Brent Sinatra: All of Me (20 page)

Makayla entered the Jericho Police Station feeling as if she
was groping in the dark.
 
The idea that
Ira would assign the case to her amazed her.
 
And for him to say that this case would be her defining case concerned
her.
 
Because he made it sound as if she
had to choose, and the choice wasn’t between right and wrong, but justice and
Brent.

And she still had so many questions.
 
What if it was all some big mistake?
 
Was some woman attempting to extort money out
of Brent and was pulling off this elaborate hoax?
 
And what if it was true, and Marcus was his
son?
 
What if he had to choose between
keeping Marcus by getting back with his mother?
 
What if he had to choose them over her?
 
Brent was the kind of man who would take care of his
responsibilities.
 
Of that she had no
doubt.
 
But that didn’t ease her
anxiety.
 
Because that same integrity
might force him to make an even tougher decision regarding the child
and
the child’s mother.
 
Makayla could be the odd woman out when it
was all said and done.
 
She let out a
hard exhale as the desk sergeant pointed her upstairs, and she made her way in
that direction.
 
This was not the way she
had ever envisioned her new life would begin.

When she walked up to Belma Finch’s desk on the second floor,
Belma smiled.
 
She liked Makayla. “Hey,
Mal,” she said.

“How are you?”

“Not bad for an old lady.
 
But I’m afraid the Chief is plenty busy this morning.”

“I’m not here for that.
 
I mean, I’m not here for personal reasons.
 
I’m here from the D.A.’s office regarding the
young suspect.”

“Oh.”
 
Belma was
surprised.
 
“Well, since you’re here on
official business, go on in.”

Makayla smiled a smile that didn’t reach her eyes, she was
too stressed to be that cavalier, as she knocked one time and then entered
Brent’s office.

Brent was seated on the sofa, leaned back, with Marcus seated
beside him.
 
Tony sat beside Brent.
 
When the two men looked up at the entrance,
and saw her, they both were surprised.

“Makayla,” Tony said, rising to his feet, as if he had forgotten
all about her.

Brent was surprised too.

“You can sit back down, Tone,” she said.
 
“I’m not here as future sister-in-law.
 
I’m here as Deputy D.A.”

Tony was amazed.
 
“Ira
assigned this case to you?”

“Yeah,” she said with a smile that appeared more nervous than
joyful.
 
“Can you imagine that?
 
But yeah.”
 
Her smile was gone.
 
She looked at
Brent and the boy.
 
“Hey, Marcus.”

Marcus waved at her.

Brent was staring at Makayla as she stared at his son.
 
He reached out his hand to her.
 
“Come here,” he said.

Tony moved out of the way as Makayla took Brent’s hand and
sat beside him and the boy.
 
He kept one
arm around his son, and placed the other arm around her.
 
She immediately felt a sense of comfort and
relief just sitting beside him.

Brent looked her dead in the eye.
 
“You okay?”

“I’m okay.”

“I’m just . . .”

“I can’t believe Ira would assign this case to you.”

“It’s shocking that’s for sure.
 
And I guess I’m still getting over it all,
you know?
 
For the longest time, while I
was driving over here, I kept hoping that it was some big mistake, and that all
we needed to do was have a DNA test to prove it.”
 
She looked at Marcus again.
 
“But his face proves it, Brent.”

“Ah,” Tony interjected as he leaned against Brent’s desk, “I
hate to drop some truth on you guys but looks are deceiving more often than you
think.
 
A child can look like a man and
not be any kin to him.”

“I agree,” Makayla said, looking at Tony.
 
Then she looked back at the boy.
 
“But there’s no deception here.
 
Looking at him is like looking at Brent.”

Brent knew it too.
 
He
pulled her closer against him, and stared at his son again too.

“And still no headway finding the mother?”
 
Makayla asked him.

Brent shook his head.
 
“Nothing.
 
I was able to contact
one more today, but no luck.
 
There’s more
than one possibility still out there.”

Makayla managed to smile.
 
“You mean I’m not the first brown sugar you’ve ever tasted?”

“Ha!” Tony said.
 
“I
hate to drop some truth on you guys again, but Brent could fill a phonebook on
how many---”

“That’s enough, Tony,” Brent said firmly, and then looked at
Makayla.
 
“He’s exaggerating.”

 
“What are we going to
do?” Makayla asked.

And the fact that she said
we
, as if they were in this together, warmed Brent’s heart.
 
He knew he had made the right choice when he
chose Mal.
 
“I took a DNA test because
Tony is right for once in his life.
 
It’s
already a certainty for me, but a test makes sense.”

“But what about the criminal investigation?
 
What are we going to do about that?
 
I read the report.
 
It’s very incriminating, Brent.”

“This boy didn’t harm anybody.
 
He’s a victim.
 
I don’t know why that man had him in that
motel room, but it wasn’t because he wanted to be there.”

Makayla was surprised by Brent’s justifications.
 
She’d never known him to dismiss obvious
evidence so easily.
 
But she’d also never
known him to be a father before either.

And she was right.
 
Once Brent held the little one in his arms, and touched him and smelled
him, it was over.
 
The bond was already
set.
 
Nobody was doing anything to harm
this child ever again.

His office door opened just as he was about to make that
point clear, and Eddie Rivers hurried in.
 
When he closed the door behind him, Brent knew he had news.

Eddie walked up to Brent, surprised that Makayla was
there.
 
“You aren’t representing the
D.A.’s office I hope,” he said.

“I am,” she said.

Eddie stared at her.
 
He would always have a soft spot for Makayla.
 
“How have you been?”

“I’ve been good, Eddie.
 
Thanks for asking.”

“What did you find out?” Brent asked him.

Eddie turned his attention back to his boss.
 
“We’ve identified the victim.”

That was more news than Brent had expected to hear this
early.
 
“And he is?”

“Marcus Stravinsky, although he goes by the name of Mark.”

Brent remembered how Marcus hated to be called Marc.
 
He looked at Marcus.
 
No response.
 
Brent frowned and shook his head.
 
“Never heard of him,” he said.

“Me neither,” Tony said.

“Who is he?” Brent asked.
 
“Is he from Jericho?”

Eddie smiled.
 
“He’s
none other than the Lieutenant Governor of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts.”

Everybody in the room were stunned.
 
“The Lieutenant Governor?” Brent needed to
make certain he heard Eddie correctly.

“What is the lieutenant governor of Massachusetts doing in
some rundown motel in Maine?” Tony asked.

“And not only that,” Eddie said.
 
“But he’s also a candidate for the senate in
this election cycle.”
 
More shock from
the room.
 
“Oh, yeah,” Eddie responded to
their unspoken surprise.
 
“He’s a United
States senate candidate.
 
So hold onto
your hats, folks.
 
This is about to be
some big-ass news.”

“But what is his connection to this little boy?” Makayla
asked.

“This boy, according to the Massachusetts State Police, is
his son.”

“His son?” Makayla asked.
 
“His adopted son?”

“Biological son,” Eddie corrected her.
 
“I asked them that specifically.
 
His name is Marcus Stravinsky, Junior, and
both father and son were reported missing late last night.”

Brent squeezed Makayla tighter as he asked the all-important
question.
 
“Who is his mother?”

Eddie looked at the notepad he had in his hand.
 
“Her name is hyphened.”

“What’s the name, man?” Tony asked impatiently.
 
He was as nervous as Brent and Makayla.

Eddie flipped a page.
 
“Here it is.
 
Her name is Denise
Donahue-Stravinsky,” he said.
 
And then
he looked up again.
 
It was obvious that
Makayla had never heard of her.
 
It was
also obvious that Brent and Tony had.

“Denise,” Tony said, shaking his head.

“Denise,” Brent said, shaking his head too.

“We should have known,” Tony said.
 

“I didn’t get a reaction out of him when I said her name,”
Brent remembered.
 
“I got a reaction out
of him when I said Candace’s name.”

“Or,” Tony said, “a late reaction.
 
Since you said Candace’s name after Denise’s,
maybe you were getting a delayed reaction from him.
 
He heard his mother’s name, digested it, and
then reacted.
 
Ever so slightly he
reacted, but I saw a reaction too.”

“I take it this Denise is on the list?” Makayla asked Brent.

Brent nodded.
 
“She’s
on the list,” he said.
 
She was among the
ones who broke his heart.
 
Then he looked
at Eddie.
 
“Is she on the way?”

“Oh, yes.
 
The
governor’s office will be flying her up in a helicopter.
 
She should be here within the hour.”

Brent knew time was of the essence now.
 
“If Denise is anything like she used to be,
she may not want the truth to come out.”

“Or,” Tony said, remembering Denise himself, “she may welcome
it.
 
It’ll all depend on which scenario
works best for her.
 
Because make no
mistake about it: it’s going to be all about Denise in the end.”

And Brent and Makayla looked at each other.
 
Because they understood the stakes.
 
It was one thing for the boy to be accused of
killing some random man, a man who Brent was assuming had kidnapped him.
 
It was another thing entirely to be accused
of killing a high-level, presumably above-reproach government official.
 
And if Brent remembered Denise the way he was
remembering her now, he knew that she was not the kind of woman who would keep
this low key.
 
She was going to blare
this out.
 
She was going to play it for
all she could play it for, and then play it for more.
 
She wanted to stir up the wind.

Brent looked down at the boy beside him.
 
His prayer to God was that this child, his
son, would not reap the whirlwind.

They began walking toward Belma’s desk like an army brigade,
with Denise leading the charge.
 
Belma
stood to her feet.
 
It was her job to run
interference for her boss, and today would be no exception.

“May I help you?” she asked.

Denise pointed.
 
“Is
that Brent’s office?”

“It is Chief Sinatra’s office, yes.
 
May I help you?”

Denise looked at Belma.
 
“No,” she said, went to Brent’s office door and opened it, and went
inside.

But Belma hurried behind her and closed the door.
 
“One at a time,” she said to the others. “If
they need you, they’ll call you.”

But as soon as Denise entered Brent’s office and saw her
child in his arms, she had all she needed inside that office.
 
“Markie!” she cried, and ran toward her son.

Marcus’ big green eyes flew wide open when he heard his
mother’s voice, and he looked at her.
 
But it was telling to Brent that he didn’t go to her.

“Oh, my baby!” Denise had tears in her eyes as she pulled her
son into her arms and cradled him, even though he was almost as big as she
was.
 
“I miss you so much!”

Brent stood up, and so did Makayla.
 
Tony walked over and stood beside Eddie.
 
They all wanted to get a look at Denise, all
for their own reasons.

Eddie wanted to see what a Lieutenant Governor’s wife looked
like, and was pleasantly surprised to see that she was African-American.

Tony first met Denise when she worked for the Jericho Inn Bed
and Breakfast, and he was the one who introduced her to Brent.
 
He wanted to see a difference in her.
 
She was so immature and foolish when they
first met that even he, who wasn’t exactly Mister Responsible like Brent back
then, found her surprisingly childish too.
 
But that was a decade ago.
 
She
certainly looked the role of a more mature woman now.
 
But beauty-wise and body-wise, which
everybody viewed as her strengths back then, she hadn’t changed one bit.

Brent wanted to see how she interacted with the boy.
 
He could tell she loved the boy.
 
She seemed overwhelmed with joy and other
emotions only a mother could probably explain.
 
The child, Marcus, showed recognition, and some relief too.
 
But it wasn’t at all the kind of unbridled
emotion Brent would have expected a child, who had been through the ordeal
Marcus had been through, to display toward his mother.
 
That reaction, or lack of reaction form
Marcus, concerned Brent the most.

As Denise continued to shake Marcus as if he was a lap baby
and kiss his smooth cheeks, she also turned her attention to Brent.
 
When they first met, she thought he was the
best looking man she’d ever seen.
 
That
flowing raven hair.
 
Those intense green
eyes.
 
That body.
 
But what astonished her was that he was even
better looking now in his mid-thirties than he looked in his mid-twenties, when
they were an item.
 
That amazed her.

What also amazed her was how vividly she remembered him.
 
Not that she had forgotten him.
 
She never did.
 
She still had dreams about how he used to do
her; how he used to take her into his big arms, put that monster-sized cock
inside of her, and fuck her like it was nobody’s business.
 
And how he used to treat her like a
queen.
 
He was the only good man she’d
ever known.
 
He was the only man who
could give her a great life, great sex, and a great future.
 
She still hated herself for leaving him to
run back to Mark.
 
She shed even more
tears just thinking about how much she hated that fateful decision she made
that long, cold decade ago.

“I want to thank you, Brent,” she said to him, “for looking
out for my child.
 
You don’t know what
that means to me to know that he was in your care.
 
Thank you so much.”

“His name is Marcus?” Brent asked her.

Denise felt almost embarrassed that she had taken her
attention away from her child.
 
“Yes,”
she said, looking back down at her son.
 
“His name is Marcus.
 
We call him
Markie.”
 
Then she looked at Makayla.

Brent immediately placed his hand on the small of Makayla’s
back and moved her forward.
 
“This is
Makayla Ross,” he said.

“Hello, Mrs. Stravinsky,” Makayla said. “I’m the Deputy
District Attorney for Jericho County.
 
I’m so sorry we had to meet under such terrible circumstances.”

“You’re the D.A.?” Denise asked.

“And my fiancée,” Brent said.

Tony looked hard at Denise when Brent made that
declaration.
 
Although her facial
expression seemed unchanged, there was a flicker of alarm in her eyes that
barely registered.
 
But Tony caught it.

“Oh,” Denise responded.
 
“Your fiancée?
 
How nice.”

“And this fellow right here,” Brent said, “is Captain Eddie
Rivers.
 
A good friend and a good cop.”

“Nice to meet you, ma’am,” Eddie said with a nod of the head.

“Nice to meet you.”

“And I’m sure you remember my brother Anthony,” Brent said.

Denise smiled.
 
“Of
course I remember Tony,” she said.
 
“How
have you been, stranger?”

“I’ve been good.
 
But
let me echo what Mal said.
 
I wish we
would have met again under different circumstances.”

“Yes,” Denise said, angry with herself for forgetting to show
total contrition again.
 
But her look
changed on a dime.
 
She was the
contrition queen once more.
 
“They said
my husband,” she said, the tears returning.
 
“They said they found him . . . that he---”

“Come and sit down, Denise,” Brent said to her as he took her
arm and helped her take a seat on the couch.

“What happened?” she asked Brent after she, with her son
still in her arms, were seated.
  
“I’ve
heard such awful things.
 
Please tell me
what happened.”

“Tony, why don’t you take Marcus to sit with Belma until we
finish here.”

“Sure thing,” Tony said.
 
“If it’s okay with Denise.”

Denise nodded her okay and was about to hand over Marcus as
if he was a small baby.

“He can walk,” Brent said, causing Tony and Makayla both to
look at him.
 
And Brent knew it was a
contradiction since he had been cradling the boy since they met, but that was
because he was a brand new baby to Brent.
 
Brent’s
brand new baby.
 
But cuddling time was over.

“And see if you can get him to eat something,” Brent added as
Tony took Marcus by the hand and began walking him out of the office.

When they left, Brent held out the chair for Makayla to sit
down, and he sat down himself.
 
Eddie
remained standing.
 
“Would you care for anything
to drink?” Brent asked Denise.

“No, I’m fine.”

“I tried to get Marcus to eat, but he wouldn’t touch a
thing.
 
He did drink a juice just before
you arrived, but that’s been it.”

“I have to force-feed him on a good day.
 
He has never been a big eater.”

He was scrawny, Brent thought, and that concerned him too.

“But please tell me what’s going on,” Denise said.
 
“What really happened?”

“He had my name in his pocket,” Brent said.

Denise looked confused.
 
“Your name?”

“Yes.
 
Brent Sinatra,
Jr. was written on a slip of paper and was placed in his pocket.
 
Do you know anything about that?”

“No.
 
Why would anybody
do something like that?
 
That makes no
sense,” she said, as if the obvious resemblance to Brent was no resemblance at
all.
 
“None of this does.”

“Did you know they were coming to Jericho?” Brent asked her.

“No.
 
I had no
idea.
 
That’s why this is all so
confusing to me.
 
They were going to
Kennebunkport, on a fishing trip.
 
How
did they get to Jericho?
 
Please tell me
what happened.”

Brent exhaled and gave in.
 
She had a right to know the full story.
 
“Eddie, Captain Rivers here, discovered the body.”
 
Brent looked at his second-in-command.
 
“Tell her what you found.”

Eddie hated to be the one to tell her.
 
No wife and mother should ever have to hear
what he had to tell her.
 
“I responded to
a disturbance call,” he said.
 
“At a
motel.
 
The Super Fin motel.
 
When I arrived, along with two of our
uniformed officers, we found your son sitting beside the body of a white
male.
 
Your husband.
 
The butchered body of your husband.”

Tears reappeared in Denise’s eyes.
 
Eddie looked at Brent.
 
Brent nodded for him to continue.

“Your son, ma’am, had a knife in his hand.”

“A knife?” Denise asked.

“A knife that was still dripping fresh blood.”

Denise shook her head with a puzzled look on her face.
 
“What are you trying to say?” she asked.
 
She looked from Eddie to Brent to Makayla,
and then back at Brent.
 
“What is he
saying, Brent?”

Brent exhaled and leaned forward.
 
He clasped his hands together.
 
Makayla could feel his anguish.
 
“Marcus had the murder weapon in his hand,”
she said.

Denise’s eyes stretched wide.
 
“The murder weapon?
 
Are you
saying. . . are you implying that Marcus, that my son could have . . .?
 
Oh, hell no!
 
I know better than that!”

“I’m only telling you the facts,” Brent said.
 
“We’re not making any judgments about
anything yet.
 
But the facts are the
facts.”

“I’ll show you the facts,” Denise said with anger in her
voice.
 
She stood up, hurried to the
exit, and opened the office door.
 
Marcus
was surrounded by the staffers who arrived with Denise, with Tony sitting
beside Belma at Belma’s desk.
 
Denise
called for her son.
 
Marcus looked, and
then went to his mother.
 
Denise closed
the door back and walked back to the sofa.
 
She sat down, with Marcus sitting beside her.

“This isn’t necessary, Denise,” Brent said.

“Oh, yes it is.
 
If
you’re going to call my son a murderer, he’s going to have the right to defend
himself.”
 
She looked at her son.
 
“Markie, did you hurt Daddy in any way?” she
asked him.

Makayla moved to the edge of her seat with concern.
 
She looked at Brent.

“Let me handle it, Denise,” Brent said.

“Answer the question, Marcus,” Denise said to her son.
 
“Did you harm Daddy in any way?”

When the boy was about to respond, Makayla interjected.
 
She knew, if he said anything incriminating,
she could hold it against him in a court of law.
 
“Mrs. Stravinsky,” she said, interrupting
Marcus, “I would strongly advise you to seek the advice of an attorney before
you allow him---”

   
“You don’t advise
me of anything,” Denise snapped at Makayla.
 
“This is my child, not yours!”

“She didn’t say it was hers,” Brent snapped back.
 
“I know this is a difficult time for you, but
she had nothing to do with it.
 
You treat
her with respect.”

“Oh, so I’m the bad guy now?” Denise asked.
 
“Some trick gets to tell me how to handle my
own child and you expect me to just let her?”

“Some trick?” Eddie said, amazed that she had gone there with
Brent’s woman.
 
He looked at Brent.
 
Brent was staring at Denise.