by Loree Lough
“No, but I’m sure if he chose her, she’s lovely.”
“That she is,” Buzz agreed. “And wait until you meet that li’l grandson of mine. Cuter than the Gerber baby, I tell you. Rose would love nothing better than to see you all around the dinner table again, just like the good old days.”
Strange … but no mention of Brigit’s personal life. Just as well, since it would only wake prickly memories of their last conversation. The last time she’d visited the Turners, Eli had put up his dukes, feinting and jabbing and mimicking Rocky. “Lemme at da big galoot. I’ll teach him what happens to guys who spread lies.” Brigit, on the other hand, put the full blame for Honor’s woes on competitiveness, not Brady Shaw. “Remember that time when you didn’t sleep for three days straight, trying to get your science fair entry just perfect? And what about that bake-off at the church picnic?” she’d said, rolling her eyes. “Why, I thought you’d faint, waiting for Mrs. Griffin to pin that blue ribbon to your shirt.” In other words, Bright believed not only that Honor was capable of sleeping her way to the top, but guilty of exercising poor judgment and poor taste by complaining about the consequences, as well. So, as much as she’d love to see the Turners, a family dinner wouldn’t happen if it meant facing Brigit’s disapproval. Life didn’t offer many opportunities to avoid the harsh glare of censure, but when it did …
“When you get back to the office,” she said, neatly sidestepping the invitation, “maybe you can shoot me a quick e-mail, let me know if there’s a day or time that works best with your schedule, and I’ll arrange things around that.”
“Sounds good. But don’t book a hotel room. You’re staying with us.”
Even as she said her goodbyes, Honor knew she wouldn’t accept that invitation, either. If a few innocent visits to the lieutenant’s house were enough to supply Brady with the ammo to shoot down her career, she didn’t even want to think about how much damage an overnight stay might provide. In all likelihood, she wasn’t even on Brady’s radar any longer, but Honor couldn’t—wouldn’t—take that chance.
24
Her grumbling stomach and a faint headache reminded her that she’d skipped supper. And lunch, too. Honor rummaged in the fridge for something quick, nutritious, and filling. A cold slice of pizza caught her eye. Not exactly gourmet cuisine, she thought, sliding it into the microwave, but it would quiet the noise. Not exactly the healthiest supper, either, so she washed down a multivitamin with a glass of tomato juice.
Rerun sat beside her, ears perked and eyes shining, ever alert for the bit of cheese or crumb of crust that might fall to the floor. “Let’s not make a habit of this,” she said, feeding him a pepperoni slice.
He smiled up at her, as if to say, “Why not?”
“Because you’ll get spoiled,” she answered, giving him a second slice, “and I’ll get fat.”
Still munching, he padded over to the French door and pawed its levered handle.
“Okay, Mr. Subtle, I’ll let you out.” She opened the door as the phone rang. “Back in a flash,” she told him as he thundered down the back porch steps.
She’d barely got the word hello out of her mouth when a familiar voice said, “Not the smartest thing you ever did, siccing Matt Phillips on me.”
Paying for caller ID didn’t make much sense if she wasn’t going to use it. But then, if she hadn’t answered, she wouldn’t know that something connected Brady Shaw and Matt Phillips. “I’m old news, Brady. You must be desperate for a story to be calling me.”
“Desperate?” He laughed. “Hardly.”
“Why else would you climb back down into the sewer with the likes of me?”
“Back down into the sewer … ?”
It made her smile, knowing he’d picked up on her obvious reference to the slimy quality of his reports. “What’s wrong? Did you miss your li’l rat buddies?”
“Don’t try to change the subject. You’re the reason Phillips is threatening me. What I don’t know, is why.”
Good question, Honor thought. “Even if I knew the answer to that, why would I share it with you?”
“Because maybe you can talk your sweetheart out of it, spare him the expense and humiliation of a lawsuit. Besides, it’s the decent thing to do.”
Talk him out of what? she wondered. “Guess they got your number and demoted you, eh? I’d say ‘crossword editor,’ but since you don’t even know the meaning of the word decent, that isn’t very likely.”
“What’re you babbling about?”
“You seem to enjoy talking in riddles. Thought I’d do the same.”
“Whatever. Just tell him for me he doesn’t need to pay another visit to my office. I’m calling his bluff.”
Calling his bluff? “Just so I’m clear, which office visit are we talking about?”
“Wasn’t aware he’d stopped by more than once.”
Neither was I, she thought. But at least now she had something to blame for the peculiar behavior that had begun at about the same time.
“Interesting,” Honor said, hoping to pry more details about Matt’s visit from Brady.
“You’re pretty good at playing dumb, I’ll give you that,” he snorted, “but okay, I’ll play along. For now. Phillips delivered a file, pages of trumped-up charges and other garbage he and his pals dug up. Told me if I didn’t run a retraction story, one that clears your name, he’d … Wait just a cotton-pickin’ minute. Why am I telling you all of this? Like I said, who else would put him up to a stunt that could land him in court, defending himself against slander and libel and charges of securing evidence without search warrants?”
Honor smirked because his slip of the tongue told her Matt had something on Brady, something big and career-damaging. He was gambling, with this phone call, that her connection to Matt was strong enough to influence what he might do next.
“So what does Phillips have that you need? Can’t be money; he’s a Sun reporter.” He underscored the sarcastic comment with derisive laughter. “Can’t be power; he works for that goofball—”
Disgusted, furious, ashamed—though she really had no reason to be—Honor hung up. And after letting Rerun inside, she locked up and began to pace. What was Matt thinking, digging into Brady’s background? He might as well step into a hibernating bear’s cave or stick his hand into a hornet’s nest!
This time when the phone rang, she looked at the caller ID block.
Matt. She hadn’t talked with him in weeks. Was it mere coincidence that he’d called on the heels of her conversation with Brady? Honor intended to find out.
“The boys nagged me into calling,” he said when she picked up. “They’re worried about you, since you’ve been out of touch for so long.”
The boys were worried. The qualifier stung but couldn’t have come at a better time. It would be a lot easier, leaving now. “I’m fine,” she said, wondering whether or not to even bother telling him about Brady’s call.
“Okay. Good. I’m—”
“How are the boys?”
“They’re fine.”
It was good to hear his voice. But she couldn’t let herself focus on that. Far better to wonder if he’d tell her about his meeting with Brady. “Good.” Then, “So what have you been up to lately?”
“Working. Running the boys back and forth to Scouts. And soccer practice. School.” He cleared his throat. “Same ol’, same ol’.”
Honor thought back to the first time she’d noticed the change in his demeanor, on the evening of Austin and Mercy’s wedding. He’d looked so handsome, dark hair slicked back and smiling in his dark suit and starched white shirt that she couldn’t help picturing him in a tuxedo. Would his behavior have changed so dramatically if he hadn’t discovered something unsavory about her while scrounging for dirt on Brady? Something that he just couldn’t overlook, especially when the boys were so directly involved?
One more thing to make leaving easier. And his answer to her next question would make it easier still, no matter how he answered it.
“Had any interesting meetings lately?”
“Meetings … ? No. Just the usual stuff.”
Honor didn’t know whether she felt more hurt or betrayed by his evasiveness. “Really.”
A long, silent moment passed before he said, “Obviously, you have something to say. So just say it, Honor, and save us both a lot of time and aggravation.”
“Brady Shaw called me, not a half hour before you did.”
“What? Tonight? Why would he call you!”
“To ask me to give you a message. He’s calling your bluff. And that’s pretty much an exact quote.”
Another lengthy pause preceded his raspy sigh. “Aw, for the luvva … Sheesh.”
She could almost see him, raking the fingers of his free hand through his dark waves. The same hand that had so tenderly laid Rowdy to rest, then held and comforted her as she cried herself to sleep in his lap.
Honor gritted her teeth and stiffened her spine. If she let her guard down now, how could she summon the guts to go to New York? “So it seems Brady has booted you out of the sandbox, without letting you take any of your toys. I guess that pretty much limits the control you’ll have on my life now, doesn’t it?” If she sounded sarcastic and sanctimonious to herself, Honor could only imagine what she sounded like to Matt.
“How’s Rerun?”
Well now, that was out of left field, she thought. “He’s doing very well, all things considered.”
“Still walking around the house, looking for Rowdy?”
She didn’t remember telling him about that. But how else could he know such a thing? “Yeah, sometimes,” she admitted, “but I try and keep him distracted. Toys, games, long walks, anything to get his mind off then and onto now.”
“You’re a natural with dogs. And kids.” He paused. “Correction. You’re good with people in general.”
It felt so wonderful, hearing the warmth in his voice again, that Honor was tempted to invite him over, so she could lose herself in the comforting circle of his arms. But she couldn’t, not if she hoped to protect him and the twins from any more of the fallout connected to her past. “So what have you been up to,” he asked, “aside from telephone conversations with the devil’s right-hand man?”
“Between doing his bidding, you mean, and work and training sessions? Why, there’s barely time for eating and sleeping.”
“I didn’t mean it like that, and you know it.” It didn’t matter what he meant or didn’t mean. Didn’t matter that he cared enough to call and check on her. Or that he’d gotten himself embroiled in who knows what with that sleaze, Brady Shaw, mostly likely on her behalf.
Or was it?
Only one way to find out …
“So tell me, what was the point of your meeting with Brady?”
“No point, if he’s serious about calling my bluff. Because I don’t have a leg to stand on. Every shred of evidence was obtained by less than ethical means. I’d do more harm to the guys who helped me get it than to Shaw, and he knows it.”
“How selfcentered is it for me to think you did all of that on my behalf?”
“It isn’t selfcentered at all. That’s exactly why I did it.”
“Okay, then how ungrateful am I to wish you hadn’t? Because I don’t like knowing that you see me as this weak, pathetic little thing who’s incapable of protecting herself, or—”
“Whoa. Back up there for just a minute. Do you mean to tell me you could have put up a defense against Shaw’s story?”
She didn’t owe him an answer. Didn’t want to rehash it all. But once she started talking, Honor couldn’t seem to make herself stop.
A year ago, she told him, after giving things a lot of thought and prayer, she made a conscious choice to take it full on the chin, alone, without Lieutenant Hoffman’s knowledge or approval. “If Wyatt had known anything about it,” she continued, “he would have squashed my plan before I had a chance to put it into motion” … and paid for the selfless action with his job, the family home, and the respect of his peers, not to mention what mayhem his wife and kids would have been forced to endure. “But I wasn’t married, didn’t have kids or any other family to speak of. What did I have to lose?”
“Oh, gee, I dunno,” Matt put in. “Only your job. Your dignity. Your standing in the community. I realize you think Wyatt Hoffman was every bit as innocent as you were, but you had to wonder why he took that transfer to the boonies and let you shoulder the burden, alone.”
“I didn’t give him a choice, remember? I—”
“Bull,” Matt interrupted. “Think about it, Honor. I did.”
She’d worry over what he meant by “I did” later. For now, Honor would have to be satisfied knowing that whatever his investigation had uncovered left him uncertain of her innocence and suspicious of her motives. That would help make the move easier, too.
“Oh, lest you think I’m suffering from some sort of martyr complex, let me set the record straight. There were times, lots of times, when it seemed as though things would never right themselves. Believe me, I felt plenty sorry for myself, wondering ‘why me?’ Asking myself why I hadn’t let Wyatt take the heat. And I’m ashamed, even now, to admit that most of those times, I wished I had.”
“I don’t know anybody who’d feel differently under circumstances like that.”
“Doesn’t make it right. I’m supposed to be a Christian.”
“Honor, listen to me. Hoffman had family to support him. Not just a devoted wife and kids who adored him, but parents, in-laws, siblings, even friends and coworkers who thought he hung the moon. Who had your back? Who was there for you, saying ‘hang in there,’ ‘you’ll land on your feet,’ ‘just ask, and we’re there for you’? Nobody, that’s who. You know what ticks me off? At every stage of this thing, Hoffman knew what was going on. If he’d been lily white, he would have stepped up with the evidence he’d gathered on Shaw. But he buried it to save his own skin.”
“What do you mean?”
She heard his frustrated sigh.
“What I mean is this: Hoffman’s dirty, too. In some ways, dirtier than Shaw. He isn’t guilty of arson—at least, not that I know of—but there’s a list of cover-ups and payoffs and bribes nearly long as my arm.”
“Wyatt? I-I don’t believe it.”
“Oh, you can believe it, all right. How do you think he could afford that big gorgeous house, an Ocean City condo, two pricey cars? Jennifer is a housewife. No way he could afford all that on his department salary. And don’t tell me he inherited the money, because I looked into that, too, and he didn’t.”
She didn’t know what to say. Or think. Or feel. If Matt was right, it meant she had thrown away her career and her reputation to protect a man with even fewer scruples than Shaw. The fact that she hadn’t wondered how the Hoffmans could afford their upper-class lifestyle on a middle-lass income not only made her feel gullible, but foolish as well.
“I know what you’re thinking, and you’re wrong.”
“Oh, so I’m not a brainless twit?”
“If searching out the good in everyone you meet makes you a brainless twit, then I think the good Lord should have included that in every human’s DNA. It’s an area where I’m completely deficient.”
“That’s crazy talk.” Honor believed in his goodness to the core of her. “There must be some explanation for everything because Wyatt’s a good person.”
“Greed is a powerful motivator.”
Images of her time with the Hoffmans flashed through her memory. Holiday dinners. Backyard barbecues. Birthdays. Relaxing, leisurely afternoons around the pool. “But he was so kind and generous. Brought me home, introduced me to his family … Jennifer and the kids became my cheering squad, counting every sit-up and push-up and lap around the track, and never once complained when his pacing interrupted their favorite TV shows as he drilled facts and figures into my head. I passed the endurance tests. Passed the written tests, too, because of them.”
“You would have made it on your own
. In time.”
“No. I wouldn’t. The guys at the department nicknamed me Rocket, because I shot to the top so fast.”
“Greed’s a powerful motivator,” Matt said slowly, “and so is indebtedness.”
“If you mean he thought I’d look the other way when he stepped out of line, out of some cockeyed sense of loyalty …”
“That’s exactly what I mean. But somewhere along the line, you must have done or said something that told him you’d do the right thing, no matter what.”
“So he threw me under the bus.”
“Right. Because Shaw barely uncovered the tip of the proverbial iceberg with his pathetic little exposé. I never had any intention of dredging all this up for you. I just thought if I could pave the way toward clearing your name, maybe …”
An exasperated huff sighed into her hear. “Look,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “Honor. I’m sorry. I honestly believed if I dug up the right evidence, I could talk Shaw into retracting the story, so you could put the whole mess behind you, once and for all, get your good name back. I had no idea how big this was, and—”
“But Matt, don’t you get it? If Brady had gone back on the air with a retraction, it would have looked bogus. People would’ve wondered who I’d slept with this time to clear away the last mess. And Wyatt … I don’t know what to say about that, except … poor Jennifer would have been forced to wade through the quagmire all over again. And the kids. They’re a whole year older. They’ll understand more.”
“But at least the truth would be out there. Wouldn’t that give you some real satisfaction?”
“I already know the truth. That’s enough for me. Besides, as you so astutely pointed out, because of how you came by the information, good, hardworking people would get hurt far worse than Wyatt or Brady.”
“You only know the half of it.”
“Then fill in the other half.”
He hesitated a tick before saying, “They’re both nothing but common thugs. Carousing, lying, stealing … Shaw burned down five houses, Honor, five—counting his Ocean City condo—and a brand new car. And do you know why? So he could pay off his gambling debts with the insurance checks.”
