The Intern(75)

“Involved in what?”

“Murder,” Lee said, and the word seemed to hang in the air.

Madison looked at the bulletin board in disbelief.

“How? That happened when I was a child.”

“No. It happened the night of the Pro Bono League reception.”

“What are you talking about? I’m really confused. That murder on your poster—McCarthy—wasn’t that years ago?”

“We’re talking about Douglas Kessler. He was murdered the night of the Pro Bono League reception, shortly after getting into a very public argument. With you.”

Madison reeled back in her chair, the breath forced from her body. The world went dark.

A moment later, Martin was pouring her a glass of water.

“Are you okay? Here, drink this.”

She picked up the glass with a shaking hand.

“I take it you were unaware of his death,” he said.

But Brooke leaned forward with a “gotcha” gleam in her eye.

“Stop it, Andrew. She’s just a good little actress. She was seen talking to him right before it happened. We need to know about that conversation, Madison. Kessler’s daughter claims that whatever you said to her father got him so upset that he ran from the event without giving his speech. By then, you’d already left, hadn’t you? And Kessler was found murdered not long after.”

Her teeth chattered so hard that she had to fight to get the words out.

“I-I—want a lawyer.”

Martin threw up his hands. “Great move, Brooke. You got her to invoke. Now we waste days with her consulting a lawyer, while Kathryn Conroy flees the country.”

For a moment, Madison thought they were playing good cop/bad cop. But then she realized—Andrew Martin was genuinely not on board with Brooke Lee’s approach. Because he believed Madison was innocent.

“I didn’t have anything to do with Mr. Kessler’s murder,” she said, looking into his eyes desperately. “I would never hurt anyone. Please believe me.”

“It’s okay, Madison. I do believe you.”

Lee sighed irritably.

“Well, I’m not so sure. I’d be willing to listen to your side of the story, if not for the fact that you invoked your right to counsel. Now we can’t talk to you unless you sign a waiver. You have to decide that of your own accord. I’m not going to pressure you and get accused of violating your rights.”

“What do you say, Madison? Will you sign a waiver?” Martin asked.

“I don’t know. I’m upset. I’m tired and hungry and cold. I can’t think straight.”

“Food can be arranged. Coffee. A warm sweater,” Andrew said.

“And if she wants to talk to someone,” Olivia said, “it doesn’t have to be a lawyer. Her brother’s down the hall. She could consult him. I bet he’d get her talking.”

“Danny? He’s here?”

The prosecutors glared at Olivia like she’d divulged a state secret. But it was the only good thing Madison had heard in days.

“Yes, let me talk to him. I need to. Now. Please,” she said, tears in her eyes.

“Can we consult?” Lee said, gesturing at the door.

The prosecutors and Olivia stepped out. Madison heard their voices in the hall, low and urgent. She couldn’t make out the words, but the sound was like white noise, lulling her. Her eyelids were heavy. She rested her head on the table. When the door opened a while later, she jerked up. Despite the tension, she was so exhausted that she’d dozed off.

“We’re all set. Come with me,” Olivia said.

“Where?”

“You’ll see. You’ll be happy, promise.”

She followed Olivia down a hallway that seemed to go on forever. High ceilings, marble floors, identical-looking doors, numbered but otherwise indistinguishable. It was like a bureaucracy conjured to life. As they walked, Olivia handed Madison a black puffer jacket.

“I got this from the lost and found. A bit large, but it’ll keep you warm.”

“Thanks.”

They stopped in front of a closed door. After the trauma of Brooke Lee’s interrogation, she braced herself for a letdown.

“It’s true? I’m really going to see my brother?” she asked, eyes welling.

“Yes, ma’am. See for yourself.”

Olivia pushed open the door.

“Danny.”

He was up and out of his chair, his well-loved face bright with a fierce joy, grabbing her, lifting her in the air. She threw her arms around his neck. They were smiling, sobbing, talking over each other.

“We’ll wait outside, give you guys some family time,” Olivia said, motioning to the U.S. Marshal who’d been guarding Danny.

They were alone in the room. Tears streamed down Madison’s face.

“They wouldn’t tell us where you were. We thought you might be dead.”

“I never thought I’d see you or Ma again.”

She stepped back to get a better look at him. His eyes were sunken, his skin dull, his thin frame verging on emaciated.

“What did they do to you?”

“Hey, you don’t look so great either.”

“Yeah, I’ve been through the wringer.”

“But here we are, still standing, and together. That’s what matters. Seeing you now, Maddy, I just—”