With today’s heroics, Zy had more than absolved himself. She nodded in return.

  Then Madison turned her glare to Todd and leaned toward the microphone. “Was she old enough to consent? The French attaché’s daughter you’ve forced yourself on isn’t. She’s barely sixteen. How many of you out there have teenage girls? How many of you would be outraged if a man who’s pushing thirty wanted to touch her like this?”

  Mothers everywhere looked horrified and angry. Fathers started to yell. A few clambered onto the stage with violence on their faces. The police finally made a move, but Nash and Ethan put a stop to any altercation before it started.

  “I have film of him with the diplomat’s daughter hidden away, if you’d like to see it later,” Madison told Winston’s voters. “I didn’t reveal it because our esteemed journalists”—she pointed to the press corps in the middle of the crowd—“have been threatened and paid off not to reveal these things to you. Notice they’ve turned their cameras off in the past few minutes?”

  Voters whirled, closing in on the dozen members of the press who found themselves surrounded and wary.

  “Turn them on. Turn them on. Turn them on,” one man started chanting.

  The crowd joined in, getting louder and louder. One cameraman lifted his equipment and tried to run, but the wall of angry people blocked his path and nudged him back to the grassy spot he’d vacated. Sweating now, the coward set up his tripod. One by one, all the cameras started rolling again.

  Near Madison, the stunned newscaster blinked at his phone. When she leaned over to view his screen, she understood why. The viewership had jumped from a few hundred thousand to nearly two million.

  A giddy relief swept through Madison. Finally, people were getting the truth. And her three-year nightmare was nearly over. With public pressure and appropriate outrage, Todd Pershing should go down for Brent’s murder. Winston and Agatha couldn’t stop her from divorcing him.

  “How dare you backstab your family.” Agatha squeezed her arm. “We accepted you. We gave you everything⁠—”

  “Beyond nice clothes, what? Subjugation? Censorship? Suffocation? You, more than anyone, made sure the press never told the voters the truth about the Pershing empire.”

  “Tell the folks what you know, Madison,” Genie encouraged.

  Madison took the microphone and glared at Agatha. “You played games of semantics to candy-coat reality while you shuffled both cash and favors to make sure that your husband’s constituents never learned about his backdoor dealings and insider trading schemes. You also made voters think that Winston would solve their problems, but he had no intention of doing that because then he’d have nothing to run on. Wake up, people. Trash like this is running your country, and I’m ashamed that I let myself be afraid for so long.”

  The crowd cheered for her, emboldening Madison to go on.

  “But the problem with the Pershings is far bigger than Todd’s predilection for young girls and Agatha’s manipulation of the press. Or even lying to you about Brent Westbrook’s murder for votes. In case you hadn’t guessed, Winston and Montrose intended to start a lucrative side business of mining the data from the devices they mandated you pay for and install in your cars. That, not safety or a tribute, was their true motive.”

  The crowd booed and jeered again, looking angrier by the minute. She felt the wall of sentiment swinging away from the Pershings—and it was glorious.

  “They also coerced me into lying to you today. Yep. Todd drugged me at the last public event. He injected me on stage to get your attention and scare me into backing down. So this afternoon, I was supposed to convince you that Todd got me pregnant. But I haven’t let him touch me in over a year. By the way, they’d already chosen the event where they would announce the horrible news that I had miscarried. They scheduled it just before the election for maximum sympathy votes, of course. All lies. All disgusting. I’m sorry I ever let myself be threatened into compliance. Never, ever again.”

  Madison lowered the mic and found Matt behind her. Looking at him hurt. She still loved him, even if he’d moved on. They wouldn’t end up together. But she had to thank him for making this emancipating moment possible. He’d promised he would free her from this marriage—and he’d kept his word. “Thank you for this.”

  He shook his head. “We’re not done. You deserve more justice. So do all the victims. Anything else you want to get off your chest before we drop more truth bombs?”

  She would probably think of a thousand things later, but in this moment, she only had one. “Please tell me you can directly implicate Winston.”

  Speaking of…the old man had gotten awfully quiet. A glance back told her why. Logan Edgington and Joaquin Muñoz each had a hold of Winston’s shoulders and held a hand behind his back. Another guy with piercing black eyes and a dark beard—Kane?—detained Montrose.

  It was a sweet sight.

  “Trust, honey. I’m never going to let you down.” A slow smile spread across Matt’s face. “Ever. Hand that mic to Genie, and we’ll prove it.”

  With giddy glee whizzing through her system, Madison settled the handheld into Genie’s palm. “You got this.”

  An avenging gleam lit the older woman’s eyes. “Oh, I do. Time to drive a stake through this monster’s heart.” Then she raised the mic again. “Give Madison a round of applause for her courage in coming forward. She did a great job.”

  The audience cheered and whistled for her. She waved, then pressed a hand to her heart in the face of their understanding and approval.

  Then, with a smile, Genie carried on. “This is a great day for the truth. If you hadn’t already guessed, none of Todd’s escapades would have been possible without at least the implied approval of Senator Pershing. In fact, he’s not only taught Todd to navigate the DC swamp, but he eventually paved the way for a business that netted them both millions of dollars over the past seven years. When I examined Brent’s computer, with a lot of help from my new favorite tech guru”—she waved at someone in an AV booth Madison recognized from sheer size as Trees—“I found the entire scheme. It took me a while and some expert help”—she glanced at Matt, who tipped his hat—“to understand. But here’s the gist.”

  Genie flipped to the next slide, revealing a spider web of shell corporations and a perplexing pattern of money transfers that, when whittled down, led directly to Todd and Brent. From there, she revealed a slide like a family tree with the boys at the top. Below them, was a quartet of “handlers,” who moved the “product” from the border to DC. Below those four were a dozen agents stationed at various borders and crossover points, all on the take. At the bottom were a small army of hired thugs and coyotes who pinpointed impoverished victims, mostly from small villages or migrant caravans all over Central America and Mexico and plucked them from their homes and families. Genie produced a dizzying array of communication records, text messages, and electronic files of “purchases” and the staggering amounts these young, attractive victims fetched.

  “Everything I uncovered is beyond horrible. And I know this is a lot of data, but if you’ll bear with me for a few more minutes…”

  Madison looked over at the chalky newscaster. His screen now showed over three million viewers. She held in a whoop of joy. There would be no way for the press to bury this story. No way for the Pershings to pay anyone off to silence it. This scandal would be so well-known, so widespread, the president wouldn’t dare use his power of pardon.

  Winston, Todd, and all the Pershings were going down.

  “Here’s an example of the most recent delivery. My associate and his colleague found some perplexing numbers in Todd Pershing’s hidden floor safe.”

  Todd’s what? Madison reeled. She’d lived in that apartment for over two years and was just finding out he had a hidden safe?

  Genie showed pictures of a scrap of paper. “On this side, they found coordinates that led to a rural stretch of road just outside a ranch in McAllen, Texas. The adjacent property belongs to a rancher who had been complaining to local and federal authorities for a while—to no avail—that he had evidence, including the skeletons of children, that coyotes were using his land to transport people.” More pictures flashed on screen, including a heartbreaking box of small bones. “The coroner believes these to be the remains of a seven-year-old girl. Seven. Let that hit you. She was taken from her family, intended to be enslaved for some disgusting pedophile’s pleasure, but somehow died instead. She was left to rot in a cardboard box.”

  The audience visibly recoiled. More outraged murmurs resounded.

  “On the other side of the paper, we found a three-digit number. We didn’t figure out the code in time. But we ran into a bit of luck when my colleague’s coworkers were already investigating the rancher’s issues and intercepted another delivery on Thursday night at those coordinates. Belatedly, we realized the number two hundred forty-two corresponds to August thirtieth on the Julian calendar. Our friends were thankfully in the right place at the right time. Since then, some local arrests have been made. More of the coyotes have been picked up. The dirty border agents and the handlers are being apprehended now. After today, I’m sure Todd Pershing will find himself under investigation, as well as the senator who just last week spearheaded an effort to kill an immigration bill that would have included stringent clauses to protect children from being trafficked. Ask yourselves why he would do that. Because he benefits financially if the bill died. On the stump, he’s claimed that more people should have access to the American dream. It sounds nice, right? But no one’s American dream is being abducted and raped.”

  The crowd all shook their heads, looking shocked and disgusted and ready to lay blame. They turned their dangerous gazes on Winston and Todd.

  “Thankfully, we also have a survivor who’s willing to share her harrowing story. She was taken from her bedroom in the middle of the night just over two months ago. She identified pictures of the coyotes involved in her kidnapping. She also ID’d her handlers and is willing to testify that those scumbags delivered her directly to a warehouse in Virginia…where she was picked up by Todd Pershing himself and set aside for an upcoming virgin auction. Think about that. In the twenty-first century, we still have people buying and selling others for their innocence.”

  When Genie waved to the side of the stage, out walked Graciela, Matt’s new girlfriend. The sight of the Latina beauty stabbed Madison in the chest. But Graciela had been rescued from terrible circumstances. She couldn’t begrudge the woman for wanting a man who would never let harm befall her. And Matt must truly care for her…

  Madison wanted to be jealous. But it felt petty.

  Matt retreated to take Montrose in hand. The bearded man who had been detaining him stepped forward and gestured Graciela beside him. Genie handed him the microphone.

  “Name is Kane Preston. I’m employed by EM Security Management based out of Louisiana. I’ve been investigating the claims of the rancher south of McAllen named Whit McFadden, who discovered the remains of the child you’ve seen, along with others. Graciela would like to tell her story. I’ll translate.”

  He nodded at her. Then the beauty launched into rapid-fire Spanish. Every few sentences, Kane would interpret for the crowd. Madison saw their shock dawn, followed by horror, then tears for the fear and threats of abuse she’d endured.

  At the end of her remarks, Graciela leaned toward the microphone and looked Matt’s way and spoke in a thick, halting voice. “I would like to thank my friend for rescuing me at great expense to his safety and his heart. Without you, I would be caged and harmed. I can never repay all you have done. Because of you, I can go home.”

  Kane escorted her off stage.

  Madison blinked and gaped, trying to understand. Go home? Graciela didn’t want to stay with Matt? Unless…she had never been with him in the first place. Had he been making the best of a terrible situation and saved the poor woman while he could? That sounded like something Matt would do. Madison didn’t understand why he had been so cruel when he’d walked out of her life. But she knew the most likely answer. Everything came back to Todd.

  She might be ridiculous and dooming herself to more heartbreak, but her hope renewed and surged.

  “What do you have to say to all this, Senator Pershing?” one of the men in the audience sneered.

  Logan and Joaquin railroaded him forward, directly toward the mic in Kane’s hand. Winston shot Madison a filthy glare that promised retribution, then spoke to the crowd. “I had no idea what my grandson was into. We never talked about his dealings. We played golf and enjoyed family time. I would never have approved of such a scheme. Those poor people… I’ve always fought for the rights of others, and I value humanity far too much⁠—”

  “You might want to stop lying before you get lynched,” Genie drawled. “I’ve got you, you son of a…beeswax. Excuse my French, parents. Speaking of, you might want to cover your kids’ ears for this.”

  At the woman’s wave, an audio file began playing from the speakers. The first thing Madison heard was Todd’s laughter. The evil in that familiar sound made her shudder.

  “Business has been especially lucrative this year, Grandpa. Good thing you know some really horny bastards who frequently want new toys and have the cash to buy them.”

  “Just make sure you keep everything discreet and untraceable.”

  “Always do. Your cut of the money will be routed around a few of the usual channels, but it should hit your Cayman’s account early next week.”

  “Don’t forget to include extra to repay me for cleaning up the Brent situation. Making a murder disappear was fucking expensive. I shelled out a lot of cash and called in a lot of favors. You need to learn to cool your hot head. Since all you seem to understand is pussy and money⁠—”

  “I got you, Grandpa. Lesson learned. We just didn’t have a choice. He wanted to go public with our operation.”

  “You should have left shutting him up to me.”

  “Yeah. Next time…” Todd almost sounded contrite, but Madison had heard that tone too many times to believe it. “Can I throw in something special to spice up your afternoon. I just took possession of a hot one. She’s virginal, not quite legal, and has a set of tits designed to make a man sweat. You could break her in good and rough…”

  “Why don’t you do it for me and tell me how good it was later?”

  “You know I like the chase. This one is too easy. They’re all willing to spread their legs once they get hungry enough.”

  Winston laughed. “See, that’s what I love about people, dumb and predictable. Realizing that makes you powerful.”

  The audio ended. Madison’s mouth hung open. That was more than a smoking gun. That was enough to end any chances Winston had of winning another election. It should be enough to put him in prison, too. And now that his core voters—and so many of the American people—knew, maybe that would actually happen.

  Where the hell had Genie and Matt procured that bombshell audio clip? She looked to Matt in utter shock and a question on her face. He bobbed his head toward the side of the stage. Ramona, Willa, and Sadie were all holding hands and grinning from ear to ear. They’d secretly recorded the Pershing men? Madison wanted to hug them. Ramona and Willa would probably be out of jobs, but they looked more than willing to suffer that consequence for doing the right thing.

  Suddenly, Winston groaned.

  Madison whirled around in time to see him stagger. His chest buckled, and his eyes bulged in his florid face. He gasped for breath.

  “Medic!” Logan shouted. “We need a goddamn medic!”

  A couple of EMTs rushed in from the sidelines as the younger Edgington brother and Joaquin settled Winston’s supine form on the stage and backed away, allowing the medical personnel to kneel at his side with their equipment and get to work.

  “Heart attack?” Logan asked.

  Neither EMT answered at first. Finally, one nodded. “We’re losing him.”

  Todd ripped free from Zy, who hovered as her husband fell to his knees at his grandfather’s feet. He turned on the EMTs. “You better fucking save him.”

  “Sir, we’re doing all we can. Back up. You need to give us room…”

  Todd rose, searched the stage with wild eyes, then caught sight of her and stormed in her direction. “Fucking cunt. You and that cowboy nobody you spread your legs for? I’m going to fucking end you both.”

  Madison dodged him, but Todd was full of rage—and he was faster. He wrapped a hand around her throat and squeezed mercilessly. As she struggled for air, she choked and flailed. God, was he crushing her windpipe? She feared the answer as pain and dizziness wracked her. Adrenaline surged, and she kicked and elbowed him while trying to stamp her heel into his toes. But she’d been too queasy to eat her lunch. The heat had sapped her. She felt lightheaded and weak. Still, she fought on for herself. For her baby.

  Matt, Zy, Logan, and Joaquin all closed in, their faces full of grim determination.

  Todd chose that moment to pull a switchblade from his suit coat and press it against her neck. “Back off! I’ve already severed a head from a body. Don’t think I won’t do it again. This blade is a lot duller than the kitchen knife I used on my cousin, but I’ll put in the extra effort to kill this bitch.”

  Matt shouted for her, his eyes wide. Panic. She saw it through his calm facade as the black tunnel of her vision narrowed. Her alarm spiked. She thrashed and wriggled—to no avail. From a distance, she saw police rush in, guns drawn. Another level of fear clawed her. This scene was spinning out of control.

  Todd pressed the knife deeper. It pierced her skin. Blood ran warm down her neck. Hyperventilating, she clawed at Todd’s arm. He didn’t give an inch.