Sunshine Beach (21 page)

Bitsy nodded cheerfully. Nikki smiled her agreement. Maddie hummed with happiness.

“I have it on good authority that we're staying at the same hotel.” Will's lips brushed against Maddie's ear; a tickle and a promise.

Did leaving one hotel room for another on the same floor qualify as a walk of shame? Maddie asked herself this question the next morning when she opened the door of Will's suite to peek into the hallway. After determining the coast was clear, she stepped into the corridor. With her head down she walked as quickly and as quietly as possible, her eyes on her bare feet, the wrinkled white blouse untucked over the rumpled fuchsia skirt. The high heels dangled from her fingers.

She was almost halfway down the hall and to the bed she hadn't slept in when she heard the muffled sound of footsteps on thick carpeting. This was followed by a cheery “Mornin', Maddie.” Trying not to wince, she looked up to meet Will's drummer Dean Adams's eyes. “Is he up?”

“Um, yeah.” She swallowed and smiled as casually as she could.

“Have a good one.”

“Thanks.” Head down, she picked up her pace and practically ran into Aaron Mann coming out of his room. Her head jerked up.

“Morning, Maddie.” Aaron grinned. “Great night, wasn't it?”

“Yes. I thought the, um, concert was incredible.”

Aaron took in her clothing and her bare feet, but he made no comment. “Is he up? We're going to be leaving for Asheville a little earlier than planned.”

“Yes.” Praying that her cheeks were only hot and not telltale red, Maddie remembered just how “up” Will had been throughout the night and most of the morning.

“The plane will be ready to go anytime after one
P.M.
They'll drop you in St. Pete and then take Ms. Baynard on to Palm Beach.”

“Thank you,” Maddie said, forcing herself to meet his eye. She and Will were consenting adults. There was nothing to be embarrassed about.

“Thank you. I'd heard he could be difficult back in the day. Having you here sure has put him in a good mood.” He gave her a jaunty salute and headed for the suite she'd just left.

Right.
Clutching the heels to her chest, she continued down the hallway careful not to make eye contact with the maid pushing her cart in her direction. Or the room service waiter who tipped his head in acknowledgment. Apparently eight
A.M.
was hotel rush hour. Thank God she hadn't left in the hotel robe Will had suggested.

As quietly as possible she opened the suite door, tiptoed inside, and closed it behind her. Seeing the second bedroom's door closed, she began to relax.

“The outfit still looks great. Wrinkled but great.”

Maddie whirled at the sound of Nikki's voice. The blush was automatic.

“And I'm guessing from the look on your face and the fact that you didn't sleep in your bed that the lingerie was a success, too.”

“There may have been a compliment or two,” Maddie conceded. Not to mention a great eagerness to remove it. She focused on Nikki's face, which looked slightly pasty. Dark circles rimmed her eyes. “What are you doing up so early?”

“I think in order to ‘get up' you have to have gone to sleep. I just couldn't seem to settle down last night.” Nikki yawned and pushed her hair back off her forehead, which was creased with worry.

“Yeah. It was quite a day.” Maddie glanced toward the closed bedroom door. “I gather Bitsy's still asleep?”

“Yes, she put on her sleep mask and she was gone five minutes later. But before she passed out she told me that she had such a great time she wanted to pledge another fifty thousand dollars to
Do Over
.”

“That's incredible.”

“I know. I'm afraid to count on it until she wakes up and actually remembers what she said. She was under the influence.” Nikki's face brightened briefly. “She also informed me that if she weren't happily married and didn't like you so much she would have been all over Will.”

“I think she was all over Will,” Maddie said. Though she'd done it with such good humor it was impossible to take offense.

“True,” Nikki said. “Thank God Will was such a good sport.”

“I think he likes Bitsy as much as we do. She has a good heart. And she does know how to have fun.” Maddie looked down at her crumpled clothing. “I'm so glad you two talked me into dressing up for the concert.” She smiled and headed for the coffeemaker. “Do you want some coffee?”

“No. It doesn't seem to be agreeing with me.” She made a face. “My stomach's been a little temperamental.”

Maddie creamed and sugared her coffee, then sat next to Nikki. “So I can't help noticing you're already dressed. I've been wondering ever since you decided to come along what kind of ‘business' you could need to take care of here. This morning it occurred to me that business could be your brother. Did I get that part right?”

Nikki grimaced.

Maddie noticed that there was more than weariness in her friend's eyes. “What's going on?”

Nikki looked down at the hands that she'd clasped in her lap then up at Maddie. Her normal certainty seemed to have deserted her. “Joe told me a while ago that Malcolm wanted to see me.” She swallowed. “He asked if I'd visit him and see what I could find out. So much of the money Malcolm stole is still missing. I wanted to help. But, then I wussed out.”

“So why are you going now? What's changed?” Maddie asked.

“Malcolm's gotten ahold of a cell phone and he's been texting me directly. He wants me to come. He wants something from me.”

“But you don't have to go. And surely there's nothing he could do to you if you don't?”

“I don't know. Every time I've tried to convince myself he's a better person than he's demonstrated, he proves me wrong. Honestly, even thinking about him makes me feel sick to my stomach, but I think it's safer to find out what he wants face-to-face. And I guess I'm hoping that he'll let something slip, that he'll give me some idea of where to look for the rest of the money.”

“What did Joe say when you told him you'd decided to go after all?”

Nikki looked away. “I didn't tell Joe. I . . . I mean we're not really together so . . . if I find out anything that would be helpful I'll share it. But . . .” Her shrug was painful and un-Nikki-like. “I've got a rental car lined up. It's only about ten miles to the prison. I'll just meet you all at the airport.”

“No, you won't,” Maddie said.

Nikki met her eyes and Maddie saw the sheen of tears. “It's not like you can tell me what I can and can't do.”

“Why not?” Maddie countered. “You seem to feel free to tell me what I can and can't wear.”

“That's different,” Nikki said. “You were in serious need of an intervention. And I saw the effect that outfit had on Will.”

“You're right. I'm glad you and Bitsy made me listen. Glad and grateful.” Maddie looked at her friend, who seemed to have lost a big chunk of her usual confidence.

“Damn straight.” Nikki swiped at her eyes with the back of one hand.

“I'm not telling you you shouldn't go. I'm just telling you I'm coming with you.” She hauled herself to her feet. “Why don't you write a note for Bitsy while I shower and change?”

Nikki's hands shook on the steering wheel as they approached the Butner Federal Correctional Complex twenty minutes north of Durham. The complex consisted of four squat concrete buildings that sprawled across acres of grassy land. If you didn't look at the razor-wire fences and the way the sidewalks ended in locked gates, you might have been at a modern high school.

The similarities ended when they entered the building labeled
LSC1
and the journey into the prison itself began.

“Don't let him get to you,” Maddie said as Nikki left her in the lobby.

“Right,” Nikki replied, wishing she knew how to prevent it. Then she turned over her driver's license, had her picture taken, and followed a corrections officer through a series of steel doors. At a security station her shoes were checked for weapons, her left hand was stained with invisible ink that would show up on cell block scanners, and a drug-sniffing dog gave her the once-over. As she progressed farther into the prison, the concrete block walls seemed to get tighter and the hallways darker. The free world felt very far away.

The visitation room was an oblong about the size of a high
school lunchroom. One long side was made of glass and overlooked a courtyard where young children played on equipment. Groups of people sat at tables and chairs and in small seating areas. Attempts had been made to soften the space with greenery and bright paint and even several children's murals; a bookcase with games and books ran along one wall, but sound bounced off the hard surfaces and voices were raised in an attempt to be heard.

She felt Malcolm before she saw him. The first time her eyes skimmed right over him, moved on, then skittered back. He stood alone in a far corner midway between two chairs, which he'd clearly claimed, looking far fitter than he had the last time she'd seen him more than three years ago. His eyes were clear and focused; she could feel them fixed on her as she walked toward him. His blond hair had darkened. His shoulders in the khaki uniform appeared broader, his abdomen tighter. It seemed that prison had agreed with him.

“We're allowed to hug when you get here and when you leave,” he said when she reached him.

She made no move to touch him.

With a wry smile he motioned to the closest chair. She studied his face as he took the chair across from her, and she reminded herself how easily he'd stolen from her and then tried to use her. The number of lives he'd ruined. “What is it you want from me?”

“I'd forgotten how direct you can be.” He smiled as if this were an amusing trait.

“There's no use pretending, is there?” she asked. “Nothing you've done has indicated that you see me as anything more than another ‘mark.' Now tell me what you want so I can say no and be on my way.”

“I never meant for all this to happen, Nik,” he said.

“So you've said. But you don't really seem to give a damn about all the people whose lives you stole.”

“Well, I am serving my time,” he said reasonably. “I have a job in the library. And I've been advising some of the inmates about their finances.” His lips quirked up into the very smile that he'd always used to such good effect.

“Jesus.”

“Oh, don't worry. They don't have enough to bother with. Though there are a couple guys here I knew back in the day. I even met Bernie Madoff in the medical facility. Of course I'm small potatoes compared to him.”

“The man is a monster. He lost both his sons and his wife,” she said, appalled at the hero worship in his voice. “One of them committed suicide.”

Malcolm shrugged. Bile rose in her throat.

“How did you get a cell phone?” she asked.

He glanced over his shoulder but he was smiling when he replied, “I don't know what you're talking about. There are no cell phones allowed in prison.” He leaned forward in his chair, though he was careful not to touch her. “Do you remember when we lived in that apartment in Jacksonville and didn't even have a phone?”

She'd spent a lot of years trying to blot out the poverty they'd grown up in, the constant moves to worse and worse places. Her mother's struggle to clothe and feed them after their father's death.

“We were so close,” he said. “It used to be us against the world.” He plumbed her eyes with his. “Do you remember how hard we worked? How badly we wanted to build new lives?”

What she remembered was loving and cherishing him above all others and then discovering that she'd meant no more to him than any of his victims. “Of course I do. You were the most important person on earth to me,” she admitted. “I was so proud of your success.” His smile grew but as she looked back into his green eyes, the same shape and color
as her own, she saw the calculation in them. “Right up until the moment I discovered you weren't actually a financial advisor but a thief.”

“I told you that wasn't intentional. Things just got away from me. And then when things went soft and everyone wanted their money . . .”

“I'm not interested in excuses,” she said. “Are you still planning to write your autobiography?”

“Nah. It turns out I'd never be able to sell or profit from it.” He seemed to remember himself. “Not even to give the money to the victims.”

As if he ever would have. “You need to return the remaining money, Malcolm. Tell the feds where the rest of the accounts are.” She'd turned this over and over in her mind, how she might finally get him to do the right thing. “By the time you get out of here you're going to be way too old to enjoy any of that money. Give it up, Malcolm. Do it for our mother, who did everything to give you a better chance in life.” Her voice dropped. “And if not for her, for me.”

He gave her the same smile and shrug he'd offered when questioned about the cell phone. “I don't actually have access to any of the money. In fact that's why I asked you to come, Nik. I need to ask you a favor.”