Dangerous Habits

by Susan Hunter

  However, KNET News has learned that Nash left a position at the Miami Star-Register, a Florida daily newspaper, following similar accusations. Nash did not respond to attempts to contact her. We’ll keep you posted on this developing story.

  “How did they get that story?”

  “How did they get it? How could you do it? Christ, Leah, this is your idea of taking it down a notch? You just tanked your career. I hope you haven’t taken the Times down with you.”

  “But, Max, I didn’t do it. Somebody set me up.”

  That little vein above his right eye was pulsing again. His hands pressed down so hard, he had to be leaving indentations on the top of his wooden desk.

  “Enough. I’ve had enough. Clean out your desk. You’re done.”

  “What? But, Max, please, listen, I—”

  “No! No more talk, no more chances. I don’t want your excuses. I don’t want your side of things. I don’t want anything from you. You’ve got the writing chops and the smarts, but it’s a waste, because you’ve got no judgment and no self-control. And no loyalty either.”

  “Max, I’m sorry. You have to believe me. I didn’t do this. But listen, Miller is the person who abused Lacey. I think he’s the one who pushed me off the bluff. Probably Sister Mattea, too, I just don’t have—”

  “You don’t have anything, Leah. Most of all, you don’t have a job here. You’re done.” He turned his chair around to face his computer as though I’d already left, his solid back a bulwark against any attempt to explain.

  I turned and went to my desk. Courtnee and Miguel were there, their eyes wide with sympathy and shock. I didn’t say a word, just walked to the copy machine, dumped a ream of paper out of the box sitting next to it, and carried the empty container to my desk.

  “Chica, what happened? What was Max talking about?”

  I shook my head. I didn’t trust my voice not to shake as well, so I said nothing as I pulled open drawers and threw their contents into the box.

  “When my boyfriend Jace broke up with me, I sent his new skank girlfriend some texts like that. Didn’t you know you can buy a phone at Target for, like, really cheap for stuff like that?” Courtnee gave me what I guessed was her version of comfort and solidarity.

  “I know you didn’t do that. You wouldn’t do anything so crazy?”

  The slight uptick on the end of his declaration made me feel as bad as anything Max had said. He wasn’t sure I hadn’t.

  “No. I didn’t do it. Someone set me up.”

  “Ohhh.” Courtnee nodded with sudden comprehension. “I’ve seen that on Pretty Little Liars. You know, where somebody wants like Hannah or Aria or somebody to get blamed, so they make it like she did something only she didn’t. Only sometimes she did, so it’s not really fake, but—”

  “Who would do that?”

  “You know who. The same person who pushed me off the bluff.”

  Courtnee’s eyes got even bigger. “Somebody pushed you? Who?”

  I didn’t answer, just swiped my arm across the top of my desk and swept everything into the box. Then I slung my purse over my shoulder, picked up my belongings, and awkwardly tottered out. Before I got down the hall, the box was lifted from my hands, and Miguel was beside me.

  “I know you didn’t send those texts. I know you didn’t stalk the Caldwells. But chica, I don’t think Miller abused Lacey.”

  “Et tu, Miguel?”

  I took the box from him and tossed it in the backseat. I got in the car and drove away.

  Twenty-Seven

  My cell phone rang. I let it go to voicemail. Then it rang again, and again, and again all the way home. I ignored them all. I pulled into the driveway, then trudged in the house with my box of stuff and set it down on the counter. Thank God, my mother was out of town, delivering some legal papers in Appleton. She wouldn’t be back until late, and I wouldn’t have to go over this with her—as long as she didn’t catch the news or hear it on her car radio.

  I pulled out my phone and saw the missed calls were from Miguel, from Coop, from Courtnee, one from Rich Givens, a KNET reporter, even one from Ben. Great. He probably wanted to tell me what a nice photo that was of me on the noon news.

  Nothing from Karen. That was weird. She should’ve called by now to tell me what was going on with Georgia’s complaint. I punched in her number, but it went straight to voicemail. I tried the office line, then realized it was lunch time and they were closed.

  How had KNET gotten the story? It had to be Ross. That jerk. He had to know it wasn’t true by now. He also knew that once it was out there, no matter what retractions and corrections were made, all people would remember was that Leah Nash was some kind of stalker, wasn’t she?

  I sat down on the rocker and closed my eyes. I woke when my phone rang an hour later. Before I could say hello, the caller started talking.

  “Leah, I promised Ben I wouldn’t forget to tell you, but then I did, but it’s not really my fault, because it was kind of crazy with you getting fired and all. And I called before, but you didn’t answer.”

  “Who is this?” I shook my head to clear the grogginess, then immediately regretted it.

  “It’s me. Courtnee. Are you having a concussion? I’m talking about Ben. Ben Kalek. You know, Miller Caldwell’s nephew. He came to see you, but it was kinda awkward, ’cause we could hear Max yelling at you. I mean, everyone in the building could hear Max yelling, right? So, he said he’d come back later, but I said you might not be here later, right? And—”

  “Wait. Ben Kalek is Miller Caldwell’s nephew?”

  “Well, duh, yeah—”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Well, his grandma lives next door to my grandma, doesn’t she? Of course, his grandma is dead, so she doesn’t live there anymore. I mean, he’s not blood nephew, just marriage nephew. His mom is Georgia Caldwell’s sister. His grandma is their mom. Or she used to be—”

  Courtnee droned on, while I tried to grab just one of the dozen thoughts flashing through my befuddled brain. Ben was Georgia Caldwell’s nephew. Ben had easy access to my phone. Ben just happened to meet me at Miguel’s. It made sense that Miller or Georgia would use him.

  Ben was an IT guy. Who knew what kind of damage he could do? Even if the stalking set-up fizzled out once Karen dealt with the DA, the Caldwells could keep making major trouble for me. With access to my phone, Ben could screw up my whole life—identity theft, ruined credit scores, bad recommendations, huge debt. The worst case scenarios of the wired world danced through my head as Courtnee yammered on.

  “So, like, I promised Ben I’d tell you he stopped and wants you to call him. He’s a hottie, Leah, and you know you don’t get that many chances at your age—”

  “What’s his number, Courtnee?”

  “987-555-0136.”

  I hung up without saying goodbye.

  I just sat there for a minute, thinking about what to do. I should call Karen, but she’d just try to talk me out of what I wanted to do. Which was confront Ben. Though I could see where that might not be a good idea just yet. Maybe I should call Karen and tell her that I wanted her to come with me to talk to Ben. She could be a witness and—my internal debate was cut short by the ringing of my cell phone.

  It probably isn’t the smartest thing I’ve ever done. I’m sorry to say it’s not the dumbest either. But once my caller asked for a meeting, I had no choice.

  The EAT diner is one of the worst restaurants in Himmel, but one of the best places for a quiet meeting, because it’s almost always empty. As I pushed open the door, I spotted my quarry and headed to the last booth on the left. There was no one else in the diner.

  “Leah, thanks for coming. I got you a coffee,” he said, pushing it toward my side of the table before blurting out, “My God, what happened to your face?”

  I lowered myself into place, ignoring the screams of all my major muscle groups as I tried to make it look natural and easy. No way did I want him to know how bad I was hurting from the
other night.

  “I’m sorry, that was rude.”

  “Not as rude as shoving someone over the river bluff though, is it? Why did you call me, Miller? Should I be expecting Ross and his minions to jump out from the kitchen and arrest me for stalking you?”

  “Leah, that’s what I want to talk to you about. Or part of it—”

  “Really. Actually, there’s one or two things I want to talk to you about. But you go first.” Under the table I hit record on my phone.

  “I don’t know quite how to start.”

  “How about with what you did to my sister?”

  “Leah, I know what you think, but you have to believe me, I never touched Lacey, never thought of her that way, I never would. I couldn’t.”

  “Oh, really? Then why did you pay for her online memorial? Why did you post on it anonymously every year since her death, thanking her for making your life less difficult? Did you meet her that night, Miller? Was it planned, or did you just run into her on your way back to the dinner?

  “Did she tell you that she was going to expose you? Is that why you killed her? Or was it not you at all, Miller? Was it Georgia? Did she find out about you, and decide to take care of the Lacey problem, so nothing would ever come out that would affect your political career or her social position?”

  “No, Leah, no. Just hear me out, then I’ll answer anything you ask.”

  He started speaking in a low monotone, looking down as his hands turned his coffee cup in half circles to the left, then to the right.

  “It was the last weekend in June. Lacey was supposed to take Charlotte and Sebastian to a movie, and they were very excited. At the last minute Georgia decided to take the children with her to her mother’s for a few days. I didn’t know she’d forgotten to call Lacey and cancel. I thought I was alone for the weekend.”

  He paused, looked at me, cleared his throat then looked back down and continued.

  “A friend stopped to see me. We were together, and I didn’t hear Lacey when she knocked on the front door. She came in. She saw us in the study. We were in a … compromising position. For a minute, our eyes met. Then she turned and ran out. I went after her, but she’d ridden her bicycle over, and she was already too far down the path for me to catch her.

  “I panicked. I could see my whole life crumbling, everything I worked for, everything I loved. All in the power of a 14-year-old girl. I didn’t know what to do, what to say, how to fix it. Every time the phone rang, I expected it to be Georgia saying Lacey had called her. By evening I was a wreck.

  “Finally, I called Lacey. As soon as she came on the line, I said, ‘I want you to know. Whatever you saw this afternoon, it isn’t what you think. It was just a mistake. I don’t want you to—’ I don’t even know what excuse I was going to make, but she cut me off. I’ll never forget what she said.

  “ ‘Mr. Caldwell, I’m sorry. I was going to call you to apologize. I forgot all about babysitting this afternoon. My mom says I have too many things on my plate. I guess she’s right. I don’t think I’ll have time to babysit for you anymore.’

  “I knew she was there. I saw her. Yet it sounded like she wasn’t going to say anything about it. I had to be sure. ‘Lacey, I just want to say that sometimes things are very different from the way they look. And if anyone were to misinterpret things, well, they might not mean to but they could hurt innocent people. And I’m trying to say—’

  “She wouldn’t let me finish. She just said that her mother said she needed to set priorities, and she was really sorry she forgot to come over. That was it. And there I was, my entire future resting in the hands of an adolescent. But she never said a word to me about it again, or I presume to anyone else.

  “I heard about her problems later of course, but then when she died so shockingly, I was stunned. I wanted to do something to mark the passing of your truly remarkable sister, so I funded the online remembrance. I asked Mary Beth to have your mother think it was just part of the services she’d paid for.

  “When I talked with you last week, and it became clear you suspected me and that you weren’t going to stop asking questions, I spoke to Georgia. I told her you were investigating and that you had mistaken ideas, but that there was something I did need to tell her. She wouldn’t let me. She got hysterical and I—I backed away. Then she got the texts from you and she went to the police.

  “I’m sorry. I understand how angry you are. I know you were just trying to force the issue, but you don’t need to do that anymore. I’ve decided to come out with the truth. And I’ll see the investigation into your texts is dropped.”

  “Uh-huh. I suppose this girlfriend can give you an alibi for the night Lacey was killed? She’ll say you were meeting her, not Lacey, the night you walked out on the fundraiser?”

  “Leah, you don’t understand.”

  “Sure I do. You may get burned a little for having an affair, but you confess, say a few mea culpas with Georgia by your side, and you’re good to go. It works for politicians all the time, doesn’t it? And look what a great guy you are, taking pity on crazy stalker Leah Nash and forgiving her for sending those nasty texts to your wife.”

  “You’re not listening. I wasn’t having an affair with a woman. I was with a man. My lover is a man. I’m gay.”

  I was shocked into silence.

  “I’m gay. And I’m coming out. I’m ending my marriage, hurting and possibly alienating my children, ruining my political career, and breaking my father’s heart. But I’ve spent every day of my life since I was 13 years old fearing exposure, humiliation, and exile from my family and my faith because of who I am. I can’t do it anymore.”

  I was having trouble reconciling what I thought I knew with what he was telling me.

  “But Miller, all these years—you supported the anti-gay marriage amendment. Georgia chairs the Mothers Against Same Sex Marriage coalition. How—”

  “How could I be such a fraud? Please, Leah, you have no trouble accusing me of heinous sexual crimes, and even murder, but you can’t bring yourself to think I’m a hypocrite?”

  “You’re saying that you wouldn’t have abused Lacey, because you’re sexually attracted to men.”

  “No, I’m saying that I’m not sexually attracted to children. That I have been unfaithful emotionally and physically to my wife many times, but always with adult men. I’m saying that the night I left Paul Karr’s office, I was going to meet my lover. If necessary, he has agreed to make a statement, but I hope I don’t need to invade his privacy as mine is stripped bare.”

  He spoke with such weary resignation that it was hard to hold onto my conviction that he was guilty. I wondered how his children would cope with the news, and I even felt a twinge of sympathy for Georgia.

  “All right, say it’s true. You didn’t have anything to do with Lacey’s abuse or her death. But, Miller, I didn’t send those texts to Georgia. In fact, up until a minute ago, I was convinced that you or Georgia got your nephew Ben to steal my phone and set me up.”

  “Ben? I don’t understand. What does he have to do with anything?”

  “I’m not sure now, but I met him at a party Saturday night. The next day my phone was missing. I searched everywhere, and Ben had plenty of opportunity to take it.”

  “But, why would he? And why would he send messages to Georgia, suggesting that if I didn’t get out of the race, I’d be sorry, that she was married to a fraud, that both of us were going to be sorry?”

  “I thought you two had asked him to do it, so you could get me off your back. I’d get arrested or at the very least fired and have my credibility destroyed. Good plan, by the way. Whoever designed it. Max canned me today, and I made the noon news as crazy stalker.”

  “I’m sorry, Leah.”

  “Yeah, well, just don’t take it out on Max. I know he’s got a loan application at the bank, and he’s been taking heat for me.”

  “Leah, you said earlier that someone pushed you off the river bluff? Is that true?”

 
“Yeah. Sunday night.”

  “Who? Was it to do with Lacey’s death?”

  “Well, I don’t think it was someone unhappy with my coverage of the Elks Pancake Breakfast. I thought it was you. Or Georgia. If it wasn’t, I don’t know who. Or why. Just for the record, where were you Sunday night?”

  “I was at St. Stephen’s rectory, talking with Father Lindstrom, from around 8:30 to midnight.”

  “Pretty good alibi. How about Georgia?”

  “You can’t seriously think—” but looking at my face, it was clear I did seriously think. So he added, “She was with my campaign manager, going over a speech she gave yesterday at the Omico Women’s Club.”

  “That can be verified?”

  He nodded.

  “Miller, I’m sorry that my investigation into Lacey’s death has pushed you to the brink like this. I only want to find the truth.”

  “And that will set us free, Leah? I’m not so sure.”

  Twenty-Eight

  I felt sick. Confused. And mad as hell. Coop must have warned me off Miller because he knew who really molested Lacey. He knew, and he didn’t tell me. Did that mean he knew who killed Lacey? Did he even believe Lacey was murdered? Or that I was pushed? Or that Sister Mattea was?

  How could he stand by and let me waste so much time on the wrong man? I reached for my phone to call him, then put it back down. To hell with him. He didn’t trust me enough to tell me what was going on with my own sister’s case, I wasn’t going to beg him for information. If he figured it out, I could too.

  Who else had means, motive, and opportunity? There was still Paul Karr, but really? I had nothing but Marilyn’s assertion that he wasn’t home when he said he was. And she was a bitter, vindictive woman who hated my mother. It was Marilyn’s word against Paul’s, and I just didn’t think it was Paul.