“Does Chase have the usual spelling?”
“C-H-A-S-E. But I’m warning you. Don’t try to find her.”
“Why not?”
“You won’t succeed. She’s a ghost. That’s why I think she’s an undercover. Which begs the question: Working for who, investigating what? And what would they do to her if they found out? I wouldn’t stick my neck out if I was you.”
“What did Olivia look like?”
“I’m serious, Madison. Don’t be foolish. Drop this, or you’ll wind up in trouble.”
She stared at Imani pointedly. “Tell me what she looked like.”
“Fine, it’s your funeral. Average-looking. Brown hair. Medium height. Buff, like she works out. Regular features. Boring dresser. Mature for a law student, meaning older than average in appearance. But I’m telling you, you’ll never find her. And if you’re not careful, you’ll wind up just like her, which could be really bad. Olivia is not currently registered in any Boston-area law school. Now, maybe she got caught snooping, Nancy reported that to her dean, and she was expelled. But maybe she’s floating in a river somewhere, and that’s only partly a joke.”
In the heat of the bar, Madison shivered. Imani got to her feet.
“I’ve got a headache, and this place is making me claustrophobic.”
“Go. I’ll get the check.”
“Thanks. Watch your back, hear me?”
“You too.”
They hugged goodbye. Madison signaled the bartender. She was waiting for the bill when she caught a flash of red from the corner of her eye.
Wallace.
But when she turned in a panic to scan the room, he wasn’t there.
* * *
Watch your back. Out on the street, Madison heeded the warning, walking for a good ten minutes in well-lit, high-traffic areas, ducking into doorways to scan the street behind her. Only once she was certain Wallace wasn’t following did she call an Uber and go to the town house.
The lights were on in the town house as she passed by on the other side of the street. Her shoulders relaxed when she saw it. Nightmare scenarios had been running through her mind all day. Judge Conroy behind bars, talking to the feds, giving up anyone and everyone, including Madison herself. Judge Conroy kidnapped by Wallace, in the trunk of a car, chained in a basement. Ridiculous. The judge was at home, keeping a low profile because of the chaos all around her. Well, Madison would give her an earful. She’d demand that dismissal order for Danny, then quit on the spot, making a break with the judge before things got worse.
She took a roundabout route to the alley behind the town house until she was certain that she was not being followed. The judge’s white SUV was in its parking spot. She crossed the empty courtyard, feeling exposed in the blaze of light that spilled from the house. In the back hallway, she went to disable the alarm. But it hadn’t been armed in the first place. Odd. The kitchen smelled stale, a faint tang of garbage in the air.
“Hello? Judge, it’s me, Madison.”
No reply. She stopped and listened. The silence was thick and heavy. It was a bit after nine. Every light was on, so the judge was not asleep. Was she sick?
In the back hall, Lucy’s food bowl was not just empty, but licked clean. Madison had never known Judge Conroy to let the cat go hungry. The water bowl was dry. Behind her, feet pattered. Lucy rubbed up against her legs, meowing. She seemed eager for Madison to pick her up.
“Where’s your mom, huh? She didn’t feed you?” she said, picking up the cat and kissing her head.
Lucy never normally let Madison cuddle her like that. She opened a can and dumped food in the bowl. Lucy attacked it. Madison filled the water bowl, then tiptoed to the bottom of the grand staircase, looking up. The second-floor lights were on.
“Judge?”
Nothing.
Suddenly afraid of what she might find, she got out her phone and tapped in 911, poising her thumb over the Call icon. A pulse beat in her throat as she climbed the stairs. The door to the master suite was ajar. She stopped on the threshold, gathering her nerve, and shoved the door with her foot. It swung open. The room was brightly lit. The bed had not been slept in. Breathing out, she walked into the dressing room. It was strewn with empty shopping bags and evening wear. A sleek black dress. A red pantsuit. A sequined skirt and several slinky tops that went with it. Clothes they’d considered for the reception and rejected. Judge Conroy had been planning to return them the following day at lunchtime. Meaning today. She hadn’t, obviously.