A DAY LATER, I was pacing the living room of the hotel suite. Outside the open draperies and stories below, Savannah bustled. Even though it was November, the tourists continued to walk the cobblestone streets and browse the shops. As a child I’d never understood the fascination. Now after traveling and living elsewhere, I did. Compared to New York, the Georgia air was balmy and the historical heritage that I’d taken for granted gave visitors days of sightseeing opportunities.

There were even Christmas decorations beginning to line the streets and sparkle in windows.

The new phone in my hand vibrated with the text I’d been waiting for.

Deloris: “TWO O’CLOCK AT THE SAVANNAH-CHATHAM POLICE DEPARTMENT. YOU’RE MEETING WITH DETECTIVE PAMELA MEANS. DARYL OWEN WILL ACCOMPANY YOU AND CHELSEA.”

I exhaled. I’d prefer Nox by my side, but legal counsel would be best. Other than having Mr. Owen beside me, I planned to appear the naïve heiress until the time was right to show my hand.

Deloris and Nox spent hours on the Batplane and again in the hotel suite last night explaining my grandfather’s will. I needed to learn to accept their information instead of question it, yet at times like this it was difficult. It took me time to wrap my mind around the idea that Nox, Oren, and Deloris had secured a document that I’d never seen and my mother hadn’t seen until recently.

Granted, the implications of the document were far-reaching, going way beyond my marriage and inheritance. There were pages, articles, and sections devoted to Montague Corporation, the structure and divisions. I wasn’t the naïve girl Alton made me out to be, but quite honestly, it was beyond my understanding. My undergraduate degree in political science and business gave me some foundation, but what my grandfather had engineered was not a typical business structure.

As a family-owned-and-operated company, there was a provision that allowed the subsidiaries to be publicly traded. That was a substantial portion of the corporation. As publicly traded commodities under the Montague umbrella, news of Bryce’s arrest in connection with our marriage would most certainly affect the value of the stock. Nox and Oren had people watching the numbers.

I’d never expected to care about Montague Corporation, but knowing now that my mother had the right to the company, I did. Unfortunately, the arrest of Edward Carmichael Spencer was the headline on many cable financial networks as well as publications questioning his connection to Montague Corporation. Even the Montague machine couldn’t keep the news hidden. After all, a body had been found.

The bit of news we didn’t see on either TV or the Internet was talk of my marriage. They discussed the engagement party on the night of Bryce’s arrest but that was the extent of it. Nox, however, had seen the license. Even the police had referred to me as Mrs. Spencer, but sometime since Saturday night, that information seemed to disappear. No doubt it would be considered less significant than Bryce’s arrest and the discovery of Melissa’s body. There was even one broadcast that showed protesters outside the gates of Carmichael Hall.

Perhaps Deloris had been right and we wouldn’t need to fight the marriage.

It was the infrastructure and the governing board of directors of Montague Corporation that interested Deloris and Nox. I’d been surprised to learn that the board was elected. That was until they explained that the structure currently in place only allowed the shareholders to vote upon and elect the board.

Montague Corporation had few shareholders. Nearly ninety-percent of the stock was owned by my mother and me. All of our shares were managed by Alton. While on his own he had no rights, he held the legal power of attorney as Momma’s husband and my fiduciary guardian. With that power, he’d elected the board of directors. That board of directors had named him CEO.

Quid pro quo at its finest.

If my marriage to Bryce never occurred or was annulled, without the codicil Montague Corporation and all Montague assets would revert to Fitzgerald Investments—Alton would be financially set. With the codicil, Montague assets would revert to the rightful heirs, Momma and me. However, the corporation was different. With the codicil in effect, the board of directors would be dissolved and Montague Corporation would become a publicly traded entity.

According to Nox, the news of Bryce’s arrest, in conjunction with our engagement party and being named heir apparent of Montague Corporation, could most likely produce one of two possible outcomes. First, when the stock became public, Mother and I could purchase the shares at a seemingly reduced price and maintain control. As the primary stockholders, we would receive the right to any remaining assets after liquidation. In essence, we would buy Montague Corporation from ourselves and reap the profit as well as the loss.

In the second scenario, we could lose control of the corporation to investors ready to pounce on a wounded but historically profitable entity. Theoretically, anyone, including Alton, could purchase the controlling interest.

Both Nox and Deloris wanted me to understand my grandfather’s will in its entirety before meeting with Ralph. They were convinced that Alton would try to manipulate things to his advantage. We just had no idea how far he’d go.

DARYL OWEN WAS a tall, handsome man with dark chocolate colored skin. He appeared younger than Ralph and Alton, but older than Nox.

“Miss Collins, it’s nice to meet you.”

I smiled at his greeting, thankful to hear Collins instead of Spencer. “Thank you for helping us.”

A little after noon, he joined Chelsea, Nox, Deloris, and me in the hotel suite to prepare us for our meeting. While we knew from the chatter that Deloris had heard that Ralph Porter wanted our statements, it was decided that our help could be best given to the state in building its case.

Mr. Owen wanted Chelsea and me to know that his presence was specifically to help us stay on topic and avoid giving more information than necessary. Our statements weren’t under oath nor were they testimony. Neither of us was on trial. We were simply witnesses who were both in contact with Bryce on the day before the murder. I was also with him on Saturday night. The police were working on establishing a timeline before the arraignment.

Undoubtedly, Hamilton and Porter would want to speak to us too. Mr. Owen advised we wait until after the meeting with the detective. More than likely, it would be the prosecutor who could benefit from our testimony. Ralph just didn’t know that yet.

The unofficial nature of this meeting was why our voluntary appearance at the police station was important. It was why we’d flown back to Savannah.

“I’ve verified that Mr. Spencer will not be present,” Mr. Owen said.

My pulse quickened as I looked to Chelsea.

“We thought he was still in jail,” Nox said.

“He is; the arraignment is tomorrow morning.”

“Tomorrow? We assumed it would be today,” Deloris commented.

Mr. Owen nodded. “The state requested time. They have up to seventy-two hours to file. Even Hamilton and Porter can’t force them to file faster. There won’t be a bail hearing until after the arraignment.”

I thought about Melissa, something I hadn’t done before. It was probably the news coverage. I’d seen her picture multiple times. She was young and pretty, a simple Midwestern beauty. The newspeople were playing that up: an innocent college freshman who made the mistake of getting involved with an older man. The assumption was hilarious. They were painting Bryce as the older man. It was the same argument I’d used when Bryce first asked for my help, when I’d been appalled at her youth. In reality, Bryce was eight years her senior, but she’d been living with a much older man.

It wasn’t that man’s primary residence. That was with his wife. According to the news, this unnamed man was a family friend who traveled to the Chicago area routinely for business. Since his apartment sat empty when he wasn’t there, he allowed Melissa to stay there. Though the media tried to make more out of it, nothing had been uncovered.

“You expect there to be bail?” I asked.

“Given the defendant and his connections, yes.”

“But surely the severity of the charges…”

“Miss Collins, this is still Savannah. He is still being funded by Montague money. All Hamilton and Porter needs to do is convince Mr. Spencer to plead not guilty and persuade the judge that he’s not a danger to society…” He looked at Chelsea; her bruised cheek had faded to green and yellow, but it was still evident. “…nor a flight risk. If they can do that, they can request bail.”

“What if he is a danger?” Chelsea asked.

Mr. Owen nodded. “That’s what can be discussed today, unofficially.”

We’d hoped to slip into the police station unnoticed. As we pulled up to the curb, it was obvious that wouldn’t happen. The sidewalk was lined with reporters and along the street were various large trucks with station letters painted on the side.

Clayton brought the limousine to a stop in front of the chaos.

Nox reached for my hand. “Princess, I want to go in there with you.”

“I think it’ll add to the rumors. After all, we still don’t know if I’m supposedly married.”

“I know you can do this.”

I took a deep breath, filling my senses with his woodsy cologne and my vision with his blue gaze. “I’ll be fine.” I looked over at Chelsea. “We’ll be fine.”

“Deloris and I will be with you the only way we can.”

He was saying they’d be listening to every word, but with Daryl Owen in the car, he couldn’t be that blunt.

My necklace had been improved. Actually, I now had two. One with and one without an audible connection. The feature I’d requested not be present was now available on my new necklace. It looked identical to the first, a platinum diamond-dusted cage holding a glistening pearl. Just like the first one, the pearl wasn’t a pearl, but a translucent transmitter. In the necklace I was wearing, it transmitted not only my location, but included an audio transmission. The range was impressive.

“And while Mr. Owen is beside you,” Nox said, “Isaac will be too.”

I nodded. Hadn’t there been a time when I didn’t want Nox’s men with me?

“You won’t be getting in any cars besides this one when this meeting is over.”

I leaned forward and brushed my lips to his. “I believe that was rule number one on your most recent list, Mr. Demetri. I just want to get back to New York.”

“Hopefully tonight.”

“Before that bail hearing,” Chelsea added.

Reaching for her hand, I smiled. “Girl, are we ready to get this dog-and-pony show going?”

The remnants of an old spark shone in her hazel eyes. “And then it’s a jail break back to New York.”

I squeezed her hand. “Damn right. I seem to recall you kick ass at those.”

“I did. Just maybe I will again.”