Small Town Secrets

by Molly Kate Gray

  “Not a chance. I’m not playing against two reporters.” Meghan pointed at David and Tara in turn. “And those two don’t belong on the same team — not if you want them to still be talking to each other when the night’s over.” She looked back at Josh. “Girls against the guys. Either way, Dave and I pay for half. This is really to decide if you’re paying the other half or if Tara is.”

  Josh raised an eyebrow. “I guess we can’t break tradition.”

  • • •

  “You cheated,” Tara accused.

  “Would I do that?” Josh looked up at her from his spot leaning against the couch cushion. He caught hold of her hand and pulled her close to him. When she was leaning with her back to his chest, he wrapped his arms around her waist, and he was relieved to feel her relax against him. Rosie lifted her head in mild annoyance at the disturbance before resting her head atop Tara’s thigh.

  “It isn’t fun when you let me win.”

  “What makes you think I let you win?”

  “You played C-A-T.”

  “Cat is a word.” Josh ran his fingers lightly up and down Tara’s arm as she snuggled more deeply against his chest.

  “Out of all your tiles, that was the only word you could play?” She tilted her head up and attempted to glare at him.

  “Consider it an act of mercy.” He placed a light kiss on her head. “Meghan was falling asleep sitting up. I was ready to concede defeat.” The doorbell rang, and he glared at the distraction.

  “I’ll go see who it is.” Tara pulled out of Josh’s embrace and looked at her front door. Rosie ran ahead and sniffed at the doorframe. “Who’s there, girl?” Tara cracked open the door and was surprised to see … no one. She stepped on to the porch and looked from side to side.

  “Who is it?”

  “There’s nobody here.” She reached down and scooped a brown manila envelope from the welcome mat. “Just this.”

  “That’s odd.” He took it from her hand and cracked open the seal.

  “Josh?” She cocked her head to the side and her wavy ponytail came to rest on her shoulder.

  He stared at the single of paper. “Do you know where your dad’s old files are?”

  • • •

  Tara’s nose wrinkled against the damp mustiness of the basement, hitting her at full force as the door at the top of the stairs creaked open. The hundred-plus-year-old home was one of the few in town with a basement. Her mother said they needed to be thankful for it; they didn’t have to worry if a tornado ever descended on the town. Flicking the light switch on and peering out at the dusty cobwebs clinging to the ceiling, Tara wasn’t so sure.

  “They’re down here.” Tara took hold of the rail, trying to ignore the faint dampness of the wood. Now this wouldn’t have been her first choice for where to put the files, but after her parents’ car accident, she didn’t really care. When the employees at the station helped pack up a lifetime of memories from the office, she just stood back and let them take them downstairs.

  She hadn’t looked at them since.

  “Have you looked through them?” Josh’s footsteps on the stairs made them squeak.

  Tara sped her descent, not certain if the steps could really hold both of them. “No.” She shook her head, mildly embarrassed. Who knew what stories her dad had been working on those last few weeks? She should have read through his files, but she was trapped in the numbness at losing both her parents, especially how they’d left things the last time she’d talked with her mom. Looking through the files hadn’t exactly been a top priority. “I just couldn’t.”

  She turned back and glanced at Josh over her shoulder, but she couldn’t exactly read his expression. Surprised, yes. But he wasn’t judging her. Instead, he seemed to be lost in his own thoughts … probably deciding what he’d do if something happened to Chuck. Leaving all his possessions in paper boxes in a damp basement likely wouldn’t be it.

  “They’re over there.” Tara stood and pointed into the corner. Even in the meager yellow light from the single overhead bulb, she could see the discoloration from the years spent on the perpetually damp dirt floor. Her dad always said he needed to put a real floor in the rough basement.

  Just one more thing he left unfinished.

  Without hesitation, Josh knelt down and ripped the packing tape from the top of the first box. Knickknacks from trips. Family pictures. Her father’s collection of memories reminded her of the odds and ends in Chuck’s office. Must be a dad thing.

  “Not this one.” Josh set the box to the side, sliding the next one closer to him.

  More photos. Favorite books. A few awards wrapped in newspaper.

  The second box was pushed away.

  The third box came from the top of the stack leaning precariously against the wall. Josh tossed it in his hands. “Too light for files, but just in case.” The packing tape peeled away, no match for the wetness that had seeped into the cardboard during the time the boxes had been forgotten in the basement. He peered into the top and grinned at her, tilting so she could see inside.

  Lapel pins. A banner from the day he announced his run for governor. God, that seemed like such a long time ago.

  “I’d forgotten your dad was campaigning.”

  Tara let out a slow breath and nodded. “It’s why it was such a big story. He was expected to win.”

  “But the media didn’t know about his packrat tendencies … ” Josh’s smile teased as his eyes surveyed the rest of the cluttered room. Old tools. A faded football helmet. A typewriter orange with rust.

  “It drove Mom crazy. He was the only one who ever came down here.”

  “I can imagine.” Josh tossed two more boxes to the side, before he stopped at an oddly misshapen one practically crushing the box below it. He placed his hands on either side and picked it up. “Heavy.”

  “Mmm hmm.” He mumbled in satisfaction. He pulled out a handful of manila files and handed them off to her. “Since we don’t know what we’re looking for.”

  “We need to look through all of them.” Tara reluctantly turned on her heel, making her first trip up the stairs.

  • • •

  An hour later, Tara’s formerly pristine kitchen looked more like the storage closet in her high school newspaper office. Towers of files leaned precariously against the wall beneath the window seat. Papers covered every inch of the table. Josh dropped the last of the old documents on the counter next to the coffee pot.

  It would take days for her to clean this up. Most of the boxes fell apart as they were emptied. All because of a note on her doorstep — it better not have been someone’s idea of a joke.

  “Let’s get started.” Josh stuffed his hands in his pockets as he slowly surveyed the work ahead of them.

  “Just a second.” Tara winced, reaching up to brush a spider out of his hair. She shivered, flicking the cobwebs off her fingertips. “Now we can get started.”

  “Maybe I wanted an assistant.” He chuckled to himself, pleased to see that Tara looked genuinely relaxed for a moment. He caught hold of her arm, carefully watching her reaction. His hand slid down toward her wrist, and he pulled her closer to him.

  He waited.

  Her lips curled up expectantly. She knew what he was about to do.

  He lowered his lips to hers, pleased that she wasn’t pulling away. For the first time since she’d come home to find Wyatt in her bedroom, Tara was fully with him. She settled into his arms, a low hum coming from her throat.

  He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed the feel of her in his arms. His fingers tangled in her hair as his tongue skimmed over her lips. She yielded to him, and his heart pounded in his chest.

  “Josh.” Tara half-heartedly pushed against his chest. Her cheeks were flushed, and her swollen lips were an enticingly deep shade of pink, but a hint o
f a frown formed on her face. “We’ve … got work to do.”

  “Yeah.” Josh cleared his throat and turned his back on her, adjusting his currently too-tight jeans. He wasn’t sure how things went from cleaning out the basement to making out in the kitchen so quickly, but he wasn’t complaining. “I guess we do.” He took a seat at the table, pleased to be able to hide the fact that a part of him desperately wanted even more to happen.

  He’d promised to give Tara all the time she needed.

  That was going to require a cold shower. Lots of them. And not just because she’d found a spider crawling through his hair.

  Josh reached down and selected the folder atop the stack closest to him. Melinda’s Office. Strips of paint samples spilled out the sides. Opening the folder, he discovered a collection of pages ripped from a decorating magazine. He squinted at the date. 1984.They had a long day ahead of them.

  • • •

  Tara’s eyes felt like sandpaper. Words swam across the page she was reading. If they kept going much longer, she was going to have to abandon her contacts in favor of her glasses, and she never wore her glasses.

  She tossed the file filled with agendas from Miller’s Grove Little League executive committee meetings to the side and took hold of the next folder in the pile. Thicker than the others she’d glanced through, this one wasn’t labeled. She peeled the folder open and stared down in shock.

  Tara’s eyes widened as she looked down at a photograph of herself that had to be taken years ago. Battered and bruised, she almost didn’t recognize herself.

  “Oh my God.” Her ears began to ring as she flipped through copies of medical reports she’d never seen. She could hardly focus on the words.

  Significant signs of force …

  Patient has no memory of attack …

  Samples collected and sent to police …

  Contacted parents …

  Blood tested positive for GHB …

  “Tara?” Josh stood and walked around the table.

  “He knew.” She dropped the file as quickly as if it were burning her fingers. “He knew.” She could hear her voice cracking. “All this time. My dad knew what happened to me. And he never said a word.”

  Josh looked past Tara’s file to the next unlabeled folder. He flipped it open and another face stared out at him. He pulled it closer to him. “Not just you.” He pulled pages from a third unlabeled file. “This is what someone wanted us to find.”

  Tara looked at the date recorded on the bottom of a fax. Less than a week before he died. “What was my dad doing?”

  “I don’t know, but we’re going to find out.”

  • • •

  Tara scanned the topmost file, and her forehead furrowed in concentration. A few handwritten notes were jotted down in the margin of the page alongside what appeared to be a bank account number written in red ink.

  Josh stood behind her and looked over her shoulder. He ran his finger down the page. “That date corresponds with the newspaper article about the attack in Tulsa.” He flipped the document back to show the next page.

  “Okay.”

  He turned his attention to his laptop on the table. “That year, Christopher Meyers was the district attorney in Tulsa. This,” Josh turned back the stapled pages again to reveal the last one in the stack they were studying, “shows that Meyers’s student loan was paid in full the same day he announced there wasn’t enough evidence to bring the case to trial.”

  Tara’s stomach turned. Maybe she should have skipped that last cup of coffee. Her eyes focused on the dollar amount. “He still owed thirty thousand dollars.”

  “And it went away.” Josh circled Tara and knelt in front of her. “Just like the evidence in the case against Wyatt — medical records, photos from the house, statements from neighbors. According to this report, at least one person in her apartment building saw Wyatt in the elevator on the night in question.” He waited a few minutes for that information to sink in. “Preston has been a very busy man. I’m surprised the Millers have any money left after all the payments he’s made to keep Wyatt’s reputation clean.”

  “There’s more.” He took the pages from her hands and flipped to one where he’d attached a green Post-it note. Josh reluctantly handed her the next pages. “Every one of the times Wyatt’s been charged is represented here — even a few we didn’t know about.”

  “Every case?”

  “All of them.”

  She slammed the page down on top of the stack. “How did my dad get all this?”

  “I wish I knew.” Josh leaned back in his chair and studied the sheer volume of pages arranged around him. “Probably someone who worked for Preston. He probably ticked off the wrong employee somewhere.”

  Josh pulled his phone from his pocket and scrolled though the list of numbers. It was time to call in a favor. Despite the lateness of the hour, he dialed the phone and waited for his friend to answer. “Hey Matt. Josh here. Remember our discussion about Wyatt Miller that night in the bar? I think I have something you’d find very interesting.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Well, Josh,” Ellen tapped the edge of her desk as she skimmed the paperwork he’d brought with him on his trip to New York. As he watched the older woman’s cheeks flush, he knew he had her.

  “I can’t say you didn’t warn me.” With her short-cropped reddish brown hair, Ellen didn’t look like a typical television network executive. She took her time looking back through the pile of notes he’d brought with him. “This could be a huge story. And where’d you find these documents?”

  “Tara’s basement. We think her dad was working on the story.”

  “He was a good man. We lost him too soon.”

  Josh chose to remain silent, not sure of exactly what to say. The man was a good businessman and he knew how to run the station, but Josh still hadn’t decided how he felt about Tara’s father never talking to her about what had happened.

  “Preston Miller is very well connected.” She paused. “Are you willing to take that risk?”

  Josh met the challenge without blinking. “This is a good story. If I lose my job over it, it still won’t be the worst thing that has happened to me.”

  “How does your dad feel about that?”

  Josh didn’t answer. Instead, he sat in his chair, his steepled fingers brushing the edge of the desk.

  “You haven’t talked with him?” Ellen pursed her lips and nodded at Josh. “Being out in the middle of nowhere hasn’t changed you a bit.” She smiled for the first time since the pair had walked into the room. “You sure you don’t want to come back to New York?”

  “You know I can’t do that.” He leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms in front of his chest.

  The muscle in her cheek twitched as she drew in a long breath. “I know. Maybe when your dad gets better.”

  “Maybe.” Josh nodded, happily going along with the lie they were both telling themselves. She’d talked with Chuck earlier in the week. She knew how his dad was doing.

  “And you’re sure about all this?”

  “I’ve verified all of his information myself — every piece is completely accurate.”

  “And that’s why I hated to lose you.” Ellen frowned slightly. “We’ve never had to do a retraction on a single one of your stories.” She pointed to an older man in a gray suit jacket in a group picture on her desk. “Do you think you could talk with Sullivan while you’re here? He’s been left with egg on his face one too many times.”

  “He was always an idiot. Can’t believe he took my place.”

  “He’s an idiot with very good connections.” Ellen sighed. “He’s sleeping with the vice president.”

  She took a drink from the refillable bottle of water on her desk. “I’ll bite, but with one caveat; most of these cases
happened several years ago. They’re old news. If you could just make certain this is still happening, we’d have a much stronger story.” She placed reading glasses on the bridge of her nose as she flipped through the papers they’d given her at the outset of their meeting. “Wyatt Miller’s trial is next month?”

  Josh nodded in confirmation.

  “Somehow I doubt that Preston is going to want his son to do time. They’re going to try to influence the case.”

  “I agree.” Josh answered.

  “Well, then,” Ellen relaxed into her seat. “I’ll have Sally get with you about the details. If your dad doesn’t want to carry the case, then we’ll run it here. Agreed?”

  “Agreed.” Josh stood and shook her hand before glancing at his watch. He only had an hour before he needed to be at the airport to catch his flight home. If he’d planned his trip correctly, no one even had time to realize he’d been gone.

  • • •

  Chuck placed a glass of bourbon on the coffee table in front of Josh. “So the trip to New York was productive?”

  “How did you even know about that?” Josh looked up at his father in surprise.

  “The network’s not that small.” Chuck gave a self-satisfied laugh.

  “Sally told you.”

  “I may have gotten a phone call.” Chuck raised a bushy gray eyebrow and winked at his son. “I’ve still got it.”

  Josh should have realized Sally’s chitchat as he was waiting to meet with Ellen was more than just casual conversation. Ever since she’d met his father on one of Chuck’ rare trips to New York, the young woman had been convinced Chuck would be the perfect match for her mother. “You know she’s wanting to set you up with her mom, not date you herself, right?”

  “Whatever works.” Chuck picked up his drink and swirled it in front of him. He stared at the amber liquid in the glass. “She’ll just have to stand in line.”

  When Josh received a text message from his father after his plane landed, he’d suspected he’d been caught. “So, are you going to tell me why you called me to come over?”