36 Hours (11 page)

Now Max is home for Kevin’s funeral—after years of drug abuse, he committed suicide. She’s finally prepared to come to terms with the loss of his friendship, but she’s not prepared for Kevin’s sister to stubbornly insist that he didn’t kill himself. Or for an elderly couple to accost her at the airport, begging her to look into another murder at Max’s old high school. Max is more interested in the cold case at her alma mater than in digging around Kevin’s troubled life, but she agrees to do both. As Max uncovers dark secrets, she finds herself caught in a complicated web of lies that hit far too close to home. And it’s becoming increasingly clear that someone will do whatever it takes to make sure the truth stays buried.

“Brennan’s NOTORIOUS introduces readers to a new and fascinating heroine worth rooting for. She’s an investigative reporter who’s not afraid to kick butt, climb a tree, or go to jail in pursuit of her story. She’s savvy and smart and takes no prisoners. Buckle up and brace yourself for Maxine Revere.”


—SANDRA BROWN

NOTORIOUS

A Max Revere Thriller

By Allison Brennan

Prologue

Hester has returned.

Lindy Ames double-underlined the sentence, the ballpoint pen leaving a deep gouge in the paper. She slammed the diary shut and slid it back onto the bookshelf, the spine blending in with all the other books that no one would read. Decoration. Stately books in a handsome room.

It had been luck—or maybe some cruel god rubbing her face in her own failings—that she’d seen the slut at the clinic and put two and two together. The timing was right. Why should Lindy be upset? It wasn’t like she and William had an exclusive relationship—they were both sneaking around behind the backs of their friends and significant others.

But sitting down, talking to the girl, finding out the truth … it was eye-opening. Lindy saw her future and it sucked.

She was just as bad as William. Worse, there was no one she could talk to about it because they’d agreed to keep their relationship secret. Friends with benefits, she’d told him.

Lindy ran up to her bedroom; her bed still smelled of sex even though William had left fifteen minutes ago. Why had she even slept with him?

Because you wanted to.

Their fight had been the worst yet, but at the same time she finally felt free. She didn’t want to be his girlfriend. She never had. She’d wanted William because others coveted him—he was gorgeous and smart and richly arrogant. And he was a Revere—who wouldn’t want to marry into that family? But she’d lost so much playing this game with him, and after Kevin broke up with her, she realized that she needed to get her life in order before she left for college, or she’d continue to make the same, stupid mistakes.

William didn’t understand – for the first time, they were both free, they could go public with their relationship. But all the secrets and lies and sneaking around for the last year had caught up with her. She couldn’t even pretend with him anymore, not even for the summer.

Determined to forget William, she gathered up her sheets and put them in the washing machine. “There.”

The low hum of the washing machine reminded Lindy that she was alone. The mansion was empty—her mother had joined her dad on his business trip to New York. She considered calling Kevin, but he wasn’t talking to her. Their breakup had been bad, and when she tried to talk to him yesterday, they’d argued all over again. She couldn’t blame him. He’d found out she was sleeping with another guy and wanted to know who; she hadn’t told him. How could she? They were all friends. If Kevin found out she’d screwed William a half-dozen times while she purported to be Kevin’s girlfriend, he wouldn’t have been able to keep his mouth shut. And then
everyone
would be mad at them. She thought of calling Maxine, but even her best friend—and Kevin’s too—had been acting aloof. Or was Max just preoccupied with preparing for college? Or so wrapped up in her own boyfriend problems that she didn’t have time anymore? Or maybe—maybe it was Lindy’s fault. Max had this uncanny way of knowing when Lindy was lying.

Lindy missed her best friend. Max was blunt and smart and didn’t put up with anyone’s bullshit. And Lindy had screwed up their friendship, just like everything else.

It was time to break away, she told herself. Clean slate. She was going to college in three months, she’d put William and Kevin and even Max behind her. If her best friend was going to be so damn judgmental, she didn’t need her.

Lindy left the house and walked across the lawn to her clubhouse, built into a grove of trees in the back corner of her property. As soon as she entered, she felt at peace. More than a mere clubhouse, it was a three-story guesthouse with a full kitchen and pool table (from when her brother was still at home) and television and huge collection of movies. It might seem odd to forsake a nine-thousand-square-foot mansion for a thousand square foot bungalow, but it had been her sanctuary ever since she was little.

They’d had a club, she and Caitlin and Olivia primarily, and others through the years, and when Max moved to Atherton, she hung out with them too. They had sleepovers and parties and on occasion got drunk or stoned. And more recently, since Kevin left and all the weirdness with William, it had become Lindy’s private haven, where she could disappear.

Sometimes, she wished she could get away from herself. To be someone else. Sometimes, she wondered what would happen if she just came clean with everyone, spilled all the secrets she knew, and let the shit fly. It might be fun.

But it would hurt everyone she cared about. Which is why she didn’t tell William the real reason she was calling it off. He’d find out soon enough, anyway.

Lindy opened her clubhouse refrigerator and took out a beer. If her parents knew she kept a stock of drinks in here, they’d never said anything. Probably thought it was better for her to drink here than risk driving drunk to parties all over town.

She sensed the door opening more than she heard it. She turned around and stared at her visitor, surprised. The last thing she needed was more drama in her life.

Maybe this was how it was supposed to be. Get rid of all her baggage, once and for all.

“Go away.” She turned her back to the door, determined to postpone any confrontation. “I’m not in the mood for you to bitch at me again.”

The door closed and she heard a cry. Not like someone was hurt, but like someone was in pain. A guttural cry, like a trapped animal.

Maybe this was how it was supposed to be. Get rid of all her baggage, once and for all.

Something isn’t right.

Heart racing, she started to spin around again, instinctively bringing her arms up, though she wondered why on earth would she have to defend herself. A sharp pain on the back of her head brought Lindy to her knees before she could face her attacker.

“Wh—what are—you--” she felt sick, like she was going to puke, and struggled to get up onto all fours. Her vision burred, and for one brief second thought it had been an accident.

Then hands grabbed her neck from behind and pushed her down. Her attacker sat on her back, held her down, and squeezed her neck.

She tried to talk, tried to scream, but she couldn’t draw in any air. Her arms flailed, trying to hit the person behind her, but she had no control over her limbs. She couldn’t breathe.

Stop!

But she couldn’t speak, the scream trapped in her lungs.

Why are you hurting me? I’ve known you forever …

Her vision went from blurry to black to nothing.

Chapter One

Going home was a bitch.

Maxine Revere had flirted with the idea of flying in solely for Kevin’s funeral so her perfect and dysfunctional family wouldn’t hear about her visit until she was already on a plane back to New York City. Three things stopped her.

Foremost, Max did not run away from uncomfortable situations. She recognized that she wasn’t the same nineteen-year-old who’d defied her family.

She’d also get a kick from walking into the family mansion unannounced and watching a reboot of
Dallas,
set in California. The Sterling-Revere Family could take on the Ewings and win without breaking a nail or going to jail. Being the blackest sheep in the herd was more fun than taking two cross-country flights in one day.

But the primary reason she was staying for the weekend was for Kevin’s sister, Jodi O’Neal. Kevin had been Max’s former best friend and confidante. He’d killed himself and Jodi had questions. She had no answers for the college co-ed, but she understood why Jodi sought truth where there had only been lies. Max had survived grief, she’d been a close acquaintance to death, and maybe she could give Jodi a modicum of peace.

Traveling first class had advantages, including prompt disembarking. Max strode off the plane at San Francisco International Airport, her long legs putting distance between her and the other passengers. Her two-inch heels made her an even six feet, but her confident stride and stunning looks caused heads to turn. She ignored the attention. Her cell phone vibrated and she ignored that too.

Her full-time assistant and as-needed bodyguard, former Army Ranger David Kane, easily kept up with her. He turned heads as well, mostly from fear. When he wasn’t smiling, he looked like he’d kill you with no remorse or pleasure. He didn’t smile often. But as Max had learned, looks were a form of lying. David’s steel core protected him as much as her pursuit of truth protected Max.

“I don’t need you,” she told him. “We settled this yesterday, or were you placating me?”

“All I suggested was that I drive you to Atherton before I head to Marin.”

“It’s foolish for you to drive an hour out of your way. I’m not incapable of driving myself.” She ignored David’s subtle smirk. “And I need a car. This isn’t New York where I can walk everywhere or grab a taxi.
Go.
Emma is waiting.”

“If you’re sure.”

She glared at him. “She’s your daughter.”

“She comes with her mother.”

“I’m not the one who screwed Brittney in a failed attempt to prove I wasn’t gay,” Max said, “and I will not let you use me as an excuse to avoid the selfish bitch.” Tough love. David adored his twelve-year-old daughter, but her mother made their relationship difficult. Brittney wouldn’t let David spend a minute more with Emma than the court mandated, and the flight delay had already cost him two hours.

They wove through the crowd at baggage claim without slowing down, and stopped at the turnstile where their luggage would be delivered.

“Emma wants to see you,” David said.

“The funeral is tomorrow. You’ll be on a plane to Hawaii Sunday morning. Enjoy your vacation—when you get back, if I’m still here we can meet up in the city for lunch and I’ll take Emma shopping.”

David grunted. “She doesn’t need more clothes.”

“A girl can never have too many shoes.” Max doubted she’d have kids of her own, and she enjoyed playing aunt to David’s daughter when Emma visited him in New York.

Max parked herself near the carousel opening because she didn’t want to be here any longer than she had to. Airports were part of her life, but she grew tired of the waiting part. Before leaving Miami, she’d shipped one of her suitcases back home to New York; and the second, smaller bag of essentials she’d brought with her to California. She didn’t plan to stay in town long.

“Ms. Revere?” an elderly voice behind her asked.

Max turned and looked down at an older couple. The man, at least eighty and maybe five-foot-four in lifts, stood with his wife, who barely topped five feet. They both had white hair and blue eyes and would have looked like cherubs if their faces weren’t so deeply wrinkled.

Max smiled politely. “Yes, I’m Maxine Revere.” She expected them to ask for autographs or question what investigation brought her to California. The true crime show she hosted every month on cable television had been moving up in the ratings. When she only wrote newspaper articles and books, few people outside of the business knew what she looked like. Now that she was on camera, people approached her regularly.

There were pros and cons to being recognized. She was on a tight time schedule today, but the couple looked sweet.

“I told you, Henry,” the woman said to her husband. “I’m Penny Hoffman.” Mrs. Hoffman extended her hand nervously. It was cold, dry, and fragile, like the woman in front of her. “This is my husband, Henry. I knew it was you.” She gripped her purse tightly with both hands, the straps worn and frayed. “Do you believe in divine providence?”

Touchy subject. Max answered, “Sometimes.”

David was standing to the side, watching the situation. He was always on alert, even when it was wholly unnecessary. Ever since the incident in Chicago last year when Max had been attacked in a parking garage by someone who hadn’t wanted to hear the truth on her show, David was suspicious of everyone.

Even little old ladies.

“We just flew in from Phoenix,” Henry said.

“For our granddaughter’s wedding,” Penny added. “Last year, we were here for a funeral.”

“My condolences,” Max said.

Penny blinked back a sheen of tears and smiled awkwardly. “Our other grandchild. Jessica’s brother, Jason.”

“Penny,” Henry said, taking his wife’s hand, “Ms. Revere doesn’t want to hear about this now.”

Penny continued. “The police say they have no leads.”

The way she said no leads had Max’s instincts twitching. The police may have no leads they shared with family, but there was always a lead—and it was obvious by her tone that Penny had her own theories.

In Max’s experience, murder was almost always personal. There were stranger murders and serial killers, but they were few and far between. Most victims were killed by those they trusted most. A friend. A spouse. A parent. A child.

David cleared his throat. He grabbed Max’s red case from the conveyor belt. He’d already retrieved his smaller khaki bag. He wouldn’t have checked it at all, except he’d packed a gun.