Chasing the Story

by Shira Anthony

  A dead end. But given the number of reprimands and censures on Bradley Haynes’s state bar record, this was looking more and more like a scam. People like Tessa were vulnerable. Putting your life’s savings into a house at the Carolina Coast meant you worried a lot about storm damage. Paying an extra fifty grand to guarantee that dream….

  Brand shot a quick email to the North Carolina Licensing Board for General Contractors, asking for any complaints against Euclid Builders or any similar construction companies in the past five years within a hundred-mile radius of Wrightsville Beach. It would take a while to get a response on the Public Records Act request, but hopefully it’d turn up something. This was going to take some work.

  Chapter Five

  “MR. CALDWELL, thank you so much for meeting me.” Tessa Gordon was younger than Zach expected, probably late fifties. Trim, with perfectly coiffed dyed blond hair, and dressed in a pair of bright green cropped pants with a matching shirt and floral blazer. Friendly, intelligent eyes. He guessed she’d been a teacher, something she confirmed for him a few minutes later when she once again recounted the story of how she and her husband had retired.

  Zach shook Tessa’s hand and met her gaze with a sympathetic smile. Dark rings were visible under her suntanned skin. This wasn’t the first time he’d seen an expression like hers—Hurricane Florence had taken its toll on the Wilmington area and even more so on its people.

  He’d arrived in Wrightsville earlier than planned and driven around the development. Most of the houses looked pretty good, other than the ubiquitous blue tarps that covered nearly a third of the roofs. The neighborhood was upscale. The waterfront lots probably listed at over a million apiece, with most of the value in the land. Tessa’s house might still have cost upward of a million, since it was located only four rows back.

  “We were lucky enough to retire earlier than most,” she explained as they walked down the street. “I started with Charlotte-Mecklenburg Schools right out of college, so I had my thirty years in. John sold the advertising firm he started. We bought the land years ago, but we only built the house recently.”

  She pointed to the circular dead end and a stand of trees. “It’s over there.”

  The trees on the lot were all intact, but behind them was a pile of rubble that once was Tessa’s house. They stepped over debris in the driveway to get to the front walkway.

  “I’m sorry it’s such a mess,” she said. “We’re on a waiting list for someone to haul this away, but since it’s not blocking anything, they’re telling us it’ll be another month or two before they can get to it.”

  “There’s nothing to apologize for, Ms. Gordon. No matter what it is I find or don’t find, this isn’t your fault. Losing a home is terrible, whatever the cause.”

  Her eyes filled with tears, and she nodded.

  He offered her a reassuring smile, then pulled out his phone and began to snap pictures of what was left of the house. The roof joists were in pieces, the yard littered with asphalt shingles, but what looked like an entire living room wall lay on its side beneath the debris. From what he could tell, the house had collapsed on its elevated foundation, like legs buckling beneath a heavy weight.

  “Our neighbors helped us salvage as much of our personal things as we could.” She sniffled but put on a brave face. “The furniture’s a total loss because of the water. Thank goodness we took all our important papers with us when we evacuated.”

  “I’m sure that must have been difficult.”

  Something over Zach’s shoulder pulled her attention, and her face took on a slightly dreamy quality. “Oh,” she said. “I’m sorry. I forgot to mention that someone else was meeting me here.”

  Zach turned to see Brand standing behind him, flashing his million-dollar bullshit smile and trying—without much success—to appear contrite.

  Zach let out a long sigh and tried to release the tension in his jaw. “Mr. Josephson.” Brand probably hadn’t realized Tessa had contacted them both about the story, but Zach didn’t appreciate someone stepping on his toes either.

  Brand clearly sensed Zach’s irritation, because after he shook Tessa’s hand, he turned to Zach and said, “I didn’t realize you were Ms. Gordon’s other appointment. Sorry about that.”

  Zach gave Brand props for his quick assessment of the situation, but in full supernova charm mode, Brand was supremely distracting. Not to mention this was his investigation, not Brand’s.

  “I take it you know each other.” Tessa’s full focus was on Brand as she spoke.

  “We’ve met.” Zach forced a smile.

  “I apologize,” Tessa put in. “I probably should have warned you I also called WCBN. I was just so desperate, and….”

  “No worries.” Zach strangled a sigh. “I understand.” He was used to the rivalry between local news outlets. He’d behave for now, but later he’d make sure Brand was clear about whose story this was.

  They spent the next forty-five minutes talking about the builders, but other than saying that they seemed “very nice,” she didn’t have much more information than she’d provided over the phone. Zach thanked her for meeting him and told her he’d be in touch as soon as he had something to share, but warned her it might be a week or more.

  Brand surprisingly didn’t object when Zach waved him back to where they’d parked their cars.

  “I’m going to assume you didn’t know this was my story,” Zach said without waiting for Brand to speak. “But just so we’re clear—”

  “You’re going to tell me that this is your gig.” Brand was smiling again.

  “Do you ever not smile?”

  Brand laughed. “Life’s too short. It’s better to smile than frown.”

  “You sound like a fucking greeting card.”

  “Probably.”

  Zach wasn’t sure how to respond, so he pulled out his car keys instead.

  Brand just stood there as Zach opened the door and got behind the wheel.

  “You need something from me?” Zach asked.

  “You could change your mind and let me take you to dinner.” Brand grinned but appeared entirely serious.

  “Not happening.” Hookups were fine. Anything more was too complicated. And Brand? Things didn’t get any more complicated.

  Brand pressed his lips together, but the hint of smile still danced on his face.

  Zach closed the car door and started the engine and pulled away a moment later. He caught a glimpse of Brand in his side view mirror. He was still smiling.

  Chapter Six

  AFTER FINISHING the voiceover for the reunited-after-the-hurricane lost-pet story the next morning, Brand headed over to the New Hanover County Courthouse. The court’s online computer system had been down since Hurricane Florence, so he called Kelly Mayer, the court clerk, and asked her to pull any lawsuits filed against home builders in the past three years.

  “I’m really sorry about making you come here to get these,” Kelly told Brand as she handed him a stack of papers. “IT’s trying to get the online system back up, but with all the flooding in the basement, they’re having a hard time.” She sighed and shook her head. “Thank goodness the database is still intact. It would have taken me days to pull all this for you otherwise.”

  “No worries.” He preferred getting out of the office anyhow. “Thanks for putting this together for me.”

  On a bench outside the courthouse, Brand paged through the documents as a gentle breeze ruffled the papers. Only one case involved allegations of shoddy building practices. It named Vantage Builders, L.L.C., and had been closed within six months of filing. The only documents in the file were a complaint and answer, but the complaint was pure gold. The plaintiff, Carl Remington, alleged serious injuries as the result of the house’s collapse. Brand pulled out his phone, and one Lexis search later, he located Mr. Remington’s personal record. He still lived at the same address noted in the lawsuit. Bingo.

  An hour later Brand turned the corner into Carl Remington’s neighborho
od to see Zach getting out of his car.

  Zach glared at him. “You’re not serious.”

  Brand smiled and shrugged.

  “And you were just about to tell me you never agreed to drop the story.” Zach pulled a small notebook out of the glove compartment and shoved his keys in his pants pocket.

  “Pretty much.”

  Zach frowned, but Brand saw a glimmer of admiration in his eyes. Zach had clearly written him off as a hack. Brand didn’t have anything to prove, but he liked that Zach was giving him some credit.

  “Shall we?” Brand pointed to the front door.

  “We?”

  “You and I.” Brand rubbed the back of his neck, then added, “I’ll even let you go first.”

  Zach stared at him, then huffed and shook his head. “Fine.”

  Brand followed Zach up the steps, happy for the thaw in Zach’s attitude, however small. They stood side by side as Zach rang the doorbell.

  With his thinning white hair and dressed as he was in a polo shirt, long shorts, argyle socks, and white golf shoes, Carl Remington looked like a caricature from Golf Digest. “Yes?”

  “Mr. Remington? My name’s Zach Caldwell. I run the River Watch—it’s a weekly newspaper in Wilmington. And this is—”

  Brand offered Carl his hand. “Brand Josephson. CCBN News.”

  “I’ve seen you on TV. My wife and I watch CCBN every night. Good to meet you.” Carl shook Brand’s hand and smiled broadly. “Janey,” he called. “Come meet Mr. Josephson. You know, the reporter who’s been doing those stories about the storm?” He slipped inside the house.

  Brand glanced at Zach, who chuckled. “And no, I don’t miss the attention at all,” Zach said as Carl and his wife came to the door.

  “Of course you don’t.”

  Zach laughed. The sound reminded Brand of the ocean, bright and welcoming. For a split second Brand saw Zach as he’d been years before, back in New York, young and brimming with contagious energy.

  A woman with bright blue eyes and hair done up in a perfect bun appeared at the door a moment later. “Mr. Josephson?” She shook Brand’s hand with surprising force. “I can’t tell you how thrilled I am to meet you. I—we’ve—been watching your storm series.”

  “This is Zach Caldwell of the River Watch.” Brand stepped back as Zach shook her hand.

  “Mr. Caldwell, good to meet you too. We’ve been reading your paper for years.”

  Zach met Brand’s gaze as he pulled out his notebook, and Brand caught the hint of an eye roll. “Mind if I ask you both some questions?”

  “Of course.” Janey spoke before her husband could get a word out.

  “How long have you been living here in Kure Beach?” Zach asked.

  “We’ve been here for nearly ten years,” she replied. “Ever since Carl retired from his job at IBM in Raleigh.”

  “Have you always lived in this house?”

  “Oh, no. When we first came, we rented a place. You know, to see if we liked it here enough to buy.” She winked and added, “Carl loves to golf, if you can’t tell. That’s what sold him.”

  “How about you?” Brand asked.

  “Me?” Janey shrugged. “What’s not to love? Except the storms, of course.”

  “Did you have any damage from Florence? I know some homes around here were hit pretty hard,” Zach said.

  “We were really lucky. And this time we made sure our house would make it through.” She smiled, but Brand noticed Carl’s gaze flit from the porch to Zach, to his wife, and back to the porch again.

  Interesting.

  “This time?” Zach continued. “So this isn’t the first house you’ve built?”

  “Oh, no.” She sighed theatrically and made a what-can-you-do gesture. “Our first house was destroyed in a storm a few years ago. Carl ended up with a couple of broken ribs and a broken arm when it collapsed. He insisted on riding it out, you know. It’s lucky he wasn’t killed.” She clicked her tongue. “Can’t really blame him, seeing as they promised us it’d withstand anything.”

  “Janey,” Carl interrupted, “I’m sure these gentlemen have better things to do than hear about our trials and tribulations.”

  “Not at all.” Zach nodded and appeared sympathetic. Brand guessed it wasn’t difficult to empathize, since they’d both lived through the post-Florence cleanup. “Please, go on.”

  “Janey,” Carl warned.

  “Carl, honey, you worry too much. I’m sure those men who paid us the money for the damage don’t care if I—”

  Carl took his wife by the arm. “I’m sorry, gentlemen. I’ve got a golf game in a few minutes. It was really good speaking with you.”

  “Carl, that’s rude. I—”

  Carl pulled his wife inside and closed the door in Zach’s face.

  “I guess that’s all for now.” Zach scribbled a few notes, then turned and started down the steps.

  “Gag clause?” Brand would have liked more information about the men Janey mentioned, but it wasn’t a stretch to think the Remingtons had settled their lawsuit with the builders and that the settlement included a confidentiality provision to prevent the Remingtons from talking about it. Janey probably didn’t know, but Carl clearly understood the consequences of breaching the agreement.

  “Probably.”

  “It’s a good start, though.” Brand followed Zach to his car.

  Zach leaned on the side and seemed to consider something.

  “What?” Brand asked.

  “I didn’t expect you’d let me take the lead.”

  “You were doing just fine.”

  Zach laughed. “Compliments will get you nowhere.”

  “Too bad. I was thinking that since we’re working on the story together, we could go somewhere and compare notes.”

  Zach’s response was pretty much what Brand expected. “We are not working on this story together, and I have no need to compare notes with—”

  “With a newbie who knows nothing about how to chase a story?” Brand offered.

  “With someone whose sole reason for chasing the story is to get me to agree to a date.”

  “Confident, are we?” The hint of pink on Zach’s cheeks made Brand wonder if Zach was having second thoughts about turning down the date.

  “You going to tell me there’s another reason?” Zach covered well, but the flush remained.

  “That’s not the only reason.” Brand scratched the back of his neck. He wouldn’t bullshit Zach, but there really was more to it.

  “Oh? Care to enlighten me?” Zach pressed his lips together and waited.

  Brand had been the one to open the door, but now he hesitated. “I wanted to watch you work.”

  “That’s it?”

  “No.” Brand took a deep breath. “You’re the reason I got into this business. We’ve met before.”

  “We have?” Zach frowned.

  “We met in New York. Twelve years ago.”

  Chapter Seven

  A SHORT time later, Zach sat across from Brand at a small table near the back of Craven’s, nursing a Scotch. He’d agreed to Brand’s invitation to “explain over drinks” way too quickly, but instead of regretting it, he found himself enjoying Brand’s company as he recounted his first day on the job in Wilmington.

  “I was supposed to check out a report that a commercial fisherman was bagging protected sharks—sand tigers and sandbars—and selling them on the black market for export to Asia.” Brand snorted and shook his head. “I had it in my head that just asking the guy about it was a great idea. I didn’t take no for an answer. Next thing I knew I was in the water next to the docks, wearing my best suit. I was stubborn.”

  “Was?” Zach raised his drink and sipped.

  “At least I’ve learned to duck.” Brand grinned. “I’ve learned a lot of things on the job.”

  “So you hadn’t done any on-camera work before you landed the gig here?” That probably meant they hadn’t met at BeaconCorp in New York.

  “Nope. I w
rote and did research for a station in Florida right out of school.” Brand’s smile was a bit more tentative than before. “You and I didn’t meet on the job. I met you when I was in high school.”

  “High school?”

  Brand nodded. “I spent most of my third year grounded—my mom took my phone and the extra set of keys to her car because I was flunking most of my classes.” He paused, then met Zach’s gaze. “Except Mr. Eisen’s English class. I aced that one.”

  “Jerry Eisen.” Zach stared at Brand. “You’re that kid? The one Jerry wanted to convince to apply for Stony Brook?” He struggled to reconcile the image of the man in front of him with the skinny kid Jerry had introduced him to twelve years before.

  Brand’s face flushed with pleasure. “You remember?”

  “Damn straight I do.” Zach rubbed his mouth. “Not every day you get a call from your high school English teacher to come speak at an assembly.” He laughed. “Except he didn’t give a crap about the assembly. You were the one I was there for.”

  “Me?” Brand’s lips parted as if he’d finally put the pieces together. “Mr. Eisen—Jerry asked you to come for me?”

  “He’d never have admitted he cared enough about a single kid that he’d call in a favor just for him. But yeah. I knew.” He’d known it by the way Jerry had talked about Brand, how he’d mentioned the kid’s dad had dropped out of Stony Brook University to take a construction job and support his family when his mom had gotten pregnant with Brand. Jerry was sure Brand’s mom didn’t have enough money to help with tuition and with Brand’s grades slipping, he wouldn’t get enough of a scholarship to make ends meet.

  “Self-fulfilling prophesy,” Jerry had told Zach. “He’s looking for an excuse not to apply for college. I want you to talk to him.”