"Yes," Macy says... actually giving a small smile in return. "It was beautiful."
"How about in Prague? Did your family go sightseeing there?"
"Yes, we walked around the city mostly, looking at the architecture. My dad worked a lot on these trips, so it was mostly my mom and me going out shopping."
"What did you do in Berlin? I've heard that's an amazing city," Dee asks, and in one moment of clarity, I know exactly what she's doing.
"We saw the Berlin Wall, the Brandenberg Gate, the Reichstag building," Macy prattles on about her German vacation. I want to reach out and put my hand over her mouth, but it's too late.
"And what about Brussels, Macy?" Dee asks sweetly. "Tell me all the things your family did while on vacation in Brussels."
Macy's face pales, and she realizes that Dee led her down a very carefully constructed path. She stammers, "Well... we didn't get to really do much because my dad was working."
"But you said your mom and you would go out on your own in those other cities," Dee supplies helpfully. "Surely, you went out and saw all the sights in Brussels?"
"Not really," Macy whispers.
"How long were you in Brussels?" Dee asks crisply, again changing routes slightly.
"Three days I believe," Macy says meekly.
"Yet, you spent a few weeks in all those other places, didn't you? At least, that's what the flight records show."
"I don't know," Macy says with her face lowering... unable to hold up to Dee's scrutiny. "I'm not sure."
"What was the purpose of the trip to Brussels?" Dee asks gently, and it's clear by the tone of her voice she doesn't believe for a fucking second it was a vacation, yet she's still speaking in a very polite and gentle tone with Macy.
She's doing that because she believes she needs Macy and doesn't want to alienate her.
Macy lifts her head and turns it to me. Her eyes are pleading with me to step in and do something.
Leaning forward, I insert myself into the conversation. "Dee... I hardly understand why a vacation a fifteen-year-old child took with her family is important to you."
Dee doesn't even spare me a glance. She knows she has Macy on the run.
"Macy," Dee says, and I can tell she's switching gears again. "Do you know a man by the name of Emiel Coppens?"
I didn't think such a thing could ever be possible, but I watch as it looks like every bit of life, beauty, and vigor gets sucked right out of Macy's body. Her skin actually turns gray, her eyes dull, and she seems to physically shrivel in on herself.
My hand involuntarily reaches out... to her shoulder, and I can even feel the iciness of her skin through her silk blouse as I grip her.
Macy's mouth opens but a tiny, mewling sound comes out.
"Miss Carrington," Dee presses her. "I take it you know Emiel Coppens?"
I become alarmed when Macy's eyes roll backward, her eyelids fluttering as if she's fighting to stay conscious, but they just as quickly open wide and pin me with a look so filled with misery and despair, I want to weep.
"I have to go," Macy moans as she shoots up from her chair and starts rounding the table, dislodging my hand with her own.
"I'm not finished with my questions," the prosecutor says.
I'm already up and out of my chair, giving Dee a pinned look. "We're fucking done."
"You know I'm not, Mr. Carson," she says with meaning. "She knows something--"
I lean over her and snarl. "We're fucking done. Don't come near her again unless you have a warrant."
Shooting out the door, I look left down the hallway, and then right, just getting a brief glimpse of Macy slipping into the women's restroom. I sprint after her, pushing the door open hard, and causing one of the paralegals standing at the sink to shriek in surprise.
"Get out," I growl as I hold her eyes in the mirror. She scrambles and is gone.
Then the air is filled with the sounds of violent retching, bouncing off the tiled floors and walls. I walk with almost-leaden feet to the stall at the end. The door is open and as I get closer, I see Macy bent over the toilet, heaving and heaving and heaving, producing nothing but the expulsion of pain and sickness. She holds her hair in one hand, the other shakily grasping the toilet paper holder.
She retches again, then sobs loudly, and my heart just fucking cracks right in half. I've never felt such heartbreak in my life, and I now understand that there is real and true pain with it. I feel absolutely helpless because I don't know what she needs. I don't know how to make her feel safe or soothe her nightmares, and it's hard for me to fight a dragon I can't see.
I squat down behind Macy, pull her hair gently from her grasp, and hold it for her. Her dry heaves turn to more sobs, until I finally just pull her up from the toilet and turn her into my chest. I hold her cheek against my heart, letting her tears soak into my shirt. Stroking her hair, I press soft kisses to her temple.
Eventually, she quiets... goes still, takes in a quavering breath, and then lets it out slowly.
"Come on," I say quietly as I pull back from her. Turning her toward the door, I put an arm around her shoulder. "I'm going to take you home. You need to get some rest."
"I don't want to go to my apartment," she says, almost in a panicked voice. "My dad... he will--"
"Shh," I quiet her down. "I'll take you somewhere else then."
She nods, her own arm coming around my waist and clutching at me hard.
We exit out of the bathroom, turn the corner, and run smack into Dee Switzer. She doesn't look pleased with herself, and she's not gloating. In fact, she almost looks sorry as she takes in Macy's red eyes and the way she holds on to me. If she had any question as to what our relationship was outside of the legal bounds, she has it now.
"I said we're done," I tell Dee, keeping my voice calm, but also not giving her an inch with which to maneuver.
"I know," she says softly as her hand slides into the side of her briefcase-satchel that's slung over one shoulder. She pulls out a paper folded into thirds and hands it to me. "I'm sorry, but I have to serve this."
My gut clenches as I take the paper and briefly release Macy so I can look at it. My eyes scan the document, but I see the only two words I need to see.
Forfeiture Order.
"What is it?" Macy whispers.
I don't answer, just put my arm back around her and lead her away from Dee Switzer. "We'll talk about it when I get you settled," I tell her.
"It's not an arrest warrant, is it?" she asks fearfully.
"No," I immediately assure her. "They can't arrest you just for refusing to cooperate."
"But it's bad?" she guesses as my strides lengthen.
"It's bad," I tell her softly.
"Mr. Carson," Dee Switzer calls from behind me. I almost ignore her, but something in the tone of her voice gives me pause.
I halt my progress and look over my shoulder at her.
"I can make that go away," she says as her eyes flick down to the paper in my hand. "If she just tells me everything she knows."
Chapter 9
We're headed back to Warwick--to my parents'--and Macy didn't even argue. Before we left my office, I had made a command decision. Gathering work up, I put it in my briefcase. I took Macy to her apartment and told her to pack up enough clothes for a few days. She did this all in a quiet state, which I'm guessing is mostly shock and probably exhaustion. We then went to my place, I sat her down on my couch with a glass of wine, telling her I was going to get packed and we were going to go hang out at my parents for a
few days.
She just nodded acceptance and took a dainty sip of Cab.
She never argued with me once, completely putting herself in my hands to care for. That fucking touched me deep, but I also realize she may be so overwhelmed she would have given herself over to the hot dog vendor down the street if the circumstances were right.
I have no clue what the fuck happened this afternoon at my office. I don't know a fucking thing about this Emiel Coppens or what the government wants from Macy. I can't fathom why a fifteen-year-old could be important to this investigation.
But what I do know is that Macy was seriously disturbed when that man's name was mentioned. She was terrified and sickened... and I'm not going to lie... my imagination ran wild and I was, in turn, terrified and sickened.
I'm so fucking lost over what to do for her, and she gives me no indication as to how I can help.
Because she's been largely silent up until now, I've had almost too much time to think. To ponder. To play every potential scenario in my head, and yet I can't come up with a thing. I know the minute I get Macy to sleep tonight, I'll be Googling Emiel Coppens.
But I have to put that aside for now. There's something more pressing we need to discuss.
"That paper the prosecutor handed me," I start the conversation. Macy turns in the seat to look at me, and I try to give her a confident smile. I know it fails. "It was a forfeiture order for you."
"What's that?" she asks, her voice merely puzzled rather than panicked as I know it should be.
"I read it in more detail when you were packing," I say quietly. "It's an order by the government confiscating everything Quarter Mine and your parents and uncle own. That includes your apartment, as well as your trust fund."
I expect Macy to bellow with outrage, but I think she's too far gone into shock to do that.
"How can they take my apartment? I own that. And my trust fund? That's solely in my name," she asks with bewilderment.
"Part of the government's case includes claims that your dad and his conspirators defrauded investors, and because of that fraud, they gained immense wealth. The government is immediately allowed to seize anything--monies or properties--they reasonably believe were ill gotten, so that restitution can be made down the road if they get successful convictions. The order claimed your trust is funded completely from profits your father made from Quarter Mine. Apparently, your apartment was deeded over to you from your father, and same theory... that was made possible with Quarter Mine profits."