by K. C. Crowne
“Okay, well, I’d love to hear more about those baseball games,” I said, returning my attention to the others. “George, how did you make it to all those games? You were a busy developer, building resorts all over the world. How did you find time to always come back for the games?”
George shrugged. “When something is important to you, you make it a priority. It’s as simple as that.”
Lauren returned to her seat and rolled her eyes. I really, really wanted to hear what she had to say. “Lauren, do you have any experiences like that? Where your father made you a priority?”
Lauren snorted but covered her mouth when she realized what she’d done. Before she could answer, George pulled my attention back to him. “That article you wrote about Jeremiah…you do realize that it’s not completely accurate.”
“Oh?” I cocked my eyebrow. “And how was it not accurate?”
“Well, you said that he took over as mayor because he loves the town of Liberty, that he did it for the people.”
“And you don’t believe that?”
“No. He took over the position out of obligation. Because his father died suddenly, he was in mourning, and he wanted to make his father proud. Noble reasons, sure, but his heart clearly isn’t in it. He has no experience in politics, and no desire to be there. It’s why the books are such a mess right now and—”
“Excuse me, the financials were handled by the treasurer,” I said, narrowing my gaze. “And they weren’t a mess. There are questions that have been brought up regarding some of the funding going in and out, but I’m sure that will be cleared shortly.”
“Ah, yes, your bias comes out again,” George said with a chuckle.
“Excuse me?”
“We all know you have close ties to Jeremiah. He was your father’s best friend,” George revealed, his smile turning into a snarl that appeared almost predatory.
“I thought this was supposed to be an interview with your family to show the world what kind of man you are outside of politics. So far, you’re only talking about Jeremiah.”
“Well, maybe we do need to talk about Jeremiah. Considering the treasurer is dead and—”
“James is dead?” Lauren piped up. She suddenly looked very serious, sitting up straight.
James and Lauren had dated on and off a while back. I knew few details, they’d kept their relationship private, but from the look on her face, this news had hit her hard. She stared at her father, waiting for him to answer.
He didn’t even acknowledge his daughter or her pain.
I felt bad for Lauren, and that wasn’t something I thought I’d ever say.
“I’m not sure where you heard this news since it’s not been made public. And we don’t know all the facts of the case yet.”
“The facts will be out there before long. And you’ll see. Jeremiah isn’t the man you’ve made him out to be.”
My heart tightened in my chest. I needed to keep my composure, had to remain professional. The Holts were influential people, and this was my job. Even if it appeared that George was pushing my buttons intentionally. I couldn’t understand why - except, maybe he was hoping to distract me from the drama happening in front of my eyes.
“Can we get back to talking about your family, please?”
“I think we’re done here, unless Alex has more to add.”
“What if I have something to add, Dad?” Lauren said, addressing her father as if his name was poison on her tongue.
“You’re drunk, Lauren. And frankly, you’re the reason I want to cut this short. You’re an embarrassment right now.”
“Right now? Don’t sugarcoat it, Daddy Dearest. We both know I constantly embarrass you just by existing and being myself.”
I stared at the two of them, as if waiting for a bomb to drop. I should have taken their snipes as my cue to leave, but I couldn’t bring myself to stand up.
Elizabeth took it upon herself to help me. “It was a pleasure, Ms. Schaeffer, I’m so sorry about my daughter,” she said. “We really should reschedule when she’s feeling a bit better.” She crossed the distance from the couch over to me, taking my hand in hers and helping me to stand. “Alex, can you fetch Benjamin to escort Ms. Schaeffer out?”
“I can see myself out.”
“No, dear, I insist.” Something about the way she said it made me think they did not want me alone in the house. She held my hand tightly, as if not willing to let it go until I was escorted by another member of her trusted family or their help.
The butler from earlier came into the room quietly.
“Benjamin, please, see her out.” Elizabeth dropped my hand.
He gestured to the door, offering to allow me to precede him. I headed to the front of the house, and he was on my heels. He wouldn’t let me out of his sight until I was well on my way out of there.
When we stepped out on the porch, Benjamin frowned. A man was climbing out of a black Jaguar. I knew the car; it belonged to Lauren.
“Excuse me,” Benjamin said, going over to the other man. “She’s not fit to drive,” he hissed to the man who’d climbed out of the car.
“She called for the car herself, and we can’t tell her no,” the other man said. “What am I supposed to do?”
I thought Benjamin might say he’d handle it, but he just frowned. I decided I’d had enough waiting, so I walked to my car, passing by the Jaguar. My eyes fell on her license plate and I rolled my eyes so hard, I feared they might get stuck in the back of my head.
RenRox.
Ren was what I’d heard Alex call Lauren when we were younger. Perhaps at one point they’d been close enough for nicknames, before Lauren became an alcoholic and Alex an insufferable douchebag.
Benjamin rushed to my side, likely making sure I didn’t touch the Jag. He held the door to my Toyota open as if it was the door to a more expensive vehicle. Had to give him props for that. At least he wasn’t judging me for my choice in cars.
“Drive safely,” he said stiffly.
“Thanks, Benjamin.”
He froze, his eyes blinking in surprise as if he hadn’t heard me right. Even though I’d used his own name, he still seemed shocked.
Then he smiled at me as he closed my car door, nodding at me as I drove off.
Jeremiah
FBI Agent Thomas Dickinson hadn’t said much since he’d walked into the room. If he thought long silences would get me to tell him something new, he was wrong. Not only was there nothing for me to tell him, I was no stranger to sitting in silence.
I could sit there all damned day without saying a word.
I stared at the tepid coffee someone had brought for me. It wasn’t even room temperature and tasted like dirty water. There was no cream or sugar either, not that I usually took either, but the coffee needed something. Some flavor would have been nice.
Dickinson took a sip from his own coffee before opening the file in front of him and passed it to me.
The detective was around my age, maybe a bit older. His hair had probably been dark at one point, but what was left was now all grey. Most of it was thinning out, which he tried to cover up, but there was just too little hair to do that. He wasn’t large enough to be physically intimidating, but I could imagine that his cold, patient stare was enough to make most people sweat under its scrutiny.
I glanced down at the file, but my lawyer snatched it away. Samuel Baker was a friend of mine since we’d gone to high school together. He also happened to be one of the best lawyers in Utah.
Sam frowned, the lines in his forehead deepening. He was the same age as me, but he looked older. A life filled with stress would do that to you. Give it a few more years, and chances are that the mayor’s office and single fatherhood would do the same to me.
Sam flipped through the file, shaking his head, then passed it back to the agent. I had no idea what was in it.
“Even if the body found was James, there’s no proof he was murdered. The autopsy report hasn’t come in yet, and it’ll likely
be inconclusive.”
“They’re analyzing his dental records now. We’ll know for sure soon.” The agent closed the books. “And do you really think he died of natural causes?”
Dickinson watched me closely. I remained quiet. Sam had urged me silence throughout the interview. He answered for me. “Natural causes? Probably not. But suicide? Very likely.”
The detective snorted. “Right. That would be pretty convenient for your client, wouldn’t it? If the key whistleblower offed himself by driving himself into that lake.”
“There are many reasons he might have taken his own life, Agent Dickinson. And until you have something substantial, you can’t hold my client. We are free to leave.”
“Maybe we don’t have anything substantial about his death, yet. But as you know, the burden of proof for financial crimes is far less than that for murder.”
“And you still don’t meet that,” Sam said with a shrug. He picked up his briefcase and motioned for me to stand.
“We will soon. It would benefit your client to talk, tell us where he was the night of James’ disappearance.”
“I was at home with my daughters,” I said, speaking before Sam could stop me.
“And your daughters can’t collaborate, can they?”
“They’re only two months old, so no.”
“How convenient. How about their mother, would she be able to—”
“Their mother isn’t in the picture,” I snapped. “But I was at home with them. As I am every night.”
“You do realize that won’t hold up in court, right?”
“And you realize,” Sam interrupted, “that you don’t have enough evidence to even take him to court. Have a good day.”
Sam grabbed my arm, and the two of us left the interrogation room. I was shaking, but not from fear. My fists were balled up at my sides. I wanted to punch something. But I held it together.
“Follow me to my office. We need to talk,” Sam instructed.
We left the police station and headed for the parking lot. I climbed into my truck and Sam pulled up next to me in his BMW. He waved and drove by, and I pulled out behind him. Liberty wasn’t that big of a town, so it only took five minutes to get to Sam’s office.
He hurried me inside, and the expression on his face worried me a bit. But he didn’t say anything until we were behind closed doors.
“I’m worried, Jeremiah,” he said softly, steeping his fingers in front of his face.
“About what?” I asked. “You said yourself, they don’t have enough evidence to go to trial.”
“Not for the murder case, no, but the financials…well, they do look bad. This is big enough to get the feds involved. Is there anything you need to tell me?”
“Of course not. I wasn’t taking bribes or paying anyone off.”
Sam studied me for a moment, then nodded. “I know. I know you’re not the type of man to do that, but we need to go over everything, make sure there’s nothing they can question in your personal finances as well.”
My heart stopped. “Like what?”
“Like money that can’t be accounted for, both in and out.” I stared at Sam, and his frown became a scowl. “Jesus, Jeremiah, what’s that face for? Are you hiding something?”
“No, I mean—yes, but it’s not what you think. I’ve agreed to keep the identity of the mother of my children private. We have an arrangement.”
“Like a surrogacy?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.
I thought for a moment. “Sort of. But not completely. I covered all her medical bills and living costs while she was pregnant, and even after the babies were born for a bit. She needed my help.”
“That’s understandable,” he commented. “We’d just bring her in and—”
“No, we can’t. Like I said, she wants to remain anonymous.”
“Jeremiah, we might need her.”
I thought long and hard about this. She had reasons for not coming forward, reasons we both wanted her to remain a secret, none of which I could explain without giving her away.
“I don’t think it’s relevant. It shouldn’t come up. They can see that the money is going to someone who’s not one of the developers I’m accused of working with. She’s not connected to them at all.”
“That’s good, and maybe it won’t even come up. But if it does…”
“We’ll deal with that when the time comes.”
Sam remained quiet. “You know, if they take you to court for the bribery and money laundering charges, they don’t need much to convince a jury that you’re guilty. You could face jail time. Have you thought about what would happen to your daughters if that happened?”
I stared past him at the wall, knowing he was right. “I don’t know. I’ll figure it out.”
Another reason they may have been better off had I put them up for adoption, I thought. No, don’t think like that. You’ve done nothing wrong. Nothing illegal. The truth will come out. It has to.
Your daughters need you.
They have no one else.
“Is there anyone who can vouch for you the night of James’ disappearance? Anyone at all? Even a cashier at a grocery store or a friend you might have called?”
I shook my head. “I don’t see many people. I have my hands full with the twins, Sam. I don’t have time for a social life, and I have my groceries delivered.”
“Well, did you have any groceries delivered the night of his disappearance?”
“No, afraid not.”
“Damn.”
“But there’s no way they can link me to his disappearance. I was nowhere near James’ home. I never have a reason to go into that part of town. They won’t find any of my DNA there, nothing. Because I wasn’t there. And it’s innocent until proven guilty, right?”
“It’s supposed to be,” Sam muttered skeptically.
“Sam, you’re supposed to be more confident than this. I’m innocent.”
Sam just stared at me, his brown eyes searching for the words. “I believe you, Jeremiah, but like I said, things don’t look so good. We need an explanation for the money being moved around in the city’s financials, and we need an explanation for James’ death. We need something, and so far, we have nothing.”
“We have the fact that I’m innocent. Isn’t that enough?”
“I hope so, Jeremiah. God, I hope so.”
Ooo000ooo
“I’m sorry,” I said as I pushed open the door to Little Cubs. “Another emergency.”
Piper was sitting in the front with my girls in the carseats I had dropped them off in earlier that day. The daycare closed forty-five minutes before I pushed through the door. I had dropped them off so suddenly when Sam had called and told me I needed to come into the police station for questioning or they’d be sending officers to my door. It had all happened so fast, and I had been kept longer than I had planned.
Piper smiled at me, holding a bottle to each girl’s mouths. She was feeding them at the same time and made it look easy. Why didn’t I think about using their carseats or another carrier to feed them? One bottle in each hand. I had so much to learn.
“It’s alright. I decided to feed them since it’s about dinner time.”
“Yes, of course,” I said, running a hand across my brow. It was cold and the ground was covered with snow outside, but I had worked up a sweat rushing to get to my girls. The stress didn’t help, of course. “How are they doing?”
“They’re doing well, Jeremiah. You’ve got nothing to worry about. They’re almost done, just give it one second.”
I plopped down on the floor beside her, sitting nearest to Grace. She had a few drinks left in the bottle, not much at all. I’d given Piper plenty of formula to have on hand in case of something like this. I wished I hadn’t had to use it, or her, at all. It made me feel like a failure that I almost missed feeding time for my daughters.
“Jeremiah, it’s normal to feel this way.”
“Feel what way?”
She cocked h
er head to the side and chuckled. “That you’re a failure since you can’t do everything yourself. My mom had always said that it takes a village to raise children. You can’t do it alone. And you’re very much alone, with not one, but two babies.”
“I know, but this stuff that’s going on—it’s not normal.”
“It’s also not your fault.”
It was nice that Piper believed in my innocence. I wasn’t as close to her as I was others in town, so knowing that she believed me meant a lot. But she also didn’t know everything. No one did yet. When the news broke about James’ death, that might sway some opinions.
“All done,” Piper said, holding up the empty bottles.
“Thank you for staying late.”
“It happens, Jeremiah. In this field, it happens more often than you’d realize. Parents are often pulled in so many directions and sometimes they’re late. But you’re here now, and that’s all that matters.”
She rose from the floor and again offered to help me to my car.
“I’ve got it,” I said, not wanting to bother her further. She had already stayed late; she didn’t need to do anything more for me. I could easily carry both carseats.
I covered them with their little blankets, careful to hold the blankets away from their faces and making sure they were nice and cozy as I carried them out the door into the dark parking lot. The streetlights illuminated the lot, and the snow even made it look brighter than it was, but it was still fairly late in the evening, and the darkness around me reminded me of that fact.
I was the only vehicle in the Little Cubs parking lot besides Piper’s. The last parent to pick up his kids. I didn’t want to continue down that path; I didn’t want this to become a common thing.
I buckled the girls into the backseat and blasted the heat in the truck as we drove off, headed for home.
“I’m so sorry,” I said, speaking to the babies, who had no idea what I was saying. “I don’t want to be this type of father, and I promise you I’ll be better.”
I made the pledge to them knowing that even if they couldn’t understand it, I did. I knew what I was promising, and I’d never willingly break a promise to anyone, especially family.
