CHAPTER 65
Hunting Valley, Ohio
THERESA MAY ALCOTT REMOVED the gardening apron she wore, went to a sink, and washed her hands.
“Can you finish up for me, Arthur?” she asked. “I’m going up to the house with Chief Stone for a cup of tea. Shall I send some down for you?”
Arthur was still regarding Bree suspiciously, but he nodded. “Tea would be nice. And don’t worry, I’ll have everything ready to put in the ground come morning.”
“Seven sharp. I have meetings from nine on.”
“Seven sharp, Terri.”
Bree followed her out of the greenhouse and listened as Alcott chanted out the vegetables and herbs that would be “accepted into the ground” the following morning.
“How do you eat it all?” Bree asked.
Alcott led her out of the garden and up a short rise to the house. “What we don’t eat is donated to multiple food banks and school-lunch programs in the Cleveland area. Nothing goes to waste. And everything’s organic.”
“Was this always an interest of yours? Gardening?”
“My mother was a gardener, but I hated it as a girl. It was only over time that I came to appreciate the power and fulfillment of helping to nurture something to life.” The billionaire said it was similar to her cattle ranch outside Jackson. “The ranch was my late husband’s passion,” she said, opening a rear door to the house. “He made me see the beauty in being part of the greater food cycle.”
They entered a mudroom, where Alcott kicked off her rubber boots. Bree slipped off her sneakers and padded after her down a short hallway that emerged into a beautiful, immaculate, yellow-and-white kitchen.
A woman in her forties sat at the table. She put down her People magazine. “Terri?”
“Tea, please, Marie. In the office?”
“Coming up.”
Alcott motioned for Bree to follow her down another short hall to an expansive office. The desk was huge and cluttered. Several computer screens glowed on and behind it.
“My reckless command center,” Alcott said.
“Looks like you have a lot on your plate.”
Alcott smiled and pointed her to one of two overstuffed chairs flanking a small cocktail table. “You have no idea.”
“You’re probably right.”
The billionaire took the other chair, sighed. “You must think me cut off from the realities of life.”
“Not at all, Mrs. Alcott. You seem surprisingly genuine.”
“Call me Terri, and bless you for that. It took years in therapy and more than a few monthlong retreats in India after Gil—my husband—died for me to get to this point.”
She chuckled wistfully. “And now to your loose ends,” she said, sobering. “What has brought you to my greenhouse door, Chief Stone?”
“Tell me about your granddaughter.”
Alcott’s face fell. “Olivia. Olivia May. My younger daughter’s second child.”
The older woman proceeded to tell a story similar to the others Bree had heard: Duchaine scouts luring seventeen-year-old Olivia into a trap. The promises of fame. The excitement of moving to New York. The rejection. The plastic surgeries. The mounting debt. The sex trafficking.
“All the things you described in your report,” Alcott said. “Olivia could have come to her mother or me for money. But by then, shame had set in and she was using drugs. When we found out what was happening, she could not face us. She intentionally overdosed, leaving us a letter that described her ordeal.”
Marie came into the room carrying a tea service and a basket of cookies. When she’d gone and Bree had had a sip of tea, she said, “So you hired Bluestone and me to investigate at that point?”
“You were the second firm hired to investigate Olivia’s death. The first dug up what was given to you when they reached a dead end.”
“Why us? Your attorney indicated you had some sort of recommendation?”
CHAPTER 66
BREE HAD BLUFFED ABOUT the recommendation. Alcott seemed confused and looked into the middle distance.
“Yes,” she said slowly. “That’s right, from a small company I’ve invested in. Bluestone evidently worked on their internal security setup when they started doing some projects for the government.”
Bree had not expected that, and Bluestone did do government IT security-compliance work. Quite a bit of it, in fact. She decided to move in another direction. “After you read my report, what was your reaction?”
Bree watched the older woman think back, her eyes softening a few seconds before sharpening. “I could not believe it was happening on that kind of scale.”
“Did it make you angry?”
“Weren’t you? Writing that report? I felt it.”
“I was. I am.”
“There you are, then,” the billionaire said. “I was angry. Infuriated. Appalled.”
“When did you hear about the killings at Paula Watkins’s home?”
“The morning after, I believe. On the news.”
“And what was your reaction to the murders?”
Alcott thought about that. “To be honest, I was horrified for maybe ten seconds, but then, as the names of the dead and their reputations came out, I felt less so.”
“You didn’t feel deprived of a chance to expose them, to get revenge?”
She curled her upper lip. “I admit that’s been a bitter pill to swallow. But now I ask myself, what good is revenge? Will that bring back Olivia? No. Will it hurt my daughter Anna, Olivia’s mother? Yes. And so, it is enough now. I can see that some kind of cosmic justice has been done. Powers greater than yours or mine were at play. And it is enough.”
Bree said, “You won’t go to the journalists with the evidence I dug up?”
“Again, will that bring back my granddaughter? The media will get its meat when Frances Duchaine goes on trial.”
“She claims she’s innocent.”
Alcott turned colder. “So did Saddam Hussein.”
A phone on the desk rang before Bree could respond.
“Can you hold on a moment?” the billionaire asked. “I rarely get calls on the landlines anymore.” Alcott got up and went to her desk, picked up the receiver, and punched a button. “This is Terri.”
She listened closely and then smiled, said, “Give me a minute, will you, Emma, dear? I’m with someone and I’ll need to pick up in another room.”
Alcott hit the Hold button and hung up. “I am sorry, Chief Stone. This won’t take long, but it can’t wait.”
“Please. Take your time.”
The older woman hurried from the room, closing the office door behind her. Bree got up and walked around, looking at the books and framed pictures on the shelves. Many featured Theresa May Alcott with her husband, Gil, at various places around the world. In others, the couple posed with various famous people: Presidents Bill Clinton, George W. Bush, and Barack Obama; LeBron James and Phil Mickelson; Meryl Streep, Denzel Washington, and Robert Redford. Jerry Lewis was featured in at least three of them.
The credenza behind Alcott’s desk was crowded with photographs of large family gatherings, many taken with the Grand Tetons towering behind them. In each, you could see the family growing, evolving, the older generation gradually disappearing and the new gaining ground.