Breaking the Story

by Ashley Farley

  Guy ended the call and dropped the phone in the cup holder. “Let’s pray they respond. And fast.”

  Will handed his pistol to Guy. “You better hold this.”

  “Do you want me to try and shoot out one of their tires? I’m not a bad shot, but I’m better with a lasso in these situations.”

  “No, just hold on to it. The last thing we want to do is make them wreck, not with my sister in the back.” His hands gripped tighter on the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white. “At least I hope she’s in the back.”

  “I hope she’s alive,” Guy mumbled.

  They drove for miles and miles along the curvy mountain road. There were no side streets offering escape, and with Will’s expert driving, Lightfoot was unable to shake them from his bumper. “There’s an intersection coming up,” Guy said, studying the map app on his phone. “Highway 58. If we’re lucky, the state police will use the opportunity to head them off.”

  Two minutes later they passed through said intersection, but there were no police vehicles, state or otherwise, waiting for them. They drove on for another few minutes until they caught sight of what appeared to be a roadblock ahead of them in the distance.

  Slamming on the brakes, the cargo truck skidded out of control in front of them and careened off the highway into a tree.

  “Oh fuck!” Will jerked his steering wheel, bringing his truck to an abrupt halt on the side of the road. “I sure as hell hope my sister survived that.”

  “Doesn’t look like the driver did,” Guy said, pointing at the blood splattered all over the driver’s side window.

  Popkov climbed out of the passenger side of the truck, appearing dazed and unsteady despite his tight grip on his pistol.

  “I’m gonna kill that fucker.” Will snatched his gun from Guy and jumped out of the truck. Guy grabbed the baseball back from the backseat and followed Will.

  “Where’s my sister, you bastard?” Will demanded, marching toward Popkov, his gun aimed at his chest.

  The police sirens grew louder as they headed their way.

  “Don’t kill him,” Guy called to Will. “Wait for the police. We need to keep him alive in case Scottie isn’t in the truck.”

  Popkov pointed his weapon at Will. “He’s too much of a coward to kill me.”

  “Don’t count on it, mother fucker.” Will leveled the pistol, took aim at Popkov’s right shoulder, and pulled the trigger.

  Popkov somehow managed to fire a round before stumbling backward to the ground. The bullet grazed Will, ripping a quarter-inch gash in the skin on his right upper arm.

  “Shit! That stings,” Will cried, grabbing his arm with his left hand.

  “Here, give me that.” Guy took the gun from Will and aimed it at Popkov. “I’ll keep an eye on this asshole while you go see about your sister.”

  Will raised the door on the cargo hold. “Oh, thank God, she’s here.” Guy saw the tension leave Will’s body. “And she’s alive.”

  35

  Guy did not have a chance to say goodbye to Scottie before she left Washington the following morning. After missing a week of work, he needed to get to campaign headquarters as soon as possible to repair the damage to his job.

  As he rode the Metro to the Capitol South station, he thought about the brief conversation he’d had with Scottie after the doctors finished checking her out at MedStar Washington Hospital Center the night before. She’d apologized for jumping to conclusions and not giving him a chance to explain about his job and Rich’s text, and she’d thanked him for helping rescue her. But she’d offered little hope for any sort of future between them.

  One lone tear had run down her cheek. “You don’t want to be with me, Guy. I ruin everything I touch.”

  He’d rubbed her back and tried to assure her that she was still traumatized from her ordeal.

  “Funny how things work out sometimes,” she said. “Now that I actually have a shot at my dream job, I’m not sure that’s what I want after all. In fact, I may never pick up a camera again. Turns out I’m not cut out for violence. Wedding photography is more my speed. There’s no danger associated with taking pictures of brides and grooms on the happiest day of their lives. My life is a mess right now, and I need some time to figure a few things out on my own. Alone.”

  He’d begged her not to shut him out. “Why don’t I drive you home to Richmond? We don’t have to talk. I’ll sleep in the guest room, or on the sofa. I won’t ask anything of you that you aren’t willing to give.”

  “It’s not just about me needing to recover from my ordeal, Guy. I need to learn how to stand on my own two feet, to be responsible for my own actions without constantly dragging everyone I care about into my problems.”

  Of course he’d understood that. How could he not after everything she’d been through? “Take all the time you need. I won’t pressure you. Just promise me you’ll give me a chance. We can be happy together, you and me.”

  She’d turned her head away from him then, unable to look him in the eyes when she broke his heart. “I don’t think so. You and I are not right for one another. The sex was great, don’t get me wrong, but you deserve someone better, someone without the baggage, someone who can give you the family you deserve.” She’d traced his lips with her finger. “I’ll never forget you, Guy Jordan. You made me feel special. You made me believe in myself. Because of you, I know I will find love again. One day. It just won’t be now. And it won’t be with you.”

  *

  The receptionist greeted Guy with a thumbs-up for a job well done. “By the way, the boss wants to see you.”

  Guy went straight to Blackmore’s office, and waited outside while his secretary cleared him to go in.

  “Well, now. If it isn’t the man of the hour.” Blackmore looked up from the file he was reading. “Close the door and have a seat.” He waited for Guy to get settled. “I’d like to hear your side of the story, to see how it compares with your coworkers’.”

  After he spilled out the Spark Notes version of the story, Guy said, “I’m not one to throw a friend under the bus, but in this particular case, Rich deserves it.”

  “I agree to a certain extent. What Rich did was wrong on many different levels. But, to his credit, he told me the truth about everything when he and I met two days ago. James, on the other hand, denied his involvement in the situation. I had to let them both go, for different reasons of course.” Blackmore leaned forward in his chair and propped his elbows on his desk. “Tell me, how is Scottie? She’s a tough young woman to survive such an ordeal.”

  “She’s traumatized, as you can imagine, but she’s lucky to have a supportive family to help her recover.”

  Blackmore’s expression grew serious. “You know the media has been all over us, blaming us for leaking the photos and holding us responsible for Scottie’s kidnapping. Fortunately, we are not the only ones suffering. The Caine campaign has taken a direct hit as well. Nothing makes me happier than to see my campaign rise in the polls. But smearing my opponent with negative publicity is not the way I prefer to do business. I fight fair, Guy. You should know that by now.”

  Guy rubbed his temples. “I understand, sir. I realize now, I should have come to you in the beginning for advice instead of trying to handle the situation on my own.”

  “Yes, you should have. But I applaud you for trying to do the right thing, nonetheless.” Blackmore knitted his fingers together and twiddled his thumbs. “With the election in less than three months, we have a lot of work to do to repair the damage to my reputation. Starting with the debate on Monday. I’m going to need you to travel to Dallas with me.”

  “Me, sir?” Traveling with the candidate had always been Rich’s job.

  Blackmore smiled. “Yes, you. Now that Rich and James are gone, I’m promoting you to my number one man. Unless you’d rather I find someone else.”

  “Oh, no, sir.” Guy sat up straighter in his chair. “I’m honored you would consider me for the job. I promise I won’t let y
ou down.”

  “I have faith in you, Guy.”

  Guy beamed. “Thank you, sir.”

  “You’re welcome.” Blackmore nodded his head at the door. “Now get out of here and get back to work.”

  *

  Guy spent the rest of the morning responding to emails and getting caught up on campaign news. He was eating a hot dog in the park down the street when he received a call from Will.

  “How’s the arm, bro?” Guy asked, as he picked up the call.

  “Dude, you should see it. The chicks are gonna dig this scar.”

  Guy chuckled. “I can always count on you to put a positive spin on the situation. Are you back in Richmond?”

  “Yep. I deposited my parents and Scottie at their respective homes, and I’m on my way to my house now.” Will sighed. “Listen, Guy, about Scottie. She’s feeling overwhelmed, and her feelings for you are kind of freaking her out, but she’ll come around eventually.”

  Guy’s appetite vanished, and he tossed his half-eaten hot dog in a nearby trashcan. “So she told you she gave me the boot.”

  “She didn’t have to tell me. It’s written all over her face. She pushes people away when they get too close. That’s how Scottie copes. She’ll come running back once she realizes she can’t live without you.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not. I don’t think it’s that simple, Will. This is about more than our relationship. Did Scottie tell you she’s giving up her career as a photojournalist? She’s planning to photograph weddings on a permanent basis.”

  “Woo-hoo,” Will said, and Guy imagined him fist-pumping the air. “That’s the most sane decision my sister has ever made.”

  “She won’t be happy.”

  “But she’ll be safe.”

  “Every investigation isn’t a corkscrew rollercoaster,” Guy said.

  “True, but there are few rides on the merry-go-round when Scottie is involved.” A few seconds of silence passed between them. “Don’t worry, bro. Scottie just needs a little time to process her ordeal. She’ll be back to herself in a few days, and raring to go for a ride on the Tilt-A-Whirl.”

  “I hope you’re right, Will.”

  “I usually am where my sister is concerned. Whatever you do, don’t give up on her. Scottie always thinks she knows what’s best for everyone else, but rarely does she realize what’s good for herself. The most important thing right now is for her to know she’s not alone.”

  *

  Although he found the office much quieter without Rich’s unrealistic demands and James’s loud mouth, Guy had a hard time concentrating when he returned to work from lunch. He couldn’t stop thinking about Scottie. She had every right to feel down about her life, considering everything she’d been through. Not just the kidnapping, but all the tribulations she’d shared with him about her personal life. He knew she felt something for him—Scottie wasn’t the kind of girl who could fake anything—but he also understood how those feelings might terrify her so soon after her marriage had ended. No wonder she was confused when you factored in the uncertainty about her career.

  Guy pondered what Will had said on the phone about Scottie—about her having a hard time realizing what’s good for her and needing to know she’s not alone. And the words began to resonate. She needed Guy, even if she didn’t know she needed him. And he wouldn’t let her down. He’d never felt this way about a woman before. He believed in his heart they belonged together. She was his hope for a happy future, and he couldn’t let his big chance slip away.

  Around three o’clock, Guy left his desk and returned to Blackmore’s office. This time his secretary wasn’t standing guard. He knocked on the open door.

  Blackmore’s eyes traveled from his computer to Guy. “You again so soon?”

  “Yes, sir. If I might have a quick word.”

  Blackmore glanced at his watch. “That’s about all I have time for. I have a meeting in five minutes.”

  Guy approached Blackmore’s desk when he entered the office, but he didn’t sit down. “I know I’ve missed a lot of work this past week, and I promise to give you one hundred percent from here on out, but I have a personal matter I need to attend to this afternoon.”

  “Does it concern Scottie?”

  “Yes, sir. We… well, we have some unfinished business.”

  “I’m a family man, Guy. Who am I to stand in the way of love?”

  “Thank you, sir,” Guy said, but he remained rooted to the spot in front of Blackmore’s desk.

  “Well, what are you waiting for? Get out of here. Take the rest of the day off. Tomorrow too, if you need it. But I need you back in the office by Thursday. We have a lot of work to do before Dallas.”

  “I promise I won’t let you down, sir. You can count on me.”

  Guy slid his computer and several files into his leather shoulder briefcase and headed out of the office, stopping by the receptionist’s desk to alert her of his plans. For a brief moment, he considered going straight to CarMax and purchasing a used car, but the impulse passed quickly, and he decided to move toward buying a car in a more sensible manner. He would need a car with all the road trips to Richmond he had in mind for his future.

  36

  At home in Richmond, against her family’s pleas to stay, Scottie insisted they leave, but she missed them before Will’s truck had pulled away from the curb. She wanted to be alone to sort through her emotions, but she dreaded the demons that awaited her inside.

  Everything appeared neat and tidy on the surface, but the sight of water rings on the granite countertops and dishes returned to the wrong place in the cabinets provided tangible evidence that strangers had been in her house. A super-size box of Starbucks K-cups—a dark roast that she had tried before but found way too strong—stood beside the Keurig. On her patio the FBI men had even stubbed out their cigarettes in her planters—her flowers long since fried to a crisp under the brutal summer sun.

  Scottie saw Brad in every room—sitting on the leather sofa in the den, frying bologna at the stove in the kitchen. She wasn’t pining for her husband. She felt enormous relief that her turbulent marriage was over. But she needed time to mourn the loss of a relationship that had lasted for eight years, just as she mourned the three babies who had died in her womb.

  Memories of Mary awaited her in the nursery upstairs, too bittersweet for her to contemplate. She closed the door to the room, vowing for the thousandth time to clean out the baby things and turn the space into an office.

  Flashbacks and sound bites from the night of her kidnapping greeted her in her bedroom down the hall. She stripped the bed of its sheets and kicked the balled-up linens down the stairs. She filled her tub with lavender-scented bath gel and water so hot she could barely stand it, then soaked until her fingers and toes shriveled up like prunes. Even naked and alone with the door locked, she couldn’t escape the noises she thought she heard and the vision of Popkov’s face, a mirage that materialized in the steam. The knowledge that Popkov and Lightfoot would spend the rest of their lives in prison offered little consolation.

  She dressed in clean khaki shorts and a pink T-shirt, braided her damp hair, and dabbed on a little makeup, hoping that the improvement in her appearance would improve her mood as well.

  She cleaned her house from top to bottom—vacuuming and wiping away all traces of the intruders. She was starving when she finished around three, but a quick inspection of her refrigerator revealed a brick of moldy cheese and half of a leftover hamburger in a Styrofoam container. She made a bowl of ramen noodles, took one bite, and pushed the bowl away.

  Scottie had finally found the man of her dreams, but she loved him too much to drag him down with her. She was ruined goods. Divorced at thirty, three miscarriages with little chance of carrying a baby to term, career washed up before it ever got off the ground. She had nothing to offer a rising political star. Guy needed a perky socialite wife who would dedicate her life to furthering his career.

  With tears streaming down her face, Scottie lay do
wn on the couch and cried herself to sleep. She woke up four hours later.

  She removed a Stella from the twelve-pack in the refrigerator—leftovers from the FBI’s stay in her home. She popped the cap and sat down in front of her computer. She navigated to the Chanello’s website and ordered a large pizza with two different meats and three kinds of vegetables. Tempted by the 217 emails in her inbox, she clicked on her Gmail app and began sorting. After deleting all the junk mail, she started at the bottom and worked her way from oldest to newest, reading through the concerned notes from friends and requests for appearances on early-morning and late-night television talk shows. She had job offers from ten different news services, but the one that interested her the most had come in only two hours ago—an email from an executive at Reuters wanting to know if she would consider a position as international correspondent based out of their London office.

  London? She pushed back from her desk and sipped her beer as she considered the idea. The thought of moving overseas excited her as much as it terrified her.

  Her phone vibrated on the island with an incoming text from Will: Can I come over after work?

  She texted back: No!

  She saw that two voice messages had come in while she napped—one from each of her parents checking on her, begging her to come stay at the farm for a few days. Maybe moving to London was exactly what she needed to put some distance between herself and her family. She loved them dearly, too much to continue to drag them into her drama. She wanted Will to find a sweet girl, settle down, and give their parents the grandchildren they so desperately wanted. He couldn’t very well do that with his sister attached to him like a noose around his neck. She’d already ruined their parents’ anniversary cruise. They deserved to be carefree at this stage of their lives, not constantly bailing their daughter out of trouble.

  She sent Will a second text, one that sounded a little less harsh: I love you and I’m grateful to you for saving my life but you don’t need to babysit me anymore. Go live your life. Be free, big birdie.

  Will: I understand you need some space, but I’m your brother. You can’t push me away like you pushed Guy away.