl and scanned the crowd. It didn’t take long until I saw her, working her way through the tables to me.

Her big brown eyes glistened as we hugged and she sat across the table. At her place setting I had a bowl of lemon custard. It was the flavor she always ordered when I was young.

She shook her head. “Child, you remembered?”

“Of course I did!”

“I’m so glad you got a message to me.”

“Yeah, Aunt Gwen has been more of a help than I ever imagined.”

She nodded toward my shirt. “He was your daddy’s favorite.”

“Awesome Bill from Dawsonville,” I said with a grin. “I really don’t know anything else about him, but I saw the shirt in a shop and decided I needed to have it.” I shrugged. “I remember your telling me that he was my dad’s favorite NASCAR driver.”

“You safe? Your momma, she’s safe?”

I nodded.

“Oh praise Jesus.” Tears spilled onto her round cheeks as I reached across the table. “Child, I prayed all night and day. It was a mess here.” She shook her head. “I just kept thinking, what would Miss Adelaide say about this spectacle? Oh, Lordy, what would Miss Olivia say?”

I squeezed her hand. “Momma wants to see you, but we think we need to wait.”

“Wait?”

“She needs to get stronger before she faces… him.”

Jane nodded then leaned across the table. “He didn’t do it, Mr. Spencer.” She looked up from the custard. “Did he?”

I lifted one shoulder. “I don’t know. I was with you most of the day.”

“He wasn’t happy when he called you. I heard his voice. Not his words,” she clarified, “but his tone. He was mad.” She took a bite. “I wasn’t trying to listen. That room, it was small.”

“It was, and he was.”

“But not mad enough to do that?”

“Jane, I don’t know. I really don’t. If the police question you, please be honest. It’s all we can do. If he’s not guilty, then honesty is his best defense. If he is guilty, Melissa deserves our honesty.”

“I can’t. I can’t say nothing about what I see. It’s part of my job. It always has been.”

“I think,” I said, keeping my voice low, “they can still call you. I think they can still question you.”