by Chris Taylor
Coming to a stop beside the security booth, she pressed the button on her armrest and lowered the window. She had her security pass at the ready. Recognizing her as the Minister’s niece, the guard glanced cursorily at her credentials and waved her through.
With the working day not yet in full swing, finding a parking space inside the lot wasn’t difficult. Within minutes, she located an empty spot a short distance from the bank of elevators.
She walked toward them and wiped sweaty palms on her skirt. Her nerves hadn’t diminished over the course of her commute. If anything, they’d escalated. She swallowed in an effort to alleviate the dryness in her throat and prayed the meeting wouldn’t be too traumatic. For either of them.
It wouldn’t be easy for someone like her uncle to realize his secret had been discovered: a secret he’d kept hidden for more decades than she cared to consider.
The elevator arrived and the doors slid open without a sound. Stepping inside the plush glass-and-aluminium space, she hit the number of her uncle’s floor and counted down the seconds to his floor.
All too soon, the elevator chimed and the doors slid open. Her belly took a somersault. Taking a big breath and squaring her shoulders, she marched down the corridor toward the Minister’s Office before her courage could give out.
To say that her uncle was surprised to see her was an understatement, but he greeted her with his usual wide smile and effusive hug.
“Princess, fancy finding you in my neck of the woods. That’s twice in one week! How lucky am I?”
Chloe looked around the well-appointed room. “Hello, Uncle Ronnie. We… We need to talk.”
He frowned, but his expression remained unconcerned. “Of course. I’ve told you my door’s always open.”
Now that the moment was upon her, Chloe searched desperately for the right words. Despite the warm day unfolding outside, heavy damask curtains were drawn against the light, throwing the room into deep shadows. An antique lamp on the corner of her uncle’s massive wooden desk shone a circle of feeble light around the office.
“Don’t you want to open the curtains, Uncle? It’s kind of dark in here.”
“I don’t mind the dark. I can think better that way.”
Chloe’s gaze was drawn to a familiar photograph of her aunt and her cousin that sat in its usual spot near her uncle’s computer. Beside the picture was a black leather riding crop.
Her stomach somersaulted. Recognition and revulsion rushed through her, leaving her faint. Her uncle hurried to her side, concern clouding his eyes.
“Chloe, are you all right? You’ve gone pale. Here, take a seat. I’ll fetch you a glass of water.”
Before she could protest, he left the room. Chloe collapsed into the richly upholstered leather armchair that stood opposite the desk and willed her trembling to cease.
The riding crop.
Her riding crop. The one Charlie had spoken about. The one her uncle had assured her was kept on her cousin’s nightstand.
Nausea swirled in her belly. If she’d needed any further proof that he’d lied to her—not once, but over and over again—there it was.
Still, it was possible her cousin had dropped by yesterday after a session at the stables. It was possible he hadn’t lied about everything, but finding the crop next to his computer was damning just the same.
The door to the office opened and her uncle re-entered carrying a tall glass of iced water. With her thoughts still in turmoil, Chloe couldn’t even muster a thank you.
“Where’s Maria?” she asked.
“She’s in Bali. She left yesterday morning for a couple of weeks. I forgot to tell you. She’s gone over with a few of her university friends. They’re kicking up their heels before they have to knuckle down to yearly exams.”
Chloe’s heart sank. It wasn’t Maria who’d left the riding crop behind.
Her uncle moved to take a seat in the chair opposite her and adjusted his bulk until he was comfortable. He seemed unconcerned about her question and even less concerned about her lack of response.
He steepled his fingers and rested his chin on his hands, his expression thoughtful.
“Tell me what this is all about, Princess. It’s very unlike you to come charging in here without notice. Are your parents all right? Has something happened?”
Chloe stared at him, knowing she had no choice but to say it. Gripping the chair with white-knuckled fingers, she blurted it out.
“Uncle Ronnie, I know you’re homosexual. Or bisexual. Or…or something.”
Heat scorched her face, her neck, her ears. Every part of her burned. Her uncle stared at her in shock, his eyes wide—his expression incredulous.
And then he laughed. Huge belly laughs that jiggled his formidable girth.
Chloe sat paralyzed, unable to speak, to even utter a sound. Had she miscalculated so badly? Was her uncle innocent of everything she’d thought? Or was he just a very good liar?
Confused and embarrassed, she blinked back tears. The Minister’s expression sobered. He leaned forward and grasped her hands, his voice gentle. “Chloe, Chloe, Chloe, where on earth did you hear that? How could you even think something so preposterous?”
She pulled her hands away from his and looked down at her lap. Gathering her courage, she stared at him, her eyes narrowed in accusation.
“Yesterday, I-I met with Charlie Stanford. He told me he and you—that you and he…were…were lovers. I also spoke to Eric Stoltenberg. He said it was you who requested he access Declan Munro’s personnel file. Declan told me about your…your approach to him at the party and how you made sexual advances toward him at the bar.”
Her voice hitched. She took a deep breath and tried to slow the pounding of her heart. “It was you, Uncle Ronnie. It was you. All this time, I’ve been turning myself inside out wondering how a man as decent and honorable as Declan Munro could be guilty of such a heinous crime. All of the evidence pointed toward his guilt. I even spoke with you about it, about the questions I had and you lied to me. You looked me in the eye and lied to me. I almost ruined a man’s life because of you. As long as I live, I will never forgive you.”
The Minister merely shook his head slowly from side to side, his expression filled with sadness and regret.
“Dear, dear, dear, what some people will say in times of trouble. Charlie Stanford’s your primary witness against the Munro boy, isn’t he? The one who “apparently” discovered Munro’s penchant for kiddie porn?”
Chloe’s stomach clenched, but she nodded.
“I shouldn’t be telling you this, but Stanford’s in the process of being dishonorably discharged from the AFP. He’s been under investigation for some time for drug dealing. Syringes were found in his locker, along with suspicious bags of white powder. An arrest is expected to be made any day. Once it gets out, his testimony will be worth squat.”
Chloe’s brow knitted in surprise. “Why didn’t you tell me this on Tuesday?”
Her uncle shrugged. “I only found out about it yesterday afternoon. It’s been a hush-hush undercover operation. They didn’t want to scare away the players. Only the immediate people involved in the investigation know about it.”
Chloe’s mind spun.
Could her uncle be telling the truth? Was it possible Charlie had made it all up? Could he be that good a liar?
She wasn’t prepared to dismiss her suspicions so quickly. “What about Eric Stoltenberg? You told me you had no idea why he’d requested access to personnel files. He told the HR manager at the time, and me yesterday, that he was acting on your orders. Are you going to tell me he’s a liar, too?”
The Minister remained unmoved. “Eric Stoltenberg is in love with me. He has delusions that I return his feelings. I’ve done nothing to encourage him, but there you have it. The last time we spoke about it, I told him in no uncertain terms that I wasn’t and never would be in love with him. He stormed out of my office in a fit of pique. I can only imagine this…revelation of his is nothing more than so
ur grapes.”
Chloe tried desperately to hold onto her anger. She’d come there determined to confront him, certain in her knowledge that he was responsible for all that had befallen Declan—and more.
Unable to sit still, she jumped out of her chair and rounded on him, her anger resurfacing.
“And how do you explain Agent Munro’s revelations? Is he deluded, too? Don’t even try to convince me he lied. You told me you’d never met him.”
Her uncle grimaced with annoyance. “I told you I couldn’t remember meeting him. There’s a difference, Princess.”
“I don’t believe you. It was only six months ago and I’m damn sure you’d remember approaching him for sex,” she retorted, her breath coming fast.
“I’m sure I would too,” he replied, his expression remaining calm.
“So…so you’re denying it? Is that what you’re doing? You’re sitting there and calling Agent Munro a liar.”
The Minister sighed and pushed away from his chair and closed the distance between them. Leaning close, he brushed an errant strand of hair off her face, his gaze once again filled with regret.
“You always did have an amazing imagination, Princess. From the time you were a little girl, you could keep us entertained with the most fantastical stories. Half the time, I had to remind myself they weren’t true, but just some made-up, imaginary tale from a bright little girl who was smart enough to own the stars.”
She stared at him with a sinking feeling. He’d been lying all along. No one forgot they’d propositioned someone for sex. Not unless they had something to hide. Like she’d told him, she’d never believe Declan hadn’t told her the truth. Along with the evidence she’d obtained from Charlie and even Eric, it was obvious her uncle was caught up in a web of deceit so intricate that maybe even he could no longer grasp the complexity of it.
The harsh reality of the situation hit her anew like a slab of concrete.
Her uncle was responsible for framing Declan. He’d requested, cajoled, coerced Eric and Charlie to assist him in his endeavour and ultimately, had been prepared to sit back and ruin an innocent man’s life.
And why?
Because his sexual advances had been rejected. Was he really such a narcissist? She couldn’t believe she was even thinking of him in those terms. It was madness. Absolute insanity. And yet, sadly, she knew deep inside her it was true.
“I’ve heard enough,” she said, determined to leave and never look back. She’d leave it to the taskforce to elicit the finer details. She had all she needed.
She collected her briefcase from off the floor where she’d left it and turned toward the door.
“It was all his own fault, you know.”
She paused and her heart skipped a beat. She turned back around to face him. “Excuse me?”
“I said it was all his own fault. Declan Munro. He arrived at that function in the company of another man, another very good looking man. Add to that, the fact he was over thirty, buffed and beautiful and what was I expected to think?
“Of course I thought he was gay. It was a natural assumption. How was I to know the man he’d arrived with was his brother?”
Chloe stared at her uncle in horror, frozen in place.
“I made a move on him at the bar and he rebuffed me in the most humiliating way. Me, the Minister for Home Affairs, the man who could make or break his career. It was an unforgivable mistake and one I couldn’t overlook. I was determined to make him pay.”
Chloe shook her head with increasing vehemence. “Stop, please. Uncle Ronnie, please stop.”
The Minister smiled. “But you were so eager to hear all the details, Princess. You’ve been hounding me for the truth from the moment you arrived.” He took hold of her arm and dragged her across the room, forcing her into the chair she’d recently vacated.
“There. That’s better. The least you can do is hear me out.” He smiled again and moved slightly away.
“At first, I slunk away and licked my wounds, determined to be more careful in the future, but then I discovered Declan Munro wasn’t any ordinary AFP recruit. He was a member of a very prominent family, one with a long and enviable relationship with law enforcement. I assume you know his father was the first aboriginal appointed to the bench of the New South Wales District Court?”
Chloe bit her lip and nodded, praying her uncle’s tirade would soon be over.
“It was then I experienced a little concern. Someone as well connected as Declan Munro could cause me a serious amount of trouble if he chose to speak about our unfortunate encounter. Someone like Declan Munro might find a sympathetic ear… I couldn’t afford to take the risk. It was then I started out to destroy him.”
He turned to Chloe, his arms outstretched in supplication. “Don’t you see? I had no choice! It was either him, or me.”
Tears formed in Chloe’s eyes. She shook her head in disbelief. How could this be the uncle she’d known and loved all her life?
“Of course, there’s nothing illegal about being gay, but I’d been hiding behind the protection of a long-standing marriage. It’s an insult the voting public would be unlikely to forgive. I had your aunt and cousin to consider. My career in politics would be over. I could always try and brush off Munro’s accusations as a simple misunderstanding—we’d been at a party, after all and the alcohol had flowed freely. I’d taken care to note that Munro had been drinking.
“But there were a couple of problems with this course of action. The first one was of course, that Munro had no reason to lie. With his background and impeccable service record, he would be considered a reliable source of information.”
He drew in a deep breath and strode across the room. “The other reason had everything to do with me. I’ve lost count of the number of recruits I’ve approached over my years in this office. There are many who could come forward and support Munro’s allegations, if it came to that. While I was confident most would remain loyal, there are a handful with whom I parted on let’s say…less than friendly terms.
“I stewed over the dilemma for weeks and then, it came to me. Rather than wait and hope that Munro stayed quiet, I decided to preempt the battle. I decided to strike Munro where it would hurt the most, discrediting him to the point that no one, not even the lowliest member of the AFP, would believe a word he said. It wouldn’t matter if a jury believed his protestations of innocence. The damage to his reputation would have already been done. Munro’s life and career as he’d known it would be over.” He chuckled.
Chloe felt sick.
“The plan was beyond brilliant,” he enthused. “I realized I needed an ally in Munro’s unit. I canvassed various options and stumbled across Charlie—or Chip as I’m fond of calling him. It was an added bonus to discover Chip was gay. It meant that not only would he be instrumental in bringing Declan Munro down, he could also be a plaything.”
Chloe moaned in anguish. Her stomach rebelled at his words. She wanted to put her hands up over her ears and scream to block them out, but her hands remained frozen in her lap.
The Minister smiled. “We spent a thoroughly delightful month together before I approached him about the problem of Declan Munro. By then, Chip was ready to do anything I asked of him. And so it began…”
His grin widened and Chloe could tell he was lost in his memories. She eased herself out of the chair, intent on escaping the man she no longer recognized.
She made it to the door without incident, barely daring to breathe. Her uncle looked up, but remained where he was. His voice reached out to her where she stood outside in the corridor.
“As I said, Princess. Declan Munro had nobody but himself to blame.”
CHAPTER 25
Chloe’s hand shook uncontrollably as she swiped at the tears that coursed down her cheeks and stumbled out of the elevator. She headed toward her car. Somehow, she managed to turn the key in the ignition and get herself out of the parking station. The same security guard offered her a wave, but she barely registered his
presence through the anguish that tore her apart. Exiting the car park, she drove barely a hundred yards before she pulled over onto the side of the road and gave into the pain that crippled her.
Her uncle had lived a lie, probably for most of his life. He’d lied to his family, his staff, his constituents. She didn’t know if her aunt was wise to the subterfuge, but even if she was, that didn’t excuse it.
What Chloe couldn’t understand was why he’d gone to such lengths to hide his sexuality. They were living in the twenty-first century. Being gay was hardly a death sentence.
Sure, he might have to resign his ministerial position, but it seemed a small price to pay for the freedom to live his life true.
Chloe swallowed a sob. It wasn’t her uncle’s life-long deception and the knowledge that he was gay that caused the deep coldness that had settled in her belly. What had her limbs trembling like she was in the throes of a fever was knowing that her uncle had been prepared to ruin Declan’s life over something as trivial as a knockback.
The realization horrified her. People received knockbacks all the time. Some mattered, some didn’t. Some of them were forgotten quickly, some of them took a lot longer. The fact was, having someone turn you down was a part of life.
Declan had turned her uncle down. He’d passed on her uncle’s offer to sleep with him. And her uncle had sought revenge.
He couldn’t bear the thought of an underling knocking him back and telling him no. His actions were nothing more than that of a spoiled child who’d been refused a coveted toy. Was he really such a narcissist? The very thought of what he’d done made her ill.
Sucking in a lungful of air, Chloe fumbled for her phone. She punched in Declan’s number.
