“Do you know what this is going to do to the family?”
“You always said that Reveres are survivors with class. Grandad Sterling had nothing when he built his company, which he lost, and then he built another one. And Grandma and Grandpa Revere were among the wealthiest families on the East Coast and then lost everything in the Great Depression and had to start over with nothing. And Grandfather’s brother, Timothy?”
Eleanor tightened her lips. “We don’t speak of him, God rest his soul.”
“But we survived. And we survived my mother leaving me here when you certainly didn’t need to raise another child.”
“Maxine—I’m glad she did. The way she was living, it was no life for my granddaughter.”
Maybe, but that wasn’t a point she was going to argue. Not now. “Whatever happens with William, the one thing you taught me is that you stick by family. If what Andy says is true, William needs to be punished—but not disowned. I love him, you know that.”
“I know,” she said quietly. “Which makes this all the more difficult to understand why you would do this.”
“Do what? Find answers? Give Mr. and Mrs. Ames peace of mind?”
“Will they have peace? Lindy will still be dead.”
Maybe she’d never get through to her grandmother. How Eleanor thought this way, Max didn’t understand. Max understood loyalty, but not to the point of letting a killer walk free.
There was a pounding on the door that made Eleanor jump. Max said, “I’ll get it.” She walked across the foyer and looked through the side window.
Detective Harry Beck, with two uniformed officers.
She opened the door. “Detective.”
“I thought you might be here, running to your well-to-do family.”
“I don’t run,” she said.
Eleanor rose from her seat and walked over. “Grandmother,” she said, “this is Detective Beck with the Menlo Park Police Department. Detective, my grandmother, Eleanor Sterling Revere.”
“Ma’am,” Beck said with a nod, then told Max, “Maxine Revere, you’re under arrest for obstruction of justice, and a few other things I’ll think of once we have a chat.”
“Absolutely not,” Eleanor said, stepping forward. “You’re not putting my granddaughter in jail.”
“Yes, ma’am, I am.”
“I’ll post your bail immediately, Maxine.”
“Not until her arraignment tomorrow morning,” Beck said. “It’s after five. She’ll be spending the night in lockup. Should be fun, with the drunks and whores.”
Eleanor paled.
Maxine stared at the detective. “That’s my grandmother you’re speaking to.”
Eleanor put her hand on Max’s arm. “I’ve heard worse, dear. I’ll call a lawyer. I can’t bear the thought of you being in prison.”
Eleanor was sincerely worried about Max. Her grandmother was never one to show affection. A light kiss on the cheek in greeting, but no hugs, no spontaneous laughter or affection. But in this one moment, Max saw everything that Eleanor was. A matriarch. A grandmother. A survivor. Fear, love, and honor shone in her eyes.
Max kissed her grandmother on the cheek and put her hands on her shoulders. “Thank you.” An odd response, perhaps, but Eleanor understood. She nodded and closed her eyes. Took a deep breath. And when she opened them again, the fighting Eleanor was back. “Call my producer Ben,” Max said. “He’ll contact my lawyer.”
No matter what happened, they would survive.
*
Max returned to her cell after her phone call with Gia Barone, her attorney. Gia specialized in working with reporters and had gotten Max out of jail in the past.
“The case is nothing,” Gia had said, “but the timing sucks. Arresting you after five. That’s just fucked. I’ve got a lawyer to come in for your arraignment if you need it, but I’ll get the charges dropped before then. I know a guy who plays golf with the DA and he’s telling him the case is fucked.”
She loved Gia, the plain speaker.
“So,” Max said, “what you’re really telling me is that I’m spending the night in jail.”
“In a word, yes. But I’ll make their life hell.”
“I appreciate that.”
Max laid down on the cot. She wasn’t in a group cell, she was alone. She assumed Gia had arranged that. Max could hold her own with the “drunks and whores” as Beck had said, but it would make for a long night. At least now she might be able to sleep. If this cot wasn’t so damn uncomfortable.
She sat up and her back cracked. She was too tall for the bed, but she was too tired to pace. She had no phone, no computer, no book, not even paper and a pen.
She didn’t know what was going on with Andy, or William, or her grandmother. She hadn’t spoken to Nick since the airport. Was Andy already out on bail?
She had a long night to think about her life. Her career, her family, her judgment.
She must have dozed off at some point because she heard her name and she slowly struggled to sit up. She rubbed her eyes and smiled when she saw Nick.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he said.
“I’ve been in worse.” She glanced around. “And better.”
“Contempt of court?”
She sat up and stretched. “A couple of times. Once in Mexico. That was definitely worse than this.”
“And you got out.”
“It was a long time ago. Long before I had the show. I was a lot more reckless back then.”
“More reckless?”
She smiled but didn’t say anything. That week had been hell, and she never wanted to repeat it.
“Your producer is a pit bull.”
“I can handle Ben.”
“He knows you’re in jail.”
“I’m sure my attorney called him, since Gia is retained by the show and not me personally.”
“She’s good. You’ll be out in the morning.”
“Gia’s the best. Do not tell me that Ben is on his way here.”
“No, but I realized when he called me multiple times that he doesn’t know what you’re doing.”
“I told him it’s personal.”