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That time will come.
“We should go shopping tomorrow,” Fallon says. “I’d love a fun dress for this.”
“Same,” Layla agrees. “And not that I’m inviting myself to be, because I realize we don’t know each other all that well yet, and while I’d be honored to be a bridesmaid, please do not make us all wear the same thing.”
I laugh. “What? You don’t all want to wear pastel pink?”
“No,” all the women say at once.
“Wear whatever you want, and obviously you’re all my bridesmaids because that’s how this works. I bought a dress when we were in Vegas. It’s the one I got married in there, but it’s up in Maine.”
“Pfsht.” Aurelia waves that away. “That dress doesn’t count, and you definitely can’t re-wear it for this. Talk about bad luck. We’ll all go to my studio tomorrow, and I’ll get you set up in a gorgeous gown.”
“A gown?” I scrunch my nose. “You don’t think that’s a bit too much for this, for just us, for just here?”
“No,” all the women cry once again in unison making us all crack up.
“Fine. I’ll wear a gown. With a lot of sparkly crystals on it, because that’s what I want.” I twist on Lenox’s lap so I can see his face. “You can’t wear a tux.”
His eyes glitter. “No?”
I shake my head. “No. Definitely not. You’re not a tux guy.”
“What should I wear then?”
I press my lips to his. “Surprise me.”
Just then a notification sounds on Lenox’s phone, and he shifts me around on his lap so he can dig into his pocket to pull it out. His eyebrows bounce, and a grin curls up the corner of his lips.
“What?” I ask. “What is it?”
“It seems the LAPD are moving fast for once.” He flips his phone around so I can read his screen.
“What is that?” I ask because it’s sort of difficult to tell.
“That’s the inside of the LAPD’s computer systems. They have a warrant for Alfie and Ezra Earnheart on charges of conspiracy to commit murder and aiding and abetting murder. Once the FBI gets wind that they’ve been arrested for this, it’ll all come together.”
“And you, Georgia, will be thrust back into the media spotlight,” Callan says.
“Yes,” Lenox agrees. “Only this time, she won’t be in it alone.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Let it never be said that my husband isn’t a freaking genius. The LAPD detective that Lenox anonymously leaked the texts between Alfie and Ezra to is the same detective who originally told Alfie that my father’s plane was missing. The detective noted in his report that Alfie’s reaction was suspicious and that further investigation was warranted.
Evidently, Alfie wasn’t shocked or sad or scared that my father’s plane had gone missing. He wasn’t despondent the way my mother and I were.
He was angry.
Most likely angry because it fucked up his timetable by happening sooner than he wanted, but angry all the same. After pieces of my father’s plane were discovered, Alfie was questioned—we all were—by the FBI, and that notation in a random file by the LAPD was overlooked or forgotten or possibly never seen. At that time, Alfie was appropriately devastated, and nothing else came of any of it.
But when these new files landed in the detective’s inbox, he remembered Alfie, he remembered his notation, and he was quick to act on the information that was presented to him. He also got in touch with the FBI, and things quickly snowballed from there—clearly everyone wanted this done before the holiday tomorrow.
Alfie was officially arrested by a joint task force early this afternoon at his home. He tried to make a run for it but was quickly apprehended and every device in his home was confiscated. Lenox pulled himself completely out of Alfie’s and Ezra’s systems, and there will be no trace that he was ever in them. Alfie is sitting on suicide watch in a federal jail cell awaiting arraignment, which we’re told with the holiday might not happen until Friday at the earliest.
Thankfully, they didn’t arrest him in the office, but I’ve been on the phone with the board, playing shocked and heartbroken while working with them as we prepare a statement that our PR people will release at eight this evening.
It's a mess.
