Pandora's Box (35 page)

“I’ll do my best.”
 
She went to move past him, but he pulled her against his side and whispered in her ear.
 
“I am sorry about DeMarco.
 
You trusted him, and he screwed you over, but I hope you know you can trust me no matter what.”

She did.

And no one was more surprised than her.

******

Chapter Sixteen

Madison
caught an airplane home and went straight to her dad’s house.
  
She’d been even more afraid to fly than usual, but what choice did she have?
 
Grainger’s final words kept ringing in her ears.
 
If her father had hidden a deep, dark secret in his own Pandora’s Box he wouldn’t have been dumb enough to keep it in his house.
 
But she was hoping to find a clue that would lead her to it.

So she had gone to her dad’s while
Tyler
went to pay his father a visit.
 
The idea of him trusting Malcom Law made her uneasy, especially after the plane the president had sent for them was blown to pieces, but
Tyler
had insisted he could take care of himself.

She hesitated in the doorway.
 
It felt wrong, being in her father’s house without permission.
 
She almost expected him to come in from the kitchen with a fresh pot of tea or swagger down the stairs, fixing his tie.
 
Her eyes blurred with tears.
 
She angrily swiped at them with the back of her hand.
 
It still wasn’t time yet.
 
She couldn’t afford to lose control of her emotions, not while she and Tyler remained in danger.

She pushed the door shut behind her and went to work.
 
Madison
took it a room at a time.
 
She tipped out drawers, emptied the closets on the floor, and searched every pocket of every piece of clothing her father owned.
 
Nothing.
 
She’d been hoping to find a key or paper with a clue on it.
 
Although it would have been nice to find the box itself,
Madison
knew her father hadn’t been a fool.
 
He wouldn’t leave something important in his home unguarded.

Two hours of searching left her empty handed.
 
She sat in the center of the living room floor surrounded by a mess of discarded crap.
 
Apparently her father had kept every tiny thing she’d ever made at school.

Nostalgia pushed the mysteries she’d been working on to the back of her mind.

Then there were pictures, hundreds and hundreds of pictures taken over the years.
 
They featured a multitude of faces from
Madison
to her mother to people
Madison
didn’t recognize.
 
Some of them were probably forgotten relatives.
 
She even found some of her father when he was in college.
 
There was one of him in front of a fraternity with his three friends, showing off the new tattoos on their hands.
 
She wondered if the ‘P’ stood for power.

Madison
remembered her father’s weathered hand.
 
The tattoo had faded over the years, but it had still been there.
 
Every time she’d asked about it, he’d given her a different story.
   

She wondered if after everything came to light, would she still feel like shedding a single tear for her father?

An explosive memory flashed in her mind like lightning.
 
She saw the hand pressing down on her mother’s wrist.
 
On the hand was a tattoo, the same tattoo her father had had, and she got a quick flash of the young man’s face.
 
It was gone before she had time to figure out who she was looking at.

Why couldn’t she remember who had killed her mother?

She sat up straight and sucked in a deep, painful breath.
 
Her gut told her that her mother had been killed by one of her father’s buddies.
 
But which one?

The sun had gone down outside.
 
Her father’s house was almost in complete darkness.
 
She considered getting off the floor long enough to turn a light on, but she rather liked sitting in the dark.
 
At least she couldn’t see the mess now.
 
She was going to have to clean it up and put things in order.
 
Eventually she’d have to decide what to keep, what to sell, and what to throw out.
 

A noise caught her attention.
 
Her ears strained to hear it again.
 
Was it her imagination, or had the noise come from inside the house?

Madison
pulled her gun from the back of her slacks.
 
She stood slowly, careful not to make any noise herself.
 
She crossed the room into the foyer.
 
Her eyes traveled up the stairs.
 
Already adjusted to the darkness, she could pick out every detail in her father’s home.
 
If someone had broken in, she was ready for them.

Another noise.
 
She slowed her breathing and took it a step at a time, heading for the kitchen.
 
Turning sideways she pressed her shoulder against the kitchen’s swinging door.
 
Careful not to make it creak, she pushed it open an inch.
 
From what she could see, nothing appeared to be disturbed.

The door slammed her back, moving in the opposite direction.
 
Before she hit the ground she realized someone had been on the other side the whole time.
 
The intruder had waited for her to get close before kicking it.
 
She landed on the floor, rolled to her back, and pointed the gun at the kitchen doorway.
 
There was no one there.

Sharp female laughter floated out from the kitchen.
 
Like fingernails on a chalkboard.
 
Madison
recognized the sound.
 
Roxie, the notorious Blonde Assassin.
 

Madison
relaxed somewhat.
 
If Roxie had wanted to kill her, the assassin could have shot her through the door instead of kicking it.
 
Roxie was becoming more annoying than anything.
 
In a loud voice
Madison
asked, “What do you want?
 
Why are you here?”

“Same reason you are.”
 

“And that is?”

“Looking for the truth.”

Roxie flipped into the room just like
Madison
had flipped off the bed and into
Tyler
’s arms.
 
The Blonde Assassin kicked the gun from
Madison
’s hands.
 
It flew across the room, striking the wall with a dull thud.
 
But Roxie didn’t attack
Madison
.
 
Instead, she wandered into the living room.

Madison
jumped to her feet.
 
She took a moment to catch her breath, her eyes on the living room doorway.
 
Roxie turned the light on before hunching down in the center of the photographs.
 
She moved them around, seemingly fascinated.
 
Seeing the woman’s hands on her father’s pictures made
Madison
feel sick inside.
 

“Ah, this one is a nice one of you.”
 
Roxie lifted the picture high.
 
It was the one of
Madison
, age six, learning to ride a bike.
 
That photo had been taken just before her mother’s death.
 

“Put it down!”
Madison
demanded.

Roxie let it slip from her fingers.
 
She stood slowly.
 
Her eyes narrowed on
Madison
’s face.
 
The woman purposely stepped on the picture with her black stiletto heel, grounding it hard for a second before turning away.
 

“What’s wrong,
Madison
?
 
Don’t like to share?”

“You have no business here.”

“You’re wrong.”
 
Roxie licked her bright red lips.
 
“I have every right to be in this house.
 
After all, the man who owned this house could have easily been my father.
 
He should have been my father.”

Madison
shook her head.
 
“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Still haven’t figured it out.”
 
Roxie made little shame-on-you noises with her tongue and wagged a finger at
Madison
.
 
“You’re slow for such a smart agent.
 
Well, let me clue you in, sister.
 
My mother was your mother.
 
She gave me away, probably because her husband wasn’t the father.
 
Rico raised me.”

Ridiculous!
 
Madison
’s mind screamed, refusing to believe such a bold lie.

“Maybe you should sit down before you faint,” Roxie said.
 
She jumped high in the air, kicked
Madison
in the chest.
 
Madison
landed hard on the sofa.
 
She gasped for air.
 
The breath had been knocked out of her.
 
Roxie added, “Sit right there and listen.”

Roxie pulled out a gun.
 
She straddled the nearby ottoman, her long legs bent awkwardly at the knees.
 
While
Madison
struggled to breathe, Roxie told her story in a cold, toneless voice.
 

“I figured it out long ago.
 
I knew I was adopted, so I put two and two together.
 
For a while I thought Duncan Grey was my father.
 
He thought so too.”
 
Roxie glared at her.
 
“You look surprised,
Madison
.
 
I approached your father for a DNA test and he agreed to do it.
 
But it wasn’t him.”
 
She used her gun as a pointer, jabbing it in the air.
 
“Lucky you, you were legitimate.
 
I should kill you for that alone.”

Madison
found her voice.
 
“Did you test my mom’s DNA?
 
What in the hell makes you think she was your mother?”

“She loved me.
 
I saw it in her eyes every time I came over.
 
Then I learned I was adopted.
 
It wasn’t hard to put the pieces together.”

“You are not my sister.”

Roxie laughed louder this time.
 

“Denial just ain’t a river, huh,
Madison
?
 
You need to get on the same page with me, honey.
 
Otherwise, you won’t understand when I get to the punch line.
 
Okay?”

The Blonde Assassin leaped off the ottoman.
 
She grabbed
Madison
by the hair and forced her head up and down in a hard nodding motion.
 
She said, “That’s right.
 
Now we understand each other.”

Madison
grabbed the sofa cushions, digging her fingernails deep to keep from knocking the blonde’s head off.
 
She needed a moment to recuperate from the kick before she could beat the snot out of the blonde lunatic.

Roxie paced the length of the room while she talked.
 
“Anyway, I already checked Rico.
 
I tested his DNA without his knowledge, and he’s not my father either.
 
Too bad for him.
 
He was a good mentor.
 
He taught me everything I know.”

“How to kill in cold blood, you mean,”
Madison
said.
 
She struggled to sit up straighter, her body aching all over.
 
When the time came, she’d be ready to fight.

“He was a good surrogate father,” Roxie said.
 
“He reined in Dr. Grainger for me, convinced that stupid rodent to share his invention.”

“You planted the microchips.”
 
Madison
tried to stand abruptly and winced at the pain streaking through the center of her.
 
She had at least one bruised or cracked rib.
 
“Why?”

Roxie’s red lips twisted into a bitter line.
 
“Figure that one out for yourself.
 
You have one.
 
Did you know?
 
I can make you do anything I want.
 
How does it feel,
Madison
, knowing that you’re nothing more than a puppet?”