ZACH LOOKED up at the clock over the door to his makeshift office. He and Brand had ended up going back to bed for a few hours before grabbing lunch and heading to the TV station. They never did eat breakfast. Taking the morning off might mean he’d have to work late a few days, but his slightly sore ass reminded him it was totally worth it.
He’d gone over the results of the Public Records Act request he’d made weeks before. Nothing new there. He hadn’t really expected anything from it, but he’d learned that not fleshing out every lead meant you sometimes missed a key bit of information for a story.
Zach set the paperwork aside and got back to work on edits of an article for next week’s paper. He’d nearly finished when his cell phone buzzed. “Zach Caldwell.”
“Mr. Caldwell?” The voice sounded vaguely familiar.
“Yes?”
“This is Terry Warfield.”
Zach gritted his teeth against a powerful wave of anger. You need to see this through, and he’s the key to cracking the case. “Mr. Warfield, good to speak with you again.” He drew a long breath and pulled out his notebook.
“Yeah…. I… well… I realize I wasn’t exactly helpful the last time we spoke.”
Understatement. “I understand. I’m sure you were busy.” Total bullshit, but the man clearly had something to say now.
“I… I…. We should talk.” Warfield sounded slightly hoarse. “I… I know that must sound crazy coming from someone who blew you off the last time, but things have changed.”
“Okay.” Zach didn’t say more. In his experience, people had a tendency to fill the silences, and he wanted to get a better handle on where Warfield was coming from.
“I’d rather do this face to face. My house? This afternoon, if you’re free, but if you’re not…. And if you want to bring your colleague, that’s fine. It’s just that I—” Zach heard a child yelling something in the background. “I’m sorry, Mr. Caldwell. I really need to go. I’ll be here all afternoon.” The call disconnected before Zach could respond.
Zach stared at his phone.
“You look confused.” Brand walked through the door.
“I am, I think.”
“What’s up?” Brand put a hand on Zach’s shoulder.
“That was Terry Warfield.”
“Seriously?”
Zach nodded. “He says he wants to talk.” Zach knew exactly how the offer sounded, but he wanted Brand’s opinion before he weighed in. “At his house. Says you’re welcome to come too.”
“He expects us to just show? After someone ran me off the road the last time I tried to speak with him?”
“Apparently.” Zach tapped his pen against the page in his notebook where he’d scribbled Change of heart??? and circled it twice.
“You’re thinking we should meet him.” Brand pressed his lips together and rubbed the back of his neck.
“I know it sounds crazy after all the shit that’s happened, but I think he really does want to talk. I think he wants to come clean.”
“You know I trust you, right?”
Zach smiled and nodded. “But you want to know why I think we can trust him.”
“I’d feel better, yes.”
“Warfield sounded… spooked. Could be he’s a really good actor, but I didn’t get that about him. And there was a kid in the background.” Zach prided himself on his objectivity and on his assessment of people in general. But with everything that had happened—with what had happened to Brand—he realized he didn’t fully trust himself on this one.
“A kid, huh?” Brand leaned against Zach’s desk. “Whoever’s behind this is way bigger than Warfield. If he’s worried about blowback, he’d be more likely to tell his story to the media than risk going to the police.”
Not that it would really help Warfield in the end. Even if he and Brand did bring down the scammers, law enforcement would be looking at Warfield as their star witness. “We could give Jesse a heads-up,” Zach offered.
“If the guy’s for real, a police cruiser parked in front of his place isn’t going to make him very talkative.”
“No.” Zach glanced down at his notes again, but there really was nothing there to help them out. This was about risk and trusting his gut. “We’ll call Jesse on the way. Ask him to be discreet.”
Brand nodded. “I can live with that. But if things seem at all squicky, we leave, okay?”
“No argument here.” Zach closed the notebook and dug his car keys out of his pocket.
Brand eyed Zach’s car, a hunter green Mini Cooper. “You really drive that thing?”
“Not like you haven’t seen her before,” Zach shot back.
“Her?”
“Boats are female. Why not cars?” Zach unlocked the car and got inside.
“Just because I’ve seen you drive it doesn’t mean I’ve ever considered being a passenger in it.” Brand eyed the passenger seat warily.
“Not my fault you’re six foot three.”
Brand grabbed the top of the car, right above the door, and slid one leg inside, then the other. “Shit.” He rubbed the top of his head.
Zach chuckled. “You’ll get the hang of it.”
“Hell I will. Sitting in this is like being wedged into a school locker.” He half grinned, half glared at Zach, who laughed outright.
“Want me to kiss it and make it better?”
“I’ll tell you what you can kiss.” Brand waggled his eyebrows.
“I’m holding you to that.” Zach smiled, but as they drove out of the parking lot, the warmth of the comfortable banter faded, and he drew a long breath. Trusting Warfield was probably dangerous, but the man held the key to their story.
The thought that it had taken him far more time to trust Brand than Warfield flickered in his mind, displacing his unease. It was one thing to trust someone to tell you the truth about a story; it was an entirely different thing to trust someone with your heart.
Zach smiled as they drove along the Cape Fear River, the sun shimmering on the water’s surface.
Sometimes you have to put everything on the line to get what you want.
Chapter Thirty-Six
TERRY WARFIELD’S house was in Monkey Junction, an area recently annexed by the City of Wilmington and named for a gas station that once used live monkeys to bring in tourists headed for the beach. The area was a hotspot for development, and they passed several as they pulled off the main road.
They parked on the cul-de-sac near Warfield’s house and walked the hundred feet or so to the house. Brand wasn’t surprised the area was all new construction—if they were right about Warfield getting kickbacks for looking the other way, he’d have more than enough extra income to afford one of the McMansions in the development.
Zach rang the doorbell, and a moment later a boy of ten or so poked his head out. “Dad! Someone’s at the door!” the boy shouted. “My dad’s coming.”
“Thanks.” Brand smiled. “What’s your name?”
“I’m Terry.”
Same name as his father. “Nice to meet you. I’m Brand. And this is Zach.”
“Hi.” The little kid disappeared, and a moment later they stood face to face with Terry Warfield.
“Thank you for coming.” Warfield stepped onto the porch and shut the screen door behind him.
“May we talk inside?” Zach asked.
“We can talk here.” Warfield glanced nervously back inside the house. Brand guessed he didn’t want his son overhearing the conversation.
Brand nodded and pulled out his notebook. “Of course.”
For nearly a minute, Warfield stood silent, as if trying to decide what to tell them. “I’m just doin’ my job.”
“With all due respect, Mr. Warfield,” Brand put in, “if you’d been doing your job, I don’t think we’d be here. You called us because you want to come clean, right?”
Warfield rubbed his mouth and glanced away. No matter how this went down, if they’d been right about Warfield’s involvement in the scheme,
Warfield would be looking at jail time, not to mention the loss of his job and license. Brand understood the man’s hesitation.
“Mr. Warfield?” Brand waited until Warfield looked at him again. “How would you feel if someone doing your job exactly the way you’ve been doing it inspected your house? Would you feel safe?”
“Of course.”
“Bullshit,” Zach snapped. “You’d be terrified, wouldn’t you?”
Brand did his best not to react. They hadn’t discussed a strategy for the interview on the drive over, but Brand was pretty sure Zach hadn’t planned the sudden outburst. He was probably still angry about Brand being run off the road.
Warfield said nothing.
“How about families like yours who don’t even know the time bomb they’re sitting on? How would you feel if their kid ended up dead because they rode out a storm in a house they thought was hurricane proof? How would you feel if it was your kid they pulled out of the rubble?” Zach shook as he spoke these words.
Brand put a steadying hand on Zach’s shoulder. Zach looked at him and pressed his lips together. “I’m sorry,” Zach said after a moment. “I shouldn’t have said all that.”
Warfield nodded. “I get it.”
“What Zach’s saying is that the longer you stay silent, the more you’re putting lives at risk,” Brand said. “I’m sure you don’t want that.”
“Of course I don’t want someone to get hurt.” Warfield glanced over his shoulder again. Zach figured he didn’t want anyone inside to overhear the conversation.
“But you look the other way, don’t you?” Zach pressed.
“I don’t—”
“Mr. Warfield. You realize that if someone gets hurt, you’ll be the first one they’re coming after. Who’s going to take care of your son when you’re in prison?”
Warfield’s skin looked pasty, and beads of sweat appeared on his brow. “I don’t want to go to prison. I want… I need to do this. I need to tell you what happened. I’m just….”
“Let me guess.” Zach’s tone was gentler than before, almost sympathetic. “You did this for him. Terry Junior, right?”
Warfield nodded. “I just wanted him to have the things I never had as a kid. I didn’t want my wife to have to work a second job.” He’d probably started small—a little money here and there—until whoever was behind the scheme had him hooked. In Brand’s experience, that was how usually decent people fucked up.
“So how does it work?” Zach continued. “You get the buildings past inspection? Make sure no one realizes the builders cut corners?”
“I didn’t hurt no one.” Warfield’s voice shook. “They said no one would get hurt.”
“No one’s been killed. But folks’ve been injured. The people you work for ran my partner off the road. He could’ve died.” Zach’s voice resonated with a quiet determination as he pressed forward.
“They…?” Warfield swallowed, and he looked genuinely afraid.
“You didn’t think they’d do something like that?” Zach glanced at Brand, then back at Warfield.
“I don’t… I didn’t—”
“We know you’re not the one running the show,” Brand said. “If you tell the truth now, maybe you’ll get to see your kid grow up. But if someone dies—”
A sound like the backfiring of a truck, or fireworks, came from the wooded area near the house. Not fireworks. Brand knew that sound. The shot hit the doorjamb, splintering the wood. A fucking rifle!
He threw himself at Zach and Warfield, knocking them both through the screen door and onto the foyer floor as another shot rang out in quick succession. “Get back!” Brand managed to close the front door with his foot. Zach grabbed the boy and ran toward the back of the house.
Warfield stared up at Brand, eyes wide, face flushed. “Oh God!” His shoulder was bleeding. It didn’t look too bad—probably a piece of wood from the door. A high caliber rifle would do a lot worse.
Another shot rang out, this one shattering a front window. Shit. Before Brand had a chance to react, Zach was pulling Warfield down the hallway to the kitchen and den. “Brand, get some cover!” he shouted.
“Daddy?” Terry Jr. peered out from near the TV.
Zach dragged Warfield inside and waved Terry Jr. back. “Is anyone else here?”
Warfield shook his head.
Brand took the boy’s arm and led him to the couch. “Get behind that and stay low.” He covered Terry Jr. with his body as another shot came in through the front of the house, followed by a different sound, like popping.
“Let’s hope that’s Jesse,” Zach said as he and Warfield joined them behind the couch. Brand waited, heart racing. Finally he heard Jesse’s voice outside the door. “Zach? Brand? It’s Jesse. I’ve got some guys on the way. I think the shooter’s gone, but you need to stay put.”
“We’ve got one injury,” Zach shouted back. “Doesn’t look too bad, though.”
“EMS’s on the way. Stay where you are until backup gets here,” Jesse told them.
Zach crawled over to Warfield, who was clutching his arm. “Let me take a look.”
Warfield nodded. From the living room, Terry Jr. whimpered. Brand put his arm around the boy’s shoulders. “It’s going to be okay. There’s a sheriff’s deputy outside.”
“Your dad didn’t get shot,” Zach added. “Looks like he got hit with a piece of wood from the door. He’ll be fine.”
“I’m sorry, Terry,” Warfield told his son. “I never meant for things to get like this. Never.”
No one ever does. Terry Jr. was crying but seemed calmer now. Brand pitied the guy. He wished the kid didn’t have to see or hear any of this, let alone be in the middle of a shooting.
“It was a few extra bucks. One house, then two. Before I knew it, I was lookin’ at a whole bunch of ’em.” He glanced over to his son. “I don’t make much money doin’ this work, and the school he goes to’s expensive. I just wanted to pay the bills, you know. I didn’t want no one to get hurt.”
Twenty minutes later Zach and Brand watched from Warfield’s porch as Warfield’s hysterical wife held their son while Warfield left in one of the squad cars. They’d already given their statements to Jesse, but he’d asked them to stick around until the wife arrived, since Terry Jr. didn’t seem to want to leave Brand’s side.
“The night I found you in that ditch, I was so angry I nearly came here by myself.” Zach gazed past the law enforcement vehicles at a soybean farm. The crop had long since been harvested, and stalks stripped of their leaves poked out from the dirt. “I wanted to shake that man and make him tell me what he knew.”
Brand put his hand over Zach’s. He’d always thought of himself as someone who protected other people, but knowing how far Zach would go to keep him safe made him feel good. “You’re crazy to even think that, you know.” He squeezed Zach’s hand. “But thanks.”
“I’ve never had someone try to shoot me before.” Zach sighed. “Kind of puts things in perspective, doesn’t it?”
“You mean in an I’m-getting-the-hell-out-of-this-insane-business sort of way?” He didn’t want that, of course. But he’d understand if Zach eased off the reporting after today.
“No.” Zach met his gaze. “In a why-am-I-waiting-to-tell-the-man-I-love-how-I-feel sort of way.”
“Whoa.” Brand smiled and the warmth in his chest blossomed, erasing the last flicker of doubt that lingered there. He’d guessed at how Zach felt, of course, but he’d expected it would take time for Zach to admit his feelings.
Zach smiled back. “Surprised you, didn’t I?”
“You never stop surprising me.” He leaned in and kissed Zach. Sweet, almost chaste. He’d save his usual over-the-top gesture for when they had more privacy.
“Thanks.”
“For the kiss?” Brand gently teased.
“For taking a chance on me.” Zach brushed Brand’s lips with his finger. “And for not giving up, even when I pushed you away.”
“I’ve always been
a pain in the ass.”
Zach grinned. “Cutest ass—I mean pain in the ass—I know.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
“MR. CALDWELL? Mr. Josephson? I’m Logan James, Special Agent in Charge. I oversee the eastern part of the state.” Logan pulled out his FBI badge and ID. “Thanks for meeting with me.”
“Thank you.” Brand glanced at Zach, who seemed just as surprised the FBI had decided to get involved. It had been five days since they’d nearly gotten shot at Warfield’s house, and they’d spoken to both local law enforcement and the State Bureau of Investigation. If the FBI was involved, it meant there might be an out-of-state connection.
“I take it your agency’s involvement means someone’s looking into whether the money trail leads out of North Carolina?” Zach asked.
“It’s probably a long shot, but we’re looking into whether similar scams in South Carolina are related.” Logan offered Zach a stiff smile. “I promise if we find something, you’ll be the first reporters to hear about it.”
“I appreciate that.” Zach was all business. He’d been that way since they arrived at the sheriff’s office, as if he’d already moved on to something new. Another story, perhaps?
Brand wondered if there was something Zach wasn’t telling him. They’d spent the weekend at Zach’s place, and although Zach had seemed happy, Brand sensed he’d been thinking about something.
Jesse, who’d been standing by the door, glanced at Logan, who nodded. “I just heard from the DA. Warfield’s entering a guilty plea in return for his cooperation.”
“Can you share anything with us about what he’s saying?” Zach asked.
“Not now,” Logan replied before Jesse could respond. “I’m sorry.” He pressed his lips together, then turned to Jesse. “Deputy Freeman, I need to confirm a few things with these gentlemen. I’ll let you know if I need any more information from your office.”
Jesse smiled, but Brand thought he looked slightly irritated. “Of course.”
Logan waited until Jesse left, then pulled out a tablet and tapped it a few times. “I have a few questions I’d like to ask you both.”
Chasing the Story Page 18
