As Ray got into a waiting limo, the camera went back to the reporter. “It’s been estimated that Atlanta and Ray Manville have so far collected one-point-four billion—that’s billion—dollars in cash. And where are they putting their dollars? Not in an American bank. Since the accidental drowning of James Manville’s former attorney, Phillip Waterman, yesterday—”
That’s when Bailey dropped the glasses of champagne on the floor, and when she stood there in frozen silence, her eyes wide and staring, Matt came around the couch and led her to sit down. He was listening to the TV, but he was watching Bailey.
“—the business liquidations have doubled,” the reporter continued. “No one knows the reasons behind these sales—and especially not the reason for the speed. Back to you, Nancy.”
In the newsroom, behind the heads of the two anchor-people, was a photo of the late James Manville and his wife, and the reporter was speculating on where his widow was now. “Could she have prevented this, Chuck?” the woman was saying. “If his wife of sixteen years had stayed and fought, would this be happening now?”
Suddenly everything in Bailey’s mind started spinning, and the walls seemed to be closing in on her. She slumped forward and would have hit the floor if Matt hadn’t caught her. He picked her up in his arms and carried her down the hall to her bedroom.
“Is she okay?” he heard Carol ask from behind him.
“Fine,” Matt said, trying to keep his voice calm. “She dropped the glasses and cut her hand, and she’s a little faint. We’ll be out in a minute.”
“I’ll clean it up, and if you need anything, let us know,” Carol called through the door.
Matt put Bailey on the bed, then went to the bathroom to get a cloth soaked in cold water. Sitting down by her on the bed, he put the cool cloth on her forehead.
Instantly Bailey tried to sit up, but Matt pushed her back down. “Get hold of yourself. Calm down. Don’t let them see that you’re upset, or they’ll ask questions.”
“I . . . I don’t know what you mean. I—”
Matt wiped her face with the cold cloth. “James Manville is your Jimmie, isn’t he? I recognized you in the photo. Your face is thinner now, and your nose is different, but it was you.”
When she hesitated, Matt said, “Don’t even think of lying to me! There were so many odd things about you, like how you don’t know how to do simple things, like order from a catalog, yet you’ve been all over the world. And you—Anyway, I knew you’d either been isolated in some rich prison or— Truthfully, I couldn’t come up with an answer to explain what you were like. All I’ve known is that you have one really big secret.”
“And now what do you plan to do about it?” she asked suspiciously.
“Hit you up for a loan,” he said.
“I don’t— Oh, I see. That was a joke.”
“A bad one. Is the Phillip who drowned the same man who paid for cleaning and clearing this place?”
As that memory flooded back to her, Bailey put the back of her hand to her mouth. “Phillip. He’s Carol’s husband. The girls’ father. Oh, Matt, she doesn’t know. She’s been angry at him because he’s been working such long hours, so I don’t think he knows she’s here. Knew,” Bailey said, and tears came to her eyes.
“Stop it!” Matt said, his hands on her shoulders. “You can’t do this. Who was the call from, the one in the middle of the night?”
“It was Phillip,” Bailey said, choking back tears. “He was warning me about . . . I can’t think. He was warning me about something, but I can’t remember what.”
“Since you’ve been here, you’ve been asking a lot of questions of everyone. Why?”
“Jimmie asked me—I mean, he left me a note with his will. He wanted me to find out what happened.”
“Happened about what?”
“I don’t know. It’s just—” She broke off as she opened her bedside table drawer and removed her address book. Stuck between the pages was the note that Phillip had given her.
Matt took the note and read it. “What does this mean? He wants you to find out the truth about what?”
“I don’t
know,” Bailey half shouted. “I don’t know,” she said again, then lay back on the pillows. “What am I going to tell Carol? I don’t know how, but Phillip’s death is my fault. Maybe if I had found out the truth, and maybe if I’d listened to Phillip, maybe—”
“Your only fault has been in not confiding in me,” Matt said. “Now, listen, here’s what I want you to do. I want us both to go back out there and pretend that you haven’t heard devastating news. I’ll tell Violet to keep Carol away from all media until you and I can talk to her. And I’ll think of something to get rid of all of them as soon as possible. Then you and I are going to sit down and have a talk. Agreed?”
Part of Bailey said she wanted to stand on her own two feet, but another part wanted to put her head on Matt’s big shoulder and let him take over. The cowardly part won out.
“Thanks,” Matt said when he saw her face relax. Taking her hands, he pulled her off the bed, smoothed back her hair, and looked down at her. “Not bad,” he said. “You look like you’ve just had a tumble.”