Deadly Memories (Hardy Brothers Security Book 18)

by Lily Harper Hart

  “You’re probably right,” Sophie said. “I … .” She broke off when she saw Mandy’s attention drift to the front window of the diner. “What’s wrong?”

  “Don’t look now,” Mandy said, lowering her voice as she glanced around the busy restaurant. “I think Chuck Foley is about to lodge a complaint.”

  “Crap,” Sophie muttered, swiveling in her seat when she felt an angry presence move in at her left. “Commissioner Foley, it’s nice to see you. I was going to stop in at the hospital and pay my respects this afternoon.”

  Chuck Foley’s round cheeks were red and sweaty, and his green eyes flashed with hatred as his gaze bounced between the two women. “You have a lot of nerve, Ms. Lane.”

  Sophie ran her tongue over her teeth as she considered how to respond. “Would you care to have a seat, Mr. Foley?”

  “I wouldn’t be caught dead sitting with trash like you,” Foley seethed, causing Mandy to narrow her eyes.

  “There’s no reason to talk to her like that,” Mandy snapped. “It’s not her fault your son got hammered and drove off a bridge. She was just doing her job when she reported on the story.”

  “No one is talking to you,” Foley said. “If I want to discuss filing court briefs, you’ll be the first one I call. Until then, shut your stupid mouth.”

  Mandy was shocked. “You can’t talk to me that way.”

  “I just did,” Foley hissed. “Now shut your hole.” He turned his attention to Sophie, and for a moment the willowy reporter worried he would try to put his hands on her. That wouldn’t end well. When Grady and Peter found out, Foley would end up with cement shoes when he was dumped in a lake. He had to know that.

  “Mr. Foley, I understand you’re upset,” Sophie said, choosing her words carefully. “If you would like to discuss this, we can go somewhere private.”

  “I’m not discussing anything with the likes of you.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?” Mandy asked.

  “She’s a mafia whore,” Foley answered. “Everyone knows she does Peter Marconi’s dirty work. She’s a disgusting piece of filth, and I’m not going to stand for her maligning my son in this manner ever again.”

  “She didn’t malign your son,” Mandy argued. “Your son got drunk and killed his friends. Sophie reported the truth. You might want to ask yourself why you’re mad at the person who reported the truth when the one responsible for this mess is someplace else.”

  “And you might want to shut your hole before I do it for you!” Foley’s hands shook as he clenched them at his sides. “Stay out of this conversation, you stupid bimbo. I’m talking to the mob princess. Do you understand?”

  Mandy’s eyes widened, but she wisely snapped her mouth shut.

  “Now, Ms. Lane, I have a message for you and it’s going to be brief,” Foley said. “If you think of writing one more word about my son, I’m going to end your career. On top of that, I’m going to sue your newspaper for everything it’s worth. Do you understand?”

  Sophie was used to angry threats so she wasn’t exactly prostrate with worry when she locked gazes with Chuck Foley. “Mr. Foley, you don’t scare me,” she said. “I will continue with this story and do my job. If you have a problem with that, you’re more than welcome to contact my editor.”

  “Oh, you can bet I’m going to do that,” Foley spat.

  “One more thing, Mr. Foley,” Sophie said, forcing the man’s attention back to her even though he looked as if he wanted to storm out of the diner. “If you ever threaten my safety again – or say one word to my friend here – I’m going to have my mafia daddy have a little talk with you about manners.”

  Foley’s face whitened as Mandy pursed her lips to keep from laughing. “Was that a threat?”

  Sophie remained calm as she regarded the commissioner. “It was merely a statement, Mr. Foley. Now, you have a nice day.”

  6

  Six

  “Well, that was impressive,” Mandy said as she walked with Sophie back toward the courthouse. “I would’ve started yelling if it happened to me … and then run straight home to James to cry. You were masterful, though.”

  Sophie wasn’t particularly proud of her reaction, but she couldn’t help but laugh. “I shouldn’t have done that,” she said. “Peter always told me that name dropping was something weak people did.”

  “I think Peter would be happy for you to drop his name in this particular case,” Mandy countered. “I was worried Foley would put his hands on you. He was a little … out of control.”

  “Well, his son just killed three people and is looking at life behind bars,” Sophie said, her pragmatic side taking over. “I can’t blame him for being overwrought. Still, you’re probably right. Peter doesn’t take kindly to threats.”

  “Especially when they’re aimed at you.”

  Sophie snickered. “I don’t think he would appreciate what Foley said to you either,” she said. “You have a special place in his heart. He thinks you’re the only reason I have any female friends.”

  “Well, he’s got a special place in my heart, too,” Mandy said. “He’s saved me more times than I can count.”

  “Yes, you do find trouble,” Sophie agreed, turning her attention to the front steps of the courthouse as they approached. “I guess everyone is gearing up for the press conference early.”

  That was an understatement. Since Sophie’s story leaked the identity of the driver, the Stony Creek accident narrative had shifted from a cautionary tale to a full-blown political scandal. The area in front of the circuit courthouse where Mandy worked reflected that now as representatives from each local television station and newspaper flooded the area in anticipation of the prosecutor’s statement later that afternoon.

  “Holy crap,” Mandy said, pulling up short when she saw the gathering. “When you said you had to cover a press conference here, I thought it was going to be like five people. This is … something else.”

  “It’s about politics now,” Sophie said. “I told you that over lunch. This is going to get a lot messier before it gets better.”

  “Are you worried it’s going to spill over and cause problems? Foley is clearly fixated on you right now.”

  “Once the other media representatives start harping on him, it won’t be a big deal,” Sophie replied. “He’ll have enough anger to spread evenly around to all of us.”

  “Well, at least you’ve got that to look forward to.”

  Mandy and Sophie said their goodbyes outside, with the blonde leaving for the afternoon court session and Sophie taking the opportunity to monitor the growing crowd. While the media representatives were circling like vultures, it was the other people – the assembled residents – that most piqued Sophie’s interest.

  Sophie didn’t recognize anyone outside of the media throng, but the people standing to the right of the stairs wore Mothers Against Drunk Driving shirts, while two women across the way wore Foley political shirts. Sophie had to wonder if Foley asked his supporters to put in an appearance.

  “What do you think?”

  Sophie jumped at the voice, frowning when she shifted her eyes and locked gazes with the lead prosecutor Eric Humphrey. The man was new to his post, only sliding into the position a few months prior after a special election following the previous prosecutor’s decision to step down after a cancer diagnosis.

  “Hello, Mr. Humphrey,” Sophie said, rubbing the back of her neck as her heart rate returned to normal. “How are you today?”

  “Did I scare you?” Humphrey asked, offering Sophie a smarmy smirk. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

  Sophie didn’t believe that for a second. She’d heard whisperings about Humphrey in the county courthouse since he took over his position, and she was determined to delve into his background more when she had a chance. The secretarial pool at the courthouse suggested Humphrey was something of a pervert. Sophie made a mental note to ask Mandy when she saw her next if she’d heard any interesting tidbits. The effervescent bl
onde was always up on courthouse gossip.

  “Your proximity caught me off guard,” Sophie clarified. “You didn’t frighten me.”

  “That’s right, you’re tough as nails,” Humphrey said. “Nothing frightens you, does it?”

  Sophie couldn’t be sure, but Humphrey appeared to be getting at something. “Meaning?”

  “Well, everyone talks about Sophie Lane,” Humphrey said, rubbing his hands together. “You’re practically famous in these here parts.” He was going for levity, but the underlying current of his tone set Sophie’s teeth on edge.

  “And what do they say?” Sophie challenged, forcing herself to maintain an air of congeniality even though the thing she wanted most to do was put distance between Humphrey and herself.

  “They say you’re tough and you always get your story,” Humphrey said. “I guess you proved that by getting the dirt on Foley before everyone else.”

  “I just lucked into that.”

  “I’m sure that’s not the case,” Humphrey said. “People also say your ties to Peter Marconi give you an edge when it comes to tracking down witnesses. Is that true?”

  Sophie balked at the suggestion. “Peter doesn’t get involved in my stories,” she said. “He has much more important things to do. His business doesn’t allow him to get involved in my life.”

  Humphrey arched a challenging eyebrow. “His business? What exactly is his business?”

  “I’m not privy to the inner workings of what he does,” Sophie replied breezily. “If you would like to ask him yourself, I’m sure I could set up a meeting.”

  Humphrey chuckled. “I don’t think that will be necessary,” he said. “Just for curiosity’s sake, though, if Mr. Marconi doesn’t help you with your stories, who does?”

  “I do most of the legwork myself,” Sophie replied.

  Humphrey pursed his lips. “Who does the rest of the legwork? Would that be your boyfriend?”

  Sophie’s relationship with Grady was hardly a secret, but Humphrey’s interest caused Sophie’s inner danger alarm to ping. “My boyfriend has his own job to do, too,” she said. “If I asked him to do a search for me, he would. I don’t like asking, though, because I believe in doing my job without outside help whenever possible. I’m funny that way.”

  “You’re a feisty thing, aren’t you?” Humphrey asked. “I can see what your boyfriend sees in you. He’s famous around the county these days, too. Well, to be fair, his entire family is famous. You guys just can’t seem to stay out of the news, can you?”

  “I guess we’re just lucky that way,” Sophie shot back, shifting her eyes toward the crowd in the hope she could find someone to draw her away from Humphrey.

  “This last little bit with Judge MacIntosh’s clerk killing Lance Pritchard and then getting framed for killing that woman her husband was having an affair with was quite the story, huh?” Humphrey clearly had no interest in letting Sophie escape.

  “James didn’t have an affair with anyone,” Sophie said. “Don’t spread rumors like that. He would never cheat on his wife.”

  “So the affair rumor bothers you, but the fact that your friend killed someone doesn’t? That’s interesting.”

  Sophie had just about hit her limit. “Mandy fought off Lance Pritchard when he was bent on killing his own daughter and stealing his grandson. She did what she had to do to survive. You’re sick if you think otherwise.”

  Humphrey held his hands up in a placating manner. “Hey, I’m not trying to rile you up. I’m just repeating what I heard.”

  “See, that’s how I know you’re full of crap,” Sophie said. “Mandy is well-respected and beloved in this courthouse. She goes out of her way to help others and is a good worker. You’re trying to stir things up. I don’t know why, but you are.

  “Perhaps you’ve got your heart set on a judgeship at some point,” she continued. “Perhaps you just like gossip. I hear gossip, too. I hear you’ve hit on almost every female worker in the building and they’re considering filing a sexual harassment complaint. Should I believe that, too?” The last part was a lie, but Sophie enjoyed the red flush of Humphrey’s cheeks as her words washed over him.

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Humphrey said, shaking his head. “I have been nothing but professional with everyone – especially the women – since taking office.”

  “And yet gossip says otherwise,” Sophie said, internally crowing at Humphrey’s discomfort. “Such a sad state of affairs.”

  “I should probably start the press conference now,” Humphrey gritted out. “It was a great pleasure to see you again, Ms. Lane. I look forward to your questions.”

  “The pleasure was all mine.”

  THE PRESS conference got underway almost immediately once Sophie split from Humphrey. Sheriff Morgan joined Humphrey on the steps, although he didn’t look thrilled to share the limelight with Macomb County’s newest politician, and the duo reiterated everything Sophie already knew before opening for questions from the media.

  “How is it that Sophie Lane got this information yesterday and no one else was allowed to have it?” The Channel 7 reporter shot Sophie a dark look as she asked the question.

  “Ms. Lane came by later in the day,” Morgan replied. “She already had some of the information, and in an effort to make certain she didn’t run a story with incomplete facts, we confirmed the rest of it for her.”

  “Why not call everyone else to give them the same courtesy she got?”

  “Because we were hoping to put off the press conference until today so we could have a clearer picture of Nate Foley’s health status,” Morgan answered, causing Sophie to roll her eyes. She knew the truth. Morgan had no intention of letting the information slip until he could control it. She forced his hand and now he was paying the price. He was clearly unhappy with her machinations.

  “And what is the status of Nate Foley’s health?” Sophie asked, locking gazes with Morgan. “Will he be charged once his health allows him to be transported to the Macomb County Jail?”

  “We can’t give out too many specifics about the suspect’s health,” Morgan replied, choosing his words carefully. “I can say his recovery isn’t a foregone conclusion. We’ll have to wait and see on that front.”

  “So what’s your plan?” Sophie asked, refusing to cede her control to another reporter so they could ask a question. “Will you be building a case on the assumption Nate Foley is going to recover?”

  Morgan and Humphrey exchanged a quick look, which wasn’t lost on Sophie. They were hiding something. It could’ve been something as simple as their distaste at having to answer a question she posed, but instinctively she felt it was more than that.

  “We are going to continue to collect evidence and go from there,” Morgan replied. “We cannot make plans for something until we know what’s going to happen. I’m sure you understand that.”

  “Does that mean you hope that Nate Foley’s recovery takes long enough for the public to forget about it?” the Channel 4 reporter asked, her blond bob bouncing in the breeze. “I heard a rumor that you guys were going to drag this out as long as possible so people will forget how upset they are.”

  Humphrey lifted an eyebrow. “You heard a rumor? Would you care to tell us who told you this rumor?”

  “Not particularly.”

  “Well, I don’t address rumors,” Humphrey said.

  “So, when filing my story, is it fair to say that you refused to answer charges of a potential cover-up?” Sophie asked. “I mean, that’s essentially what you’re doing.”

  Humphrey scowled. “Ms. Lane, that is not what I’m saying at all,” he said. “There is no cover-up. I can promise you that.”

  “So, when Nate Foley is well enough to be charged, are you saying he’ll be charged?” Sophie was dogged in her pursuit. She wanted Morgan or Humphrey to commit to a course of action before they could figure a way out of the media firestorm.

  “If the suspect is proven to be guilty, then we will pu
rsue every avenue we have to make sure justice is served in this case,” Humphrey said.

  “Well, you’ve already got his blood alcohol test back, and he was belted in the driver’s seat of his car, so I’m kind of curious what other evidence you need,” Sophie pressed.

  “She’s right,” one of the Detroit daily reporters interjected. “If this was anyone other than a politician’s son, we wouldn’t be having this discussion. Is Nate Foley going to get special treatment because of who he is? And, if so, how do you expect residents to take that? Should they just ignore it?”

  Humphrey blew out a frustrated sigh and scorched Sophie with a murderous look. “I can promise you that Nate Foley isn’t going to get special treatment,” he said. “Once his health is … affirmed … we will be moving forward with prosecution. No one is above the law in Macomb County.”

  Sophie fought to contain her smile. The tragedy was nothing to laugh about, but if Humphrey attempted to cut a political deal later on, he would lose his standing thanks to his public statements. She couldn’t help but be proud she forced his hand.

  “Is there anything else?” Morgan asked, the set of his jaw grim as he scanned the assembled reporters.

  “Just one more question,” Sophie said, internally smirking as Morgan’s chest heaved. “Has Chuck Foley been in contact with the prosecutor’s office regarding a deal for his son?”

  Humphrey’s mouth momentarily dropped open and then he snapped it shut as he tried to hide his shock. “I am not at liberty to discuss any communication between the suspect’s family and my office at this time. Those … dealings … are private.”

  “But just until they go in front of a judge, right?” Sophie asked. “There’s no way this case will be pleaded down to the point where it won’t go in front of a judge, will it? I mean, that would really get the residents fired up if that happened.”

  “That will not happen, Ms. Lane,” Humphrey said, although the rising color in his cheeks told Sophie she’d hit the nail on the head. Chuck Foley had been in contact with Humphrey, and whatever they discussed had just been thrown out the window. “As long as the suspect recovers, this case will see the inside of a courtroom.”