Beauty and the Beast (32 page)

“I can’t believe this!” Roy tossed the report Janis had sent him into the air. The pages littered the floor of Catherine’s office. “That site is perfect for a resort. How can he turn it down? How could he do this?”

“Calm down.”

“I will not calm down. He’s been dicking us along. He never intended on giving the site a chance. If he had, he wouldn’t have sent his secretary. His freaking secretary, for Christ sakes!” He slammed his fist on her desk.

“Janis is his assistant, not his secretary.”

He shook his head. “That’s it. She set me up!”

“Who?”

“Tee. I told you how she came on to me. The other day when I called her, she handed the phone to Maxwell. The next thing I know, he’s no longer interested in the other site.”

The way she stared at him made him feel uneasy, but what he’d said was the truth. The only part he couldn’t figure out was why Tee had done this.
She must like playing some sick game. I’ll show her!

“You aren’t serious,” she finally said. “What possessed you to call her? And how did you get her number?”

“How I got her number doesn’t matter. What matters is this was all part of his plan to distract us while he convinces the other stockholders to sell to him.”

“You’re losing it.” Face drawn and shoulders slumped, she leaned back in her executive chair. “I’m going to sell him my stock.”

“No! You can’t.”

She slowly lifted her gaze to Roy. “What do you suggest I do? If I leave now, at least I still have my pride.”

“Dixon Textiles belongs to our family. You can’t just throw it away. We have to fight.”

“You should have thought of that before you sold us out.” She pushed away from the desk and stalked to her second story window.

None of this was his fault, but he knew this wasn’t the time to point that out. Instead, he went to her side and said what he knew she wanted to hear. “I’m sorry, Catherine.”

“You’re always sorry.” She leaned her head against the window. “We’ve lost our home, our heritage, and you expect a word to make things better. Well I’m sorry, but sorry doesn’t get it.”

From the window, he could see the main Dixon estate. Many said the main house looked like a smaller version of the White House. When he and Catherine were children, their mother would host a children’s party each season. In the fall, the estate was decorated with the ghost and goblins of Halloween. In the winter, the evergreens sparkled with Christmas lights and reindeer and elves could be found. Come spring, the Easter bunny would have pastel ribbons of blue, green, yellow and pink strewn across the balconies and banisters, but the part he’d loved most was the Easter egg hunts that were open to the community. Finally, there was summer. Red, white, and blue formed the main color scheme and Old Glory could be found throughout the property. The yearly Dixon fireworks show was the largest in the county, some even said the largest in the state.

After Catherine graduated from college and took over as CEO of Dixon Textiles, she’d resumed the seasonal celebrations. Sadness settled in his heart. He had to stop them from taking Catherine’s joy. Even though he had sold the initial stock, it was his father’s fault for goading him. He had been angry and Bruce had taken advantage of him. Then Tee had manipulated him with her games. In his eyes, he was just as much the victim as Catherine. Maybe even more so, because now the family would blame him for losing such an important symbol of their heritage.

“Maxwell doesn’t need our land,” he said softly. “It’s like you told me. He gets pleasure from buying companies and tearing them apart. He’s one sick bastard.”

“It doesn’t matter, Roy.”

“He has to be stopped. We can’t let him win.”

“He’s already won. You ensured that.”

“No!”

“I can’t speak to you right now. Please leave.”

He stared at his sister. She’d been mad at him countless number of times, but she’d never shut him out. “But Cath—”

“Damn, Roy, haven’t you done enough? Just leave me the hell alone!”

The following week the trial started.

“It’s time,” the bailiff said from the doorway that led to the courtroom.

The judge had been compassionate enough to allow Nefertiti and Bruce to wait in his chambers until it was time for her to testify. She couldn’t believe all of the media coverage. She’d even seen a CNN truck in the mix. To her chagrin, cameras were allowed in the courtroom. The thought of unveiling to the world made her cringe.

Bruce tapped her forehead with his knuckle. “What’s going on in there?”

“I’ll just be glad when this is over.” She slipped the sunglasses on. Today she’d chosen to wear bright white from veil to toe and her hair in a huge afro-puff pulled back by a white headband.

“I’ll be behind the prosecution.” In a show of support, Bruce wore a white suit. “Watch me. No matter what, do not turn toward Butch.”

Sticking with the blind act, she extended her walking cane. “Let’s do this.”

The bailiff led her to the stand. She was sworn in, but nothing seemed real. The courtroom wasn’t overfilled, there weren’t television cameras lining the walls, the pictures of the woman displayed on the easels were not of her bloodied, beaten and broken; five women and seven men were not deciding the fate of the savage who had attacked her… She closed her eyes, then opened them, but she was still in this unreal place.

“Miss Townes, are you all right?”

She stared at the prosecutor. Just like out of an episode of Law and Order, he wore a dark suit. She waited for the director to yell cut, but it never happened.

“Miss Townes, I know this is difficult for you.” He stepped to the side, and she saw Bruce.

“Bruce,” she said under her breath and lowered her head.

Prosecutor Givens continued speaking, but she could only understand part of what he said. She wanted them to take the pictures away. If she were the defense, no way would she have allowed the pictures to remain.

“... so we need for you to tell us what happened that night.”

“What happened that night?” Even to her ears, her voice sounded more horse than usual. Her hand automatically went to her throat. Many in attendance gasped as she traced the horizontal scar that marred her elegant neck. “He slashed my throat.” She’d fainted by the time he’d slit her throat, but her voice was a constant reminder.

“Do you know how he entered your home?”

“The police said he broke in. I had forgotten my driver’s license in my other purse. I rushed into the apartment to grab it, and he jumped out of the bedroom at me.” She could see his huge filthy hands going for her throat. “I couldn’t scream.”

As Nefertiti recounted the events of that night, she watched Bruce. The pain and rage he barely contained simmered behind his eyes. The prosecutor asked her to describe her attacker, which was easy. She’d never forget. She’d bet his attorney had had him shave, cut his hair and take several baths. Nefertiti hadn’t glanced his way. If she saw him, she knew she’d crack. She fought against the urge to stare at the monster who tried to take her life.

“Thank you, Miss Townes.” Givens faced the jury. “The prosecution rests.”

The defense attorney reminded her of a loving, cuddly soccer mom. She hadn’t objected to anything Nefertiti had said, but Givens had told her to expect that. The defense didn’t want the jury to view them as attacking Nefertiti.

“I’m sorry that you have to go through this, Miss Townes. You’ve been through so much.”

A few sympathetic sighs spread across the courtroom.

“And I don’t mean to cause you more pain, but I must ask a few questions that I know will be difficult for you to answer.”

Nefertiti focused on Bruce and the message he was sending with his eyes. “I’m here. You’re here. Let’s do this.”

Anxiety-laced snickers skittered about. After a few seconds, everyone settled and the room became quiet.

“According to reports, during the course of the assault, your attacker slashed your eyes—”

Groans and the sound of people shuffling in their seats interrupted the proceedings.

“Order,” called the judge. “Order.”

With her eyes closed tight, Nefertiti removed the sunglasses and set them in her lap. A new round of groans and gasps filled the room.

She traced the scars from above her brow to below her eye. Her eyes burned, and her tears did nothing to cool them. She unlatched the veil from her ears, and allowed it to fall.

“I’m so sorry to do this, Miss Townes, but you’ve identified my client as the monster who attacked you. The description you gave matches him, but it also matches countless numbers of others.” She paused. “Are you a hundred percent sure that my client is the man who attacked you?”

“Yes.” Nefertiti opened her eyes. “I am a hundred percent sure that,” she leaned to the left and pointed around the attorney at Butch, “he is the monster who tried to murder me.”

“That bitch can see!” Butch leapt to his feet.

 
“She can see!” Dennis fiddled with his earpiece, then yanked a few dress shirts out of his closet. “Did you hear me, Jay? Nefertiti has her sight.” He couldn’t believe what a fool he’d made of himself the other day when he’d seen her at Maxwell Manor. He tossed the shirts at the suitcase on his bed and returned to the closet. “Butch is going to talk, man. Pretty soon the cops will be after you also.”

“What’s Marco up to?”

“I’m supposed to be finding you, so he’s backed off for now.” He grabbed slacks and a few pairs of shoes. “The other week Redman gave me twenty grand, and I ran it up to eighty at the tables. I’m hot, man.”

“Don’t you dare blow it!”

“I won’t. I won’t.” He dropped the slacks on the bed and shoes on the floor. “I’ll only take ten grand with me. I should be able to run it up again.” He rubbed his hands together. “I’m hot. I’m serious. I’m really hot.”