Shattered Virtue by Magda Alexander Page A

boy had managed to kiss me. On the cheek. How strange. I’d blocked that out until now. “My friend invited three of her best friends to sleep over. We talked late into the night. It was the last happy thought I had in a while. The next morning, my grandfather showed up at the door. He’d aged ten years overnight. When he told me what happened, I fainted. For the next few days, I barely ate or slept, couldn’t deal with the funeral, with any of it. I insisted on seeing my mother, so they opened the casket. She’d been beaten so badly, I hardly recognized her. After the funeral, I escaped into my own world. Our family doctor recommended a program where I could stay until I healed. I didn’t leave there for an entire year. And the worst part was they kept Madison from me.”
    “Who’s Madison?” Charlie asks.
    “My sister. She was four at the time. I think Gramps was afraid to let her see me like that. I was almost catatonic.”
    “How old is she now?”
    “Sixteen. Just finished her junior year in high school. Wants to be a reporter.” A note of pride creeps into my voice, even though she’s a pain in the patootie most of the time.
    “Was she in the house when it happened?”
    “Yes. She slept through it all.”
    “How can that be?”
    “Our rooms were on the top floor on the other side.”
    “Was anyone else in the house?”
    “No. My father gave the night off to the staff, which consisted of our nanny, the butler, the cook, and the maids.”
    “Why?”
    “He did that every once in a while when he wanted private time with my mother. Madison and I usually spent those nights at my grandfather’s.”
    “But this night your sister remained in the house.”
    “Yes. Gramps had scheduled a business trip, so Maddy stayed.”
    “Did it happen often, the private time?”
    “About once a month or so. They loved each other, Mr. White.”
    “Charlie.”
    “Charlie. The day after their private time, I’d catch their secret glances. Whatever they did, they enjoyed it very much.”
    “Were the two handymen charged with the crime?”
    “Yes.” I rattle off the same story I told Steele.
    “So they got off because their Miranda rights were violated?”
    I toss back my head. “I know what you’re going to say, Charlie. They can’t be tried again. But what happened that night has haunted me for years.”
    The nice, friendly investigator morphs into an eagle-eyed detective as his gaze drills into me. “Ms. Berkeley, I’ve worked many murders, both as a cop and a PI. Things aren’t always what they appear to be. Are you ready for that?”
    For a second, I hesitate. “I need to know the truth no matter how much it hurts.”
    After another scrutiny, Charlie nods and closes his notebook. “Thank you, Ms. Berkeley. I know that was hard for you. I have enough for now.”
    “When can I expect something?” I ask.
    “In about a week.”
    I debate telling him about Madison discovering the newspaper photos, but decide against it. I did promise I wouldn’t tell anyone. And Charlie has his own resources, after all.
    Rising, I say, “Thank you, Charlie. I really appreciate you doing this. I’ll be glad to pay an advance for your expenses.”
    “No need, Miss. He’s got it covered.” He thumbs toward Steele.
    I dart a glance at Steele. Paying for the investigation into my parents’ murders is not his responsibility. “I thank you, but no.”
    Ignoring me, Trenton stands up. “Good-bye, Charlie, and thanks,” he says, whisking the investigator out the door.
    “Sure thing.”
    I wait until he closes the door before I object. “You can’t pay for this. It’s my investigation.”
    Thrusting his hands into his pockets, he glances at the floor for a couple of heartbeats. When his gaze finds me again, he says, “It will be expensive. Several thousand dollars’ worth.”
    “That much?” Gramps has always kept me on a tight leash. My school expenses were paid by him—tuition, books, dorm fees in college, and