"Yes," she says bluntly. "She can keep her trust fund, less the original investment. That still leaves her sitting pretty with the return she's made. And she can keep the apartment."
And now it all boils down to this.
"What do you think she knows about Coppens?" I ask, not even attempting to hide the dread in my voice.
"When his name came up in our original analysis of the financial documents, we did a basic search. That always includes running a foreigner through Interpol. We got a hit."
"He's a criminal?"
"No. He's not been convicted of anything. Not even arrested, but he is on a watch list for the Federale Politie as well as Interpol."
"For what?" My stomach is rolling from the anxiety of this slow feed of information. I know I'm getting closer to the source of Macy's darkness, and while I want to know what it is... I don't want to know at the same time.
"Illegal abortions," Dee says. Those words hang in the air, dirty and rotten.
"I don't understand. Abortions are legal in Belgium." I'd seen on Dr. Coppens website that he did perform them, so I just assumed they were legal.
"That's right. Since 1990. But he's suspected of doing a very specialized type of abortion," she says, and her words are coming out with a tinge of disgust. She knows what she's getting ready to tell me is bad.
"Just lay it out," I growl.
"It's suspected he performs them on underage girls. Girls that are being forced to have the procedure done against their wishes," she says quietly.
Oh, fuck. No. Fuck.
"And you think that's why the Carringtons took Macy there when she was fifteen?" I ask... my voice so choked up, I can barely get the words out.
"That's what I suspect," she says sadly.
"FUCK," I yell as I explode out of my chair, causing it to tumble over backward. I start pacing even though I'm feeling a bit dizzy. My hands come up to cover my ears, almost as if I'm afraid to hear anything else about Macy and her tortured past.
A thought strikes me.
A vicious, angry thought.
I wheel on Dee and slam my hands down on the opposite side of her desk, leaning in and almost spitting at her in fury. "Why in the fuck hasn't this been investigated further? Why isn't this guy under arrest? If her parents did that to her... why aren't they under arrest?"
"You're not going to like my answer," she says hesitantly.
"I don't like a fucking thing about any of this," I growl at her, and then take a deep breath. I turn on my heel, walk over, and pick up the chair, setting it to right.
"Coppens is small potatoes," she says from behind me.
My fingers curl inward, digging into my palms. I want to slap this woman who can say Macy isn't important enough to get justice for.
Turning back to face Dee, I force myself to calm down. I tell myself this woman still holds the power to help Macy keep her life intact. "Then why are you interested in Coppens? In what he did to Macy?"
"We don't know he did anything," Dee corrects me. "I just suspect."
"I know he did it," I say absently as I walk back to the chair to sit down. Dee doesn't press me on how I know, because she knows I won't tell her.
Attorney-client privilege and all, but fuck... it doesn't take a rocket scientist to know that monster took something sacred from Macy against her will. It all makes sense now. Her physical reaction to that man's name, her hatred of her parents.
It all started in Brussels.
It's when my love turned to hate, she had told me.
For the first time in my life, I have an almost insane urge welling up within me to kill. I'm thinking it would be Coppens. Most definitely her father. And fuck... her mother too. Who does that to a child?
Dee's voice is calm... rational... enlightening. "If Macy confirms that is what happened, I can use it as leverage against Travis Carrington in our plea deals. I can tell you right now, he's not going to entertain our offers. His high-priced attorneys will want to drag this out as long as possible. They'll defend this to the bitter end. But if I have something like this--"
"You mean sordid," I mutter.
"Yes. It's a shameful act for a man to have done to his child. The threat of it going public could induce him to plea out. The others will follow."
"But you just said this is small potatoes. You're not actually going to aid in a prosecution of this, are you?"
Dee shakes her head sadly. "No. It would be a bluff. Again, maybe Interpol or the authorities in Belgium would do something, but the US government has no power."
"You want a woman to tear her heart out, open old wounds, expose her father, and send him to prison... all on a bluff?"
"That's what I want," she affirms.
Fuck. Just... fuck.
As soon as I clear New York City toward Warwick, I call Mac.
"We got everything moved," she says into the phone as soon as she answers.
"I know what happened to Macy in Brussels," I say, and I know by the deep gasp on the other end of the line that I've shocked Mac.
"Macy told you." She says it as a statement, not as a question. She says it as a statement because I think she knew all along that I'd find out from Macy eventually.
"No. Dee Switzer, the woman prosecuting her father, told me."
"I don't understand," she says quietly.
"They want to use the threat of this against her father to induce him to take a plea deal."
"Oh," she murmurs into the phone, and I can almost feel her mind racing.
"Is it true?" I ask, my voice choking up again. "Did her parents force her to have an abortion?"
"It's not my story to tell--"
"Just fucking tell me the truth, Mac," I yell into the phone. "Fuck your little secret friends' pact and tell me what happened to the woman I fucking love."
"You love her," she murmurs, a happy note tinged with equal parts sadness.
"Tell me," I ask again.
"Yes, it's true," she says quietly. "But Macy needs to tell you the story. Don't you push her if she doesn't want to share."
My voice is shaking with fury. "How in the fuck can her parents get away with something like that?"
"Because they have billions of dollars," Mac says with disgust. "Because they cowed Macy and made her afraid. They made her feel guilty. They shamed her. It got swept under the rug and the only person who ever thinks about it is Macy. And well... me, of course."
"And now me."
"Where are you?" Mac asks.
"Heading back to my parents' house. The prosecutor says she'll get rid of the forfeiture order if Macy will give her what she wants. I'm going to have to talk to her about it."
"I need to come," Mac says quickly. "She's going to be upset."
"I know," I say tiredly. "You better hit the road."
Chapter 11
From the Diary of Macy Carrington:
Dear Diary,
I'm sitting under an apple tree. I'm on a farm. I'm breathing in fresh air.
I'm missing Cal already and he's only been gone a few hours.
He woke me up early with a sweet kiss on my cheek as I lay in the guest bedroom of his parents' house. Told me he needed to handle some urgent business in the city.
And then he left me.
In a strange place.
Among strange people.
And...
And I'm at peace with that.
I flipped out yesterday when that attorney started asking me about Brussels. I thought I would die, the pain of my memories was so great. And then... there was Cal.
He pulled me up.
Supported me.
Protected me.
Brought me to a safe place.