“That’s more than we agreed.”
“I know, but the weekend turned out to be more eventful than we agreed. I said I would make it up to you, and I mean it. I’m compensating you for your trouble and showing appreciation for your discretion.”
“You don’t need to buy my silence.”
Judge Conroy was taken aback by her directness.
“It’s not like that. To come home to Lucy being in a good mood, dinner, a clean house—that’s worth a lot to me. I appreciate you, Madison. I was trying to show it, that’s all. Keep the money. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to change.”
She took her wine with her as she pulled the suitcase toward the stairs, the cat prancing alongside and threatening to get under her feet. Madison left the money sitting on the island for the moment, uneasy. As many uses as she had for it, she knew she ought to refuse it, as well as the cashmere pants. Really, she should leave this house and not look back, never speak to the judge again outside class, quit the internship. But she couldn’t. Danny was missing, and the judge knew something, or at least she was tight with people who did. To find out more, Madison had to get her to stop stonewalling and start confiding. She’d be better able to do that if she seemed like someone whose silence could be bought.
She tucked the money in her backpack and went to set the table.
Ten minutes later, the judge was back, in flowy pants, a cashmere sweater, velvet slippers, her hair loose around her shoulders. She set her empty wineglass on the island, and Madison rushed to fill it. She needed Judge Conroy to believe that she was still the adoring student, the acolyte, whose discretion could be counted on. She felt a pang of loss that it was no longer true. Whether the judge was a victim or a villain, she wasn’t the hero Madison had looked up to, and that made her sad.
She’d set out a platter with a bit of charcuterie, roasted peppers, some black olives. The judge took a seat at a bar stool.
“Come, sit. I can’t eat this lavish spread all by myself. It’s absolutely gorgeous. You even got my favorite olives. How did you know?”
“I think we have the same taste.”
“Well, it’s good taste,” the judge said, popping an olive in her mouth.
“Hold on, I’m just draining the pasta. Oh, I got sardines for Lucy. I hope that’s okay. I mixed a couple in with her food.”
“No wonder she likes you. She’s very picky. When Nancy comes over, Lucy hisses and goes off and pees in the corner.”
Madison giggled. “No!”
“Oh, yes. She hates that woman with a passion.”
The judge’s tone suggested that she shared the sentiment. Interesting. As Madison dressed the salad and put the finishing touches on the pasta, she made a mental note to look into the case manager.
Madison carried their plates to the table. The dish was basically elevated comfort food, easier to pull off than it would appear to someone who didn’t cook. The judge looked transported as she took the first bite.
“Luscious. Where did you learn to cook like this?”
“My mom worked long hours when I was growing up, so I—”
She stopped herself. She’d been on the verge of saying that she cooked for herself and Danny.
“—if I wanted to eat, I had to cook. And I waitressed through high school and college. Not easy work, but I love restaurants.”
“This is restaurant quality. So good.”
“I’m glad you like it. Did you eat anywhere fun in DC? I hear the food scene there is fantastic.”
The judge set down her glass with a clatter, her face going gray.
“How did you know I was in Washington?”
“You mentioned that last night when your friend came to the door.”
She took a deep breath, seeming relieved. “Oh, I forgot. But I told you, he’s not my friend.”
She sounded like she meant it, and looked genuinely upset. Madison wondered again if this was some sort of abusive relationship. Maybe the judge needed help.
“What is he to you, then? Is he hurting you?”
“No. And I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Judge, you can trust me. My aunt was in an abusive relationship. I lived with them for a while, but didn’t know until he—”
Her stomach lurched. She’d been about to mention Hector beating Danny. God, she had to stop thinking about her brother, or she’d blow her cover with the judge. From the intent way Judge Conroy was watching her, she worried that she already knew.
“He what?”