by Lee Winter
Catherine sucked in a breath. “I wrote about protecting our privacy. A fundamental right. Are you saying my career got destroyed for that?”
“Ironic, isn’t it? Know what else is ironic? Since the database has gone live, everything you warned about has happened. Non-criminals are in the database. One in five Americans is already in there, and it’s growing constantly. More and more innocent people get swept in there every day. Personal privacy gone in the blink of an eye.” She snapped her fingers. “But it doesn’t matter that your concerns were all valid. You stepped on certain toes, so your destruction was necessary.”
“Whose toes? The FBI’s?”
“Well, you were making their lives hellishly difficult, but no. They didn’t need to get their hands dirty, not when they had an ally to do it for them.”
“Who?”
Michelle paused. “Lionel Ayers ordered your career’s destruction.”
“No.” Catherine felt the air whoosh out of her lungs. It was ludicrous. Her father wouldn’t do that.
Lauren scowled at Michelle. “You’re lying.”
“Not at all. Cat’s father paid handsomely for her fall from grace. He visited me personally at the office to make sure I understood I was to use any means necessary.”
“Any means,” Lauren retorted. “I see you took him literally.”
“I did what I had to.” Michelle’s gaze hardened. “I did my job.”
“This makes no sense. I met Lionel. He doesn’t hate Catherine, and he doesn’t want her to suffer. I mean, I think he’s secretly proud of her. He just wants…” She stopped.
“Yes?” Michelle probed. “What does he want?”
“Profit. Power. Control.”
“Exactly. And although he didn’t have a stake in the NGI database or what the FBI was up to, he was developing MediCache at the exact moment Catherine had begun telling everyone how terrible biometric storage is for our personal safety and security. The timing could not have been worse. He couldn’t risk Catherine derailing his grand plans.”
“This is insane,” Catherine said. “He wouldn’t—”
“I was there. I watched him write the check. Six figures, in case you’re wondering.”
“Six figures, huh?” Lauren glowered. “So that’s how much it takes? Do you do this often? Bed your targets to seal deals?”
Michelle smiled. “Which answer would bother you more?”
“You don’t even care about the lengths you went to for this?”
“This is just a body.” She waved at herself. “It’s an effective means to an end, and something your fiancée seemed to enjoy having a great deal. I use whatever assets I have that are most useful. But to me, my body’s not really important. My mind is the sacrosanct thing. That, I am extremely careful about sharing.”
Lauren’s nostrils flared.
Catherine looked away, feeling sick. Just a body. Her thoughts hurtled back. How much had Michelle ever shared with her? Nothing much came to mind. Of course Michelle had kept her emotional distance. Why wouldn’t she? She had a husband and another life to go home to.
“How do you sleep at night?” Disgust coated Lauren’s words.
“Ordinarily quite well.” Michelle looked unperturbed. “But not right now. Which is where you two come in. The story that has to be told. The dangers ahead.”
“What’s your interest in all this?” Catherine asked.
“I’m a student of history. Always have been.”
“Oh, sure,” Lauren said. “You expect us to believe this is all about the greater good?”
“Strange as it sounds, it’s true. I was listening to Hickory give his speech at the fair. I was standing there, in the shadows, monitoring public response to it, thinking yet again how catastrophic the technology was, and what it might mean for society, ten, twenty, fifty years down the track when it’s pervasive. And I suddenly see Cat.”
Her gaze flicked to Catherine. “It was like I’d conjured you up out of thin air—the one reporter I know who’s tenacious and clever, undaunted, and doesn’t care if she writes an unpopular story. The same woman who grasps the big picture and had already condemned the data chip in her Hickory profile a week ago. If anyone could pursue this story to its bitter end, it was you.”
“So, you’re here to get me to do what you lack the courage to do?” Catherine asked. “You won’t resign and walk away from this in protest, so you rope us in to doing your dirty work?”
“What good would me resigning do? I’d be easily replaced. The chip can’t be stopped so readily. Not by me. But by you? I saw what you did with SmartPay.”
“Oh yes, SmartPay. We met your charming husband on that job.”
Michelle’s mask slammed down so fast it was breathtaking. “He…is not relevant to any of this.”
“Is it true your marriage ended after you took the hit job on Catherine?” Lauren asked.
Michelle’s expression became tight. “I’ve said all there is to say on this. But if you plan to stop MediCache, you have three days.”
“What happens then?” Catherine asked.
“The FBI will conclude it’s reviewed the Mexicans’ case and will recommend they support Ansom’s new chip. They will suggest other security departments find uses for it, too. Any criticisms of the chip will be met with loud suggestions that the critic is ‘soft on terror.’” Her fingers curled into air quotes. “You have three days, or there’s no going back. Humanity will cross a line. You need to put aside your distaste for me and look at the facts. Stop this while we still can.”
With that, she turned and strode back toward the house.
Catherine watched her go, wondering how much of any of this was even true. She sounded sincere. But then she always had.
“Hey,” Lauren whispered, her hand settling on the small of Catherine’s back. “You okay?”
“I suppose so.” Catherine felt tired. It was too much. “What are your thoughts?”
“Is she playing us? She’s manipulative. She clearly wants us to do this for her. Do you buy her greater good line?”
“I don’t know. But even if she’s manipulating us to get us involved, it doesn’t make her wrong. This embedded chip scheme is a line that shouldn’t be crossed.”
Lauren nodded. “Right, then we need to research this. Go down the rabbit hole.”
“Yes.” Catherine straightened. “I believe I know where to start. The Grand Millennium.”
“Oh?”
“It’s the hotel chain my parents always stay at.”
“Your parents…who tried to ruin you.”
“I hadn’t forgotten. We’ll be having a little discussion about that, too.” She steeled her shoulders.
“Oh.” Lauren’s eyes widened. “Oh, hell.”
“Exactly.”
Chapter 19 –
The One I Want
The drive home was sobering. Lauren wished she could say something to reassure Catherine. But how do you say sorry your parents are total bastards who paid for your career to be blown to hell? Or at least that was Lionel’s excuse. Did Victoria even know the depths to which her husband had sunk? Lauren was pretty sure that was a question she shouldn’t ask her brooding fiancée.
Catherine was chewing her bottom lip as she stared out the window.
With a worried glance at her, Lauren then turned into her dad’s long driveway. “You know, maybe I should be the one to confront Lionel.”
“No.”
“Just no? If you’re planning a frontal assault, we should be on the same page.”
“There is no ‘we’ in this. It’s time the Ayers family cleaned house. Witnesses not required.”
“Catherine, it’s not about me witnessing something messy. I thought you could use the support.”
“No. I don’t need it. And I’d like to get it over with as so
on as possible.”
“And I think maybe you need to take a breath and calm down before you do anything rash. If you rush blindly over there without thinking this through, things could blow up worse.”
Catherine’s expression was pure frost. “The more I think about it, the more enraged I get that my father did this to me. He tried to ruin me. He came close to succeeding. So, I’m adopting the scorched-earth policy as of right now.”
“Uh…now?”
“No time like the present.” She paused. “I’ll call a cab to the Grand Millennium. I’m aware I’m in no condition to drive, even if I could manhandle this beast.” She waved at the dash.
“It’s not that. I mean, now… Ah, remember it’s the bachelorette party in an hour or so? My brothers have been planning it for us all week. Can your scorched-earth option wait until the morning? Which might work out better, because you need to be rested and fresh for this.” She shot her a hopeful smile as they finally pulled up.
Catherine slowly eyed her. “Are you serious?”
Turning off the engine, Lauren met her expression evenly. It had been a long time since she’d had to face this level of wrath from Catherine. She braced herself. “Yes.”
“By all means, the ritualistic carousal of your infantile brothers should come ahead of my family’s betrayal.”
Sucking in a deep breath, Lauren said, “Catherine, I can see you’re really angry, but I’m not your enemy. I’m the woman who loves you. We’re on the same team.”
“You would not understand.”
“I know.” Lauren lifted her hands. “I know. I get that I’m lucky with my family. And I know the timing is the pits. But how about this…” Her hand snaked out to Catherine’s. “Maybe you could just put in a brief appearance at our party and try not to murder my infantile brothers, who I know probably deserve it, and you can wreak divine retribution on your parents tomorrow when you’ve slept on it.” She swallowed. “But I will understand if you say no to the party. My brothers will just have to deal with it, okay? Besides, they might be having so much fun they won’t even notice you’re not there.” She offered a reassuring grin.
Catherine regarded her. “And would you notice?”
Lauren looked down at their entangled fingers, unsure whether now was a good time to lie.
Sighing, Catherine said, “I’m fairly sure this engagement party wouldn’t meet the minimum requirements with only half the couple there.”
Lauren said nothing. She felt bad enough even asking.
“All right. I’ll go for a little bit. But if your brothers ask me to do a Grease medley tonight, so help me I’ll use a wrench on their softest parts.”
“I hear you.” Lauren exhaled in relief. “No Travolta medleys. Check. And I’m really sorry about all of this. Everything. Michelle, your parents, and the lousy timing of the party.”
Opening the vehicle’s door, Catherine turned back to her. “Unconditional family love is not something to take for granted. Never forget that.”
“Yeah.” Lauren hated the aching pain in Catherine’s voice. “I know.”
“Good.”
Catherine was stalling. If she didn’t hurry up and get dressed, Lauren would notice. But the thought of facing the music, the room full of strangers, the forced frivolity, when all she wanted to do was curl up in bed and stew, was crippling. She’d promised she’d go, but in truth she’d rather do anything else right now. She looked longingly at the bed as she slowly buttoned up a fresh shirt.
“I’ll boycott.”
Catherine’s head snapped around. “What?”
“The party. You look so miserable. And you’re taking twenty minutes to put a shirt on, for God’s sake. So let’s boycott. We’ll stay here, and I’ll keep you company.”
Her eyes were so intense and filled with empathy that Catherine had to look away. “Don’t be silly. I said I’d go.”
“You look like you’re prepping for your execution.”
“This is how I dress for every party.” Her attempt at humor fell flat.
“Oh, sure it is.” Lauren ran her hand through her own hair. “I release you from your promise to attend, okay? I’m sorry I asked. It was wrong.”
“No, it’s not okay. Although, yes, I admit I’m going to have to work up to it a little.” She forced a bright smile. “Tell you what, you go on ahead, meet and greet all your friends, and I’ll be down in a little while, when I’m in the right headspace.”
Lauren hesitated. Doubt streaked across her face.
“Go,” Catherine insisted. “I mean it. Have fun. There’s no point both of us sitting around moping. Just let me sort out my thoughts a bit. I’ll be down later.”
Lauren leaned over and dropped a kiss on her lips. “Think I can’t see right through you? I know what you’re doing. I really appreciate it. So much.”
“Oh, please.” Catherine gave an airy wave. “I’ve endured windbag senators pontificating on everything from toilet paper to Popeye. What’s a little mechanics’ mayhem for a few hours?”
“Thank you.” Lauren’s look was every kind of soft. “Love you.”
It turned out getting in the mood was a lot harder than squaring up to blowhard politicians. Catherine finally pushed aside her hurt and fury, rolled over, and stood. Now or never.
She could hear the shouts of merriment from the workshop, along with thumping music which all sounded like it had a car theme. Catherine hated everything about this. But Lauren never asked much of her. She was generous, good, kind, and all the things Catherine probably wasn’t, and certainly didn’t deserve. So, she could do this small thing for Lauren. Put in an appearance for a few drinks and then crawl into bed and lick her wounds.
She made her way down the stairs, pausing in the living room. Flopped over a side table lay a pair of black garment bags. Oh, right. She’d heard they’d received a delivery. She approached the package marked with her name and zipped open the outfit’s protective cover.
Oh. Oh yes.
Zachary had outdone himself. Her wedding dress was beautiful. Her fingers trailed across the flowing material. Stunning. She was tempted to take a peek at the other outfit, but the thought of seeing Lauren in it for the first time on her wedding day stopped her curiosity cold.
“It’s beautiful.”
Catherine started. She turned to see Meemaw on the sofa, watching her from the shadows.
“I think so, too.”
“He was a lovely boy who came by. We sat him down and fed him coffee and pie ’til he had to go. Said if it didn’t fit to call him, and he’d come back and adjust it. Left his card.” She pointed to a white rectangle on the side table, with “ZachB” in purple lettering.
“Thank you.”
“Where have you been all evening?”
“Work.” If agonizing over how past story decisions had ruined her life counted as work.
Meemaw’s face creased. “Is it important?”
“I suppose so.”
“More important than Lauren?”
Zipping the dress back up inside its garment bag to buy her time, Catherine’s hackles rose. “Why do you ask that? Do you not trust me to put Lauren first?”
“All I know is my granddaughter’s upset about something. She’s not talking about it. But if it’s just work, then I’d say you’ve got your priorities all about-face. Wouldn’t you?”
“It’s not work she’s bothered by.” Catherine debated how much to say. “She’s upset on my behalf. I discovered today I was betrayed.”
“Who by?”
Pain throbbed. Her fingers slid to her temple, where her headache was starting. “My…parents.” Saying that out loud made her feel so much worse. It felt like an admission of failure. It was humiliating. Enraging. And now she felt exposed along with it. It’s not like Meemaw, surrounded by love, could possibly understand famil
y betrayal.
“They’ll not likely be at the wedding, then?”
Catherine felt the ache surge through her at the reminder. “No. Never.” She regretted her honesty as she braced herself for Meemaw to begin her usual nosy cross-examination. Or perhaps she’d try to convince her that family was forever, and she had to forgive them. Or pray. She set her jaw.
“I’m sorry to hear that. That’s a sadness that pains me in a way I have no words for.”
Catherine regarded her with surprise.
“Parents are hard work, let me tell you.” Meemaw’s expression was grim. “They might be ours to respect and obey, but they aren’t perfect and can be real disappointing. My own folks didn’t approve of my marriage to Noah. They thought my man wasn’t good enough for me, seeing he was only a farmhand. So, they punished me by not showing up. That one stung. It was a hurt I carried for years. No one knows about that, not even Lauren. Oh, we reconciled years later when their grandchild came along, but it was never the same. All I remembered each time I laid eyes on them was how they’d turned their backs on me during my most important day.”
“I’m sorry.” Catherine moved over to sit opposite her in the armchair.
“As was I. That pain sat with me for years and I clung to it like a precious thing. Then one day, I realized I was just hurting myself hanging on to it. It was my burden; my parents had long since moved on.”
“Did you ever forgive them?”
“You’d think that, wouldn’t you?” Meemaw gave an indignant huff. “I know I’m supposed to, but I never could. Not all the way down to my bones. Not that deep. When I needed them the most, they made their disapproval more important than me and my heart. That kind of thing just doesn’t wash off easy.”
“No. It doesn’t.”
“So I took a long, hard look at myself and realized the best I could do was enjoy what I had. Look at what matters. You can’t focus on the folks who are never going to be on your side, no matter what you do or what they say. Some minds can’t be changed. Focus on the people who are in your corner. They’re your people.”
