Deadly Memories (Hardy Brothers Security Book 18)

by Lily Harper Hart

  “Oh, don’t worry, he’s still alive,” Peter said, waving his hand. “He wasn’t cut out for security work, but he was perfect to take care of the gardens at my Tuscany home. He’s still there.”

  “You have a house in Tuscany?” Grady was flabbergasted. “How come I didn’t know this?”

  Peter shrugged. “You never asked. If you can get Sophie to take some time off, I’ll arrange for you to stay at the house for as long as you wish. It’s quite lovely.”

  “It is quite lovely,” Sophie agreed. “Can we go back to talking about my car? I cannot take this thing to work. People will talk.”

  “That’s not my biggest concern,” Peter said. “I want to know who would paint the word … well, you know what word … on your car. Do you have any suspects?”

  “I have no idea,” Sophie said, her face smooth as the lie slipped off her tongue.

  Grady frowned as he studied her and the expression wasn’t lost on Peter.

  “Something tells me Grady feels different,” Peter prodded. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  “You’re a terrible liar,” Sophie said, wrinkling her nose at Grady. “I’m guessing you got caught all of the time when you were a teenager.”

  “I did get caught a lot,” Grady confirmed. “I got away with a lot, too. I just can’t figure out why you’re trying to hide this from Peter. It’s not like it makes you look bad.”

  “It’s not like it makes me look good either,” Sophie pointed out. “I don’t want to worry him.”

  “Well, I’m already worried,” Peter said. “It can do you no harm to tell me what’s going on.”

  “Ugh.” Sophie made a disgusted sound in the back of her throat. “I’m going to blame you for this when it blows up in my face, Grady.”

  “I can live with that.”

  “It’s nothing really,” Sophie said, turning her somber brown eyes on Peter and flashing her best “I’m your daughter and you can’t yell at me” smile in his direction.

  “Don’t do that,” Peter chided. “That’s your puppy dog face. I don’t like your puppy dog face.”

  Grady snorted while Sophie’s face fell.

  “It really is no big deal, Peter,” Sophie said. “I got assigned to the accident out at Stony Creek the other day. The father of the boy driving the car had an issue with me printing the full story and came after me in a restaurant while I was having lunch with Mandy. He said some nasty things and stormed out. He’s the one who probably did this.”

  “I see.” Peter’s face was unreadable.

  “What kind of nasty things did he say?” Sven asked, causing Sophie to shoot him a dirty look. She’d purposely glossed over those details because she didn’t want Peter to flip his lid and go after a county commissioner on her behalf.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Sophie said. “Words can’t hurt me. Peter always told me that.”

  “Let me be the judge of that,” Peter said. “Tell me.”

  “He just made mention of my mafia daddy, called Mandy a bimbo and told her to shut her hole, and then threatened to sue the newspaper and get me fired if I wrote another story about his son,” Sophie said, opting to lay everything out at once.

  “Your mafia daddy?” Peter cocked a challenging eyebrow. “What did you say to that?”

  “I said if he approached me again I was going to have my mafia daddy have a talk with him,” Sophie replied, resigned to telling the truth. “That upset him and he took off right after.”

  “And the stuff he said to Mandy? Was she upset?”

  “I don’t think she was happy, but she didn’t cry or anything,” Sophie said. “She was laughing about it after lunch. I’m sure she’s fine.”

  “Don’t worry,” Grady interjected. “I’m sure James soothed her hurt feelings with chocolate … or a massage in the hot tub … or his penis. She bounces back quickly. Don’t worry about Mandy.”

  “I already don’t like this man,” Peter said, wrinkling his nose. “I understand being upset because of something your child does, but I do not understand threatening the person doing her job in the aftermath.”

  “I think that’s easy for you to say when you’re not the father of a drunk kid who just burned his entire future and killed three of his friends,” Sophie said. “It’s really not a big deal. I don’t want you getting worked up about it.”

  “But … he wrote ‘whore’ on your car,” Peter protested. “That can’t be ignored.”

  “Technically we don’t know it’s him,” Grady cautioned. “It could’ve easily been some of Nate Foley’s classmates. This is probably more a teenager’s speed than an adult’s form of payback. I’m going to put some cameras out here this afternoon just to be on the safe side, though.”

  “I’ll put someone on the street to watch the house, too,” Peter said.

  “No way,” Sophie protested, vigorously shaking her head. “I don’t need a babysitter.”

  “Fine. I won’t put someone on the street.”

  “Oh, good grief,” Sophie muttered. “That really means you’re going to put someone on the street and pretend you didn’t. I’m not an idiot.”

  “I never said you were,” Peter said. “I’m glad you agree with my methods, though.”

  “I don’t agree,” Sophie argued. “I simply don’t have time to fight with you. I need to get to work.”

  “You can take my truck,” Grady offered. “I’ll handle getting your car detailed this afternoon.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “It will be fine,” Grady said.

  “Wait, why don’t you take my car instead, Sophie?” Peter suggested, pointing toward his Mercedes. “Grady might need his vehicle and your car could be in the shop for more than one day. I have four cars. I can have a driver over here to pick me up in less than a half hour.”

  “Really?” Sophie eyed the Mercedes. “That’s an expensive car. What if I get in an accident?”

  “Then I’ll buy a new one,” Peter replied, unperturbed. “It will be fine. Take the car. I’ll catch up with Grady over coffee while I’m waiting for another one to be delivered.”

  Sophie wasn’t big on ostentatious showings, but the idea of driving a Mercedes for the day held a certain amount of appeal. “Sold.”

  “TELL me what you really think,” Peter prodded once Sophie was gone and it was just Grady and him sitting next to the counter in the kitchen. “Sophie made light of this commissioner going after her, but she does that all the time. Do you think he’s a threat?”

  “I don’t know,” Grady answered honestly. “I’m going to ask some questions and try to ascertain that myself. Mandy might know a few things, too. She works in that circle. The judge might be able to help us.”

  “I don’t know you as well as your brothers do, but I think I know you well enough to read you most of the time now,” Peter pressed. “Something is bothering you, and if it’s not concern for Sophie’s safety, it has to be something else.”

  “It’s just … Mandy got it in her head a few months ago that she needed to find some photos of Sophie’s biological parents because she was sad Sophie didn’t have anything to remember them by,” Grady said. “Mandy conned James into hiring someone to see if he could find something … old photographs … anything really.”

  “Did he?”

  “He found a storage locker her foster care advocate rented,” Grady replied. “It had a lot of old stuff in it.”

  “And Sophie doesn’t want to see it?” Peter was confused.

  “Well, instead of asking her, I stuck my nose where it didn’t belong and James and I opened the locker,” Grady explained. “I thought for sure it would be two old boxes or something. The thing is full, though.

  “I brought two of the boxes back and told Sophie what I did,” he continued. “She wasn’t upset. She was a little nervous, but it went well at first. I gave her a framed photograph of herself from when she was little and she was kind of awed because she didn’t remember what she looked like.”

>   “I would like to see that when she’s ready,” Peter said, the corners of his mouth tipping up. “I don’t know what she looked like either.”

  “I’m sure she’ll be happy to show you,” Grady said.

  “What’s the problem?”

  “There was also a gray jewelry box in with the other items, and when I handed it to Sophie she reacted … badly,” Grady said. “Her face went white and she jumped up from the couch as if the box was infested with bugs or something.”

  “I see.”

  Grady narrowed his eyes. Peter usually had a masterful poker face, and yet for a moment, when he mentioned the box, Peter’s infamous cool slipped. It was brief, but for a split-second Grady saw regret and heartbreak reflected on the man’s face. “You know what’s in the box, don’t you?”

  “Of course not,” Peter said, clearing his throat and hopping up from his stool. “Look at the time. I’ll handle Sophie’s car so you don’t have to worry about it. I’ll keep you abreast of the situation.”

  “Peter?”

  Peter refused to meet Grady’s eyes, but he stilled before striding toward the door. “I know you love Sophie, Grady, but perhaps some things are better left forgotten.”

  “But … what is so important about the box?”

  “Life throws everybody curveballs, Grady,” Peter said. “Sophie had her fair share before I found her. Sometimes you can’t fix everything.”

  Grady opened his mouth to ask another question, but Peter was already at the door.

  “Don’t push this one, Grady,” Peter said. “You might regret it if you do.”

  9

  Nine

  Sophie was late for work, but just barely. The newspaper’s secretary fixed her with a snarky look when she strolled into the front vestibule of The Daily Tribune.

  “You’re late.”

  “You’re a master of the obvious, Marge,” Sophie said, biting her cheek to keep from saying something obnoxious to the longtime receptionist. They didn’t have the warmest of relationships – Marge convinced Sophie looked down on her and Sophie convinced Marge had a pathological need for attention no one would ever be able to fill – but Sophie wasn’t in the mood for a fight.

  “Why were you late this morning?” Marge asked, ignoring Sophie’s desperate glance at the glass doors that led to the newspaper office’s inner sanctum. “Please tell me your boyfriend wised up and kicked you to the curb.”

  For years Marge harbored a crush on James Hardy that bordered on the ludicrous. When he fell in love with Mandy, her hopes were dashed. She switched her over-the-top affection to Grady in the aftermath, although Sophie was still trying to decide if Marge really liked her handsome boyfriend or if she was merely trying to get under Sophie’s skin.

  “I’m sorry to disappoint you, but Grady and I are still happy.”

  “And still living together?”

  Sophie nodded. “We share a bed and everything,” she said, internally snickering when Marge made an exaggerated face and mimed throwing up. “I’m sorry I’m late. I had a spot of car trouble and had to get a loaner car. If you feel the need to tattle to human resources, be my guest.”

  “I’m not a tattletale,” Marge replied primly. “I’m a trusted employee of this establishment, and as such, I have a responsibility to make sure the employees don’t take advantage of our kind-hearted employers.”

  “Wow, that was a mouthful, huh?” Sophie said, widening her eyes. “Have you been practicing that answer for a long time?”

  “You’re so full of yourself,” Marge grumbled. “I can’t wait until someone knocks you down a peg or two.”

  “Well, keep hoping,” Sophie said. “I don’t think it’s going to happen today.”

  Sophie stilled when she saw the sly smile move across Marge’s face. Did she know something?

  “You should probably go to the front office instead of the newsroom this morning,” Marge said, adopting a sickly sweet tone for Sophie’s benefit. “I believe they’re expecting you.”

  “Who is expecting me?” Sophie was confused. She didn’t like how triumphant Marge appeared. The woman fancied herself more important than she was, but she seemed a little too happy. “What’s going on?”

  “Mr. Malcolm and Mr. Dorchester are waiting for you in the meeting room in the front office,” Marge answered. She was practically flapping her vulture wings – ready to pick at Sophie’s carcass should she die – she was so excited. “They left word that they wanted you to head there right away when you arrived. They probably weren’t expecting you to be late.”

  Sophie scowled as she strode toward the door. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “You didn’t ask.”

  Sophie fought to tamp down her nerves as she hurried down the hallway in the direction of the front office. She was sure the meeting had something to do with the Nate Foley story. His father probably called to complain or something. While she usually didn’t have a fear of authority figures, the publisher Archibald Dorchester wasn’t known for being hands-on when it came to the editorial staff.

  Sophie offered the bug-eyed woman behind the desk in the administration office a wan smile and the secretary wordlessly pointed toward the conference room instead of speaking. Sophie tugged on her frayed courage as she entered, pasting a pleasing smile on her face as she moved toward the table.

  Conrad Malcolm, Sophie’s editor and close friend, offered her a reassuring smile as he pointed to the chair at the end of the table. “Have a seat, Sophie.”

  “I’m sorry I’m late,” Sophie offered lamely, briefly wondering if she should’ve kept that to herself. “I had car trouble. I had to get a loaner.”

  Dorchester, his head completely bald, lifted his eyes to Sophie’s and affected a puzzled look. “Wasn’t that you I saw driving a Mercedes and parking at the end of the lot so no one would risk dinging it? That’s not a loaner car.”

  Drat! Sophie had forgotten the publisher’s window looked out on the parking lot. “I had to borrow my foster father’s car because mine needs to go into the shop.”

  “I hope it’s nothing serious,” Conrad said.

  “No, it’s mostly … cosmetic,” Sophie said.

  Dorchester obviously wasn’t big on small talk because he got right to the point. “Ms. Lane, we’ve received a call from Commissioner Foley and three of his lawyers over the past twenty-four hours,” he said. “He’s threatening a lawsuit.”

  “Okay,” Sophie said, unsure how she was supposed to answer. “What did you say to him?”

  “I told him I had no intention of kowtowing to his demands and backing off on the story,” Dorchester answered. “He didn’t seem to like my answer … made some veiled threats that frankly bored me … and then swore up and down he was going to sue us.”

  Sophie licked her lips and swallowed hard. “Do you think he will?”

  “I don’t really care,” Dorchester said. “You got the information from the sheriff himself. There was nothing inaccurate about the report. Frankly, Commissioner Foley is talking to hear himself talk at this point.”

  “You didn’t do anything wrong,” Conrad said. “We just want to make sure you’re extra careful going forward. Double and triple check statements when at all possible. Foley is going to work overtime to get us – especially because you were the only one who had the full story that first day – so we don’t want to give him any ammunition if we can help it.”

  “I always double check my facts,” Sophie said. “I never print anything I’m not absolutely sure about.”

  “Yes, I’m sure you’re very diligent,” Dorchester said. “This is a big story. Circulation yesterday was through the roof when we beat everyone and it was still strong today. I want you to put all of your efforts into chasing this.”

  “Okay,” Sophie said, exchanging a quick look with Conrad. He didn’t give her any clues to Dorchester’s intentions, so she plowed forward with only a hint of hesitation. “How far do you want me to go? Do you want me to go to the famil
y’s home? What about the school?”

  “Talk to the students,” Dorchester said. “Do not go to the family’s house unless they send out a press release requesting attendance from a reporter. Don’t give him something else to bellyache about.

  “I have faith you know what you’re doing, Ms. Lane,” he continued. “Don’t let me down. Keep crushing the competition when you can. I have a feeling this is only going to get bigger if we play our cards right.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “WHAT’S up, buttercup?” James asked, smirking as Grady slid into his office an hour after his shift was supposed to start. “Are you late because you had a good night, or a bad one?”

  “We had a great night,” Grady answered, narrowing his eyes and practically daring James to say something obnoxious. “We had a rough morning, though.”

  James’ smile slipped. “What happened? Was Sophie upset about us breaking into the storage unit?”

  “She wasn’t happy about that,” Grady said. “She didn’t give me a lot of grief. She was thrilled with the framed photograph of her when she was little. She didn’t remember what she looked like at that age.”

  “Well, that makes me sad,” James said. “I kind of forget sometimes that she didn’t always have it easy. She only spent a few years in the lap of luxury with Peter as a kid. It was harder for her before that. If she was thrilled with the photograph, what’s wrong?”

  “Well, there’s a few things going on, but the big one today involved Sophie’s car,” Grady explained. “When she went out to the driveway this morning, she found someone painted the word ‘whore’ on the side of it.”

  James knit his eyebrows together. “Whore? That’s kind of … high school.”

  “It is,” Grady agreed. “The problem is that she’s on that big story about the county commissioner’s son getting hammered and driving off that bridge at Stony Creek.”

  “I’m aware of the story,” James said. “It’s been all over the news.”

  “Yesterday, the father verbally attacked Sophie in a restaurant, and I’m kind of wondering if he would be worked up enough to do something this juvenile as payback,” Grady said. “By the way, I’m not sure if she told you, but he was mean to Mandy, too.”