Chapter 10 - PRESTON HALE TELLS THE TRUTH
Preston Hale disappeared for thirty-six hours.
His father assumed he was hiding from reporters.
Chase assumed he was drinking.
Owen knew better.
“He does that when he’s scared.”
Madeline looked at him.
“Disappears?”
“Pretends nothing exists.”
They were sitting in a conference room preparing evidence for federal investigators.
The story had moved far beyond internet humiliation.
Three agencies were now involved.
Carter Meridian had issued a voluntary disclosure.
Its stock had fallen twenty-one percent in one day.
Elias personally stepped down as chairman pending independent review.
The business channels called it a crisis.
Madeline called it Tuesday.
Owen stared at the table.
“Preston isn’t evil.”
Ethan looked skeptical.
“That wineglass offered a persuasive rebuttal.”
“I didn’t say good.”
Owen rubbed his face.
“I said not evil.”
Madeline waited.
Owen continued.
“His father raised him like affection was a quarterly bonus. Perform well, get attention. Embarrass him, get frozen out.”
“That does not excuse cruelty.”
“I know.”
“Then why tell me?”
“Because there’s something you need to understand about Bellweather.”
Owen looked at Madeline.
“Preston knows more than he realizes.”
They found him at the hotel.
Room 1807.
He opened the door wearing sweatpants and a Bellweather bathrobe.
For once, Preston Hale looked exactly twenty-six.
Young.
Hungover.
Terrified.
When he saw Madeline, shame crossed his face.
“You.”
“Yes.”
“I’m not pouring anything.”
Owen muttered, “Excellent start.”
Preston glared at him.
Madeline entered.
Empty bottles covered the desk.
Television screens displayed headlines about Carter Meridian and Bellweather.
Preston turned them off.
“My father told me not to speak to anyone.”
“Your father has made several questionable decisions.”
“That supposed to be funny?”
“No.”
He sat on the bed.
“What do you want?”
“The truth.”
“About the wine?”
“Eventually.”
He looked confused.
Madeline placed a photograph of Thomas Vale on the table.
Preston immediately looked away.
There.
Recognition.
“You know him.”
“No.”
“Preston.”
“Everybody knows him.”
“Not like that.”
His jaw tightened.
Ethan remained near the door.
Owen sat opposite his friend.
“Tell her.”
Preston stared at him.
“You brought them?”
“Yes.”
“You little traitor.”
Owen flinched.
Then something remarkable happened.
He did not retreat.
“No.”
His voice shook, but he continued.
“I was a coward at the gala.”
Preston laughed contemptuously.
“You laughed too.”
“Yes.”
The admission removed Preston’s weapon.
Owen’s eyes reddened.
“I laughed because I wanted you to think I belonged with you.”
Silence.
“I watched you humiliate her because I was scared you’d humiliate me next.”
Preston stared at him.
Owen swallowed.
“I’m done.”
Madeline saw Preston’s expression fracture.
Not repentance.
Not yet.
Loneliness.
She realized boys like Preston rarely had friends.
They had audiences.
Competitors.
Dependents.
People sharing the same expensive cage.
“Thomas Vale,” Madeline repeated.
Preston looked down.
“He used to come to our house.”
“How often?”
“A few times a year.”
“Why?”
“Business.”
“What kind?”
“I don’t know.”
“You never heard anything?”
Preston laughed bitterly.
“Adults don’t tell the useless son things.”
Madeline recognized something in that sentence.
A wound.
Then Preston looked at Owen.
“Remember Aspen?”
Owen frowned.
“What?”
“Winter after graduation.”
Owen’s expression changed.
“Oh.”
“What happened?” Madeline asked.
Preston stood and walked toward the minibar.
He reached for another bottle.
Then stopped.
“Vale was there.”
“At Aspen?”
“My father had a chalet.”
Preston’s voice became quieter.
“I got drunk. Went downstairs around three.”
“What did you see?”
“My father crying.”
Martin Hale.
The man Madeline had watched command ballrooms.
Crying.
“Vale was sitting across from him,” Preston continued. “There were photographs on the table.”
“What photographs?”
“People.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know. One was a woman.”
“Caroline?”
Preston shook his head.
“Older.”
Madeline showed him Helen’s picture.
He nodded immediately.
“That’s her.”
Her stomach tightened.
“What was Vale saying?”
Preston stared at the carpet.
“He told my father, ‘You’re still breathing because I’ve allowed you to confuse obedience with friendship.’”
Ethan exchanged a look with Madeline.
“What did your father say?”
“He said he wanted out.”
“Out of what?”
“I don’t know.”
“And Vale?”
Preston’s face changed.
“He said there was no out.”
The room fell silent.
Then Preston added:
“After Vale left, my father saw me.”
“What did he do?”
“He slapped me.”
Owen looked shocked.
“Your dad never—”
“He told me I hadn’t heard anything.”
Preston laughed once.
“I remember thinking he looked afraid of me.”
Madeline understood.
“Not afraid of you.”
“No.”
“Afraid for you.”
Preston nodded.
For the first time, his eyes filled.
“I think so.”
He wiped them angrily.
“Don’t make this into some redemption thing. I’m still the asshole who dumped wine over you.”
“I know.”
His eyes lifted.
“You hate me?”
Madeline thought about it.
“No.”
That surprised him.
“I don’t trust you. I don’t like you. And if you ever do something like that to anyone again, I hope somebody stops you before you finish.”
Preston almost smiled.
“But hate is expensive,” she said. “You’re not worth that much yet.”
Owen laughed.
Even Ethan failed to suppress one.
Preston shook his head.
Then became serious.
“There is something else.”
He walked to the closet.
From an old duffel bag, he removed a VHS cassette.
“My father gave me this four years ago.”
Madeline frowned.
“Why?”
“He was drunk. Said if anything happened to him, I should find someone named Caroline Carter.”
The room went still.
“She had already been dead thirteen years,” Madeline whispered.
“I know.”
“Did he know?”
“No.”
Preston looked genuinely ashamed.
“I googled her the next morning. Saw she was dead. Assumed Dad was wasted.”
He handed Madeline the tape.
“So I forgot about it.”
On the side, Martin Hale had written two words.
May you like
VALE — GARAGE.
The date beneath them was the night Caroline Carter died.
