Barnes.
Maggie scribbled a note to herself to ask Judge Easter if the couple had a prenuptial agreement. While Tyler Hughes came from a good familyâfather a surgeon, mother a principal in a high schoolâthere wasnât an unlimited supply of money the way there was with Beka Barnes. Even if Tyler made some really serious money during his lobbying days, it wouldnât last forever with his lifestyle. Where did Justice Barnesâs payoff money go? Exactly how much was it? More than a million? Two or three, perhaps? Which was another way of saying heâd be ripe to engage in a little blackmail scheme if he had already spent the big buy-off and the lobbying money was dwindling.
Maggie scribbled another note to herself. Does he pay alimony and child support? With his high salary, she suspected heâd be paying through the nose. That would also hurt his bank account.
Maggie reached for her cell phone to call one of her favorite snitches, Abner Tookus, who also happened to be one of the best computer hackers in the business. For a price, heâd get you anything you needed. Well, almost anything.
âAbner,â Maggie said when the snitch picked up after the fourth ring. âI need a favor.â
The voice on the other end of the phone was high-pitched, almost a squeal. Maggie knew for a fact that Abner hated to talk, preferring to send messages. âThe kind that pays or doesnât pay? You get what you pay for, Miss Reporter.â
âHow about an IOU?â
Abner scoffed.
âOkay, how about if I sleep with you at some point?â
Abner scoffed again.
âOkay, how much?â It was Maggieâs turn to scoff when she heard the amount. âLetâs do this, a quarter of the amount and I sleep with you next month after I wind this down. Yeah, of course Iâll put it in writing. So, is it a deal?â
âWhat do you need?â
âThe financials on Tyler Hughes. Works at some think tank in the District. He was married to the chief justiceâs kid, Rebecca Barnes by name. Lives at the Watergate. Get me his credit report, too. Any and all clubs he belongs to. Who he associates with on a regular basis. I donât know why I say this, but I think the guy might gamble. In other words, I want everything.â
âNot for one sleepover you donât. We need to renegotiate. Every other weekend for two months.â
âYouâre nuts. I donât even sleep with my boyfriend that much. Two sleepovers and a hundred bucks. Thatâs my final offer,â Maggie said, knowing full well she wouldnât hold up her end of the bargain. Abner was just jerking her chain. Abner always settled for a nice dinner at some secluded place that had real tablecloths and candles on the table. Abner was a true friend.
âWhen do you need this?â
âAn hour ago. ASAP. Give me a time, Abby.â
âOooh, I love it when you call me Abby. Gives me goose bumps and I can feel my eyelashes curling upward as I speak. So how come you and that boyfriend of yours donât have much sex? Canât he get it up? Are you still with that guy who has the cats?â
âNone of your damn business, Abner.â Then Maggie broke the connection to stare down at the stack of papers on the kitchen table. She couldnât help but wonder if she was missing something.
A minute later she was back online searching out case histories of women and children who had made use-of-the-secret underground railroad that had taken so many to safety over the years. While she couldnât find those who were spirited away, she did find histories of those who had come back and ended up in jail, put there by their spouses. To their credit, none of the women spilled their guts. Two of them were still in jail because they wouldnât talk. That had to say a lot for Justice Barnes and her operation. Maggie could now see why everything was so secretive, why one leg of the journey was
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