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“It’s not just about the accident, Mom. That’s the thing,” Alexa said.
“What do you mean?”
She hadn’t gone into detail with her parents about the other crimes associated with Leland Walker. They’d made it clear they thought it was mistake to dredge up the past, especially where it concerned a powerful family like the Walkers.
Plus, Alexa couldn’t ignore the reality of the allegations against the Walkers. She’d been a prosecutor.She knew better than anyone that it didn’t matter to the jury what was true. It only mattered what could be proven, and leveling accusations like the ones she was leveling against a U.S. Senator— leaving the scene of multiple crimes, more than one charge of vehicular manslaughter, an assault claim that had mysteriously disappeared after a payout to the alleged victim that couldn’t be traced to the Walkers — only made Alexa sound crazy, especially because it coincided with her relationship with Nick.
But she owed her parents an explanation for her out-of-character behavior. If Alexa’s need to make Leland pay for what he’d done to her and Samantha wasn’t enough, maybe his other crimes would be.
“Lex?”
“It wasn’t just me and Samantha, Mom. Leland Walker has a history of hurting people, and his father has a history of paying people off to make sure Leland stays clean.” Her mother sighed and Alexa hurried to continue. “I know it sounds crazy, but I’ve seen the evidence. Leland has problems — substance abuse problems and anger management issues. He was arrested on an assault that later disappeared, and he killed a woman who was out walking her baby in a stroller.”
“Assuming this is all true, what does it have to do with Spain? With Nick Murphy?” her mom asked.
Alexa tried to think of a way to explain Matis Juska, his ties to the Walker family, Nick’s desperation to find a way into the Walkers’ private world, a way to bring that world crashing down once and for all.
She couldn’t. She’d kept too much from her parents in the name of protecting them, both from worry and from danger. She couldn’t catch them up on everything now.
“It’s… it’s a long story,” Alexa said.
Her mother’s skepticism came through loud and clear in the ensuing silence. “If all of this is true, take the evidence to the police. It’s not for you — or Nick Murphy — to take on the issue of Leland Walker and his alleged crimes.”
Alexa leaned against the window, letting the heat from the sun warm her back as she closed her eyes. She considered telling her mom about Karen LaGarde’s murder, but that would only make her parents worry more.
“It’s not that simple,” Alexa said. “The Walkers are powerful. BPD — some of them anyway — are compromised. That’s kind of the point, the entire reason Leland has been able to get away witheverything so far. We have a lead, something that might help us get enough evidence to take to the police.”
“I’m not saying I don’t believe you, Alexa, but if what you say is true, it’s all the more reason you shouldn’t be digging into the Walkers. If they’re dangerous, you should take what you have to the police.”
Alexa turned her face back to the window. The beach curved below the hotel, its shore dotted with a multitude of colorful umbrellas. Farther inland, cars and buses moved over roads that were well maintained and efficient, the city an ancient jewel at the very edge of Spain.
She tried to think of a way to tell her mom about MIS, about Nick and his brothers and their mission to see justice served when every other method had failed, a way that wouldn’t make her see Nick the way the rest of the world would see him if the truth got out.
No, not the rest of the world. She didn’t believe that. There were others out there, others like her, people fed up with the bad guys winning, tired of seeing people go to jail for things like drug addiction, things that required help instead of punishment, while people like the Walkers — people withmoney and power — got away with as much as they could afford to pay to keep quiet.
Her parents weren’t those people. They believed in rules, in following those rules even when it didn’t seem fair. If she told them the truth about Nick, they would never see him as anything more than a criminal, a murderer. She didn’t know where that left them in the future, but there it was.
“I understand why you’re worried,“ Alexa said. “But I promise you I’m safe. Nick knows what he’s doing and so do I. I’ll be home in a couple days. Try not to worry. I love you. Tell Dad I love him too.”
She disconnected the call and paced the suite’s living room, trying not to imagine her mother staring at the phone in her hand, wondering what had happened to her practical, responsible daughter. She could see her sitting on the sofa with Alexa’s father, debating the issue of Alexa and what to do with her, whether or not to intervene, whether or not they could.
She forced her mind back to the present. The two-bedroom hotel suite was beautiful, perched over the harbor on the top floor of the hotel. Its decor was modern but warm, with miles of white linens and upholstery that glowed in the light of the sun, warm as it reflected off the water. It might have crossed theline from minimalist to sterile if not for the rich mahogany furniture.
Nick planned to be gone only for a few hours, long enough to track down Erno Kovacs. Alexa could easily spend the time on the suite’s balcony, breathing in the sea air and dozing off her jet lag, but the phone call with her mother had made her too edgy to sit still. She wanted to move, and she reached for her bag and headed for the door.
She exited the hotel and pulled her sunglasses from her bag. She put them on and started toward the marina.
She and Nick had arrived late the night before. They’d ordered room service, made love, and crashed before Alexa had time to take in the city. Now she walked past the marina, marveling at the giant yachts, more than one with a helipad, moored there. Crew members dressed in white scurried around the decks, cleaning and carrying trays of food and drinks, presumably to the yachts’ owners, probably lounging on deck under floppy hats.
She continued past the marina, which eventually widened into a quaint stone walkway. Waves lapped at the pilings on one side of the street. Chic shops and cafes lined the other side.
A chill wind blew off the water. She should havebrought a sweater, but the brilliant sunlight had been deceiving. It wasn’t cold — not Boston-in-February cold — but it wasn’t warm either.
She debated wandering into one of the shops for a sweater, but one look at the stylish patrons told her she probably couldn’t afford anything she would find there. Nick had given her a credit card when she’d moved into the Murphy house, pressing it into her hand when she’d protested, claiming it was only in case she stopped for food or other supplies for the house. Over time he’d started telling her to use it for other things — when she went shopping with Julia and Elise, when she was down and needed a lift, when he noticed the lining in her coat had come un-sewn.
She hadn’t used it yet, but she knew he wouldn’t mind if she used it now to buy herself a sweater. Still, she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Nick and his family had been so generous already. They weren’t married, and they hadn’t had a conversation about what their future held post-Leland Walker. She knew he loved her, knew she loved him in return, and she didn’t think she was imagining that he wanted some kind of future together, but until they established the ground rules, she felt better paying her own way.
Okay, she hadn’t paid her own way to Gibraltar, but Nick had been going anyway, and she had to draw the line somewhere.
