Bell to Pay

by Jeremy Waldron

  His protégé, Maid Marion, was first to come to mind. But now I questioned if I was right about Loxley also being LilJon, or if he, too, was another person entirely.

  I reached for my cellphone and checked if Susan responded to my request to help track down Damien. I had a burning desire to go knock on Backstage’s door myself but needed to give King time to conduct his work. Besides, I still felt awful about trying to twist Susan’s arm into accepting Damien’s offer to take her out. She was clever enough to produce the same results by keeping their relationship strictly business, and I failed to even have considered it. I just wanted to know if Damien’s name should be crossed off my list of suspects or not.

  There was nothing from Susan. I placed my phone next to my keyboard and went back to reading.

  Would anyone know if Damien was up to his old tricks again? Even under the supervision of a parole officer, would they be savvy enough to recognize his secret identity—if he had one? I doubted the city could afford to assign such a skill to someone like him, and besides, I was reminded of what Allison said about how good Loxley was. I’d experienced it myself. The fact that even King didn’t have a solid suspect in the case was proof of just how good this individual was.

  I heard Cooper’s nails clacking their way into the kitchen. He rested his big head on my thigh and demanded an ear scratch.

  “Who do you think Loxley is, boy? Black or Garcia?”

  Cooper raised a single eyebrow and licked his chops as he headed to his empty food bowl. My stomach grumbled as well. I fed him first, then I made myself some buttered toast before heading into the living room where I turned on the TV and flipped to the news.

  Nancy Jordan’s story about the mystery vigilante was still the talk of the hour. I thought how she got exactly what it was she was after—perhaps even better than she could have imagined herself. Prime Time quickly turned into, All The Time. Not only did the story last the night, but momentum seemed to be growing.

  I stood with my arms crossed and shaking my head, knowing Nancy was singlehandedly jeopardizing this entire case with this one story quickly spinning out of control. Worse, I feared it might spawn hoaxers who would confuse us even more.

  Then I heard something even more surprising—something even worse than hoaxers.

  The story of an unknown vigilante on a killing spree not only stoked fear, but it also opened the doors for many to come out in support of what it was Loxley was doing. Overnight, Loxley had become a nameless, faceless celebrity with a growing fan base cheering him on. Maybe Loxley wouldn’t hide because of the publicity, but rather be inspired by it.

  I felt new wrinkles formed as I listened to one concerned citizen say, “These people were criminals. They stole from me, you, and anyone else they thought they could manipulate by using their power and wealth to influence. Whoever this guy is that’s killing these people, he’s doing us all a great service. We should be grateful.”

  Disgusted, I flipped the channel.

  Another man was being interviewed. He was armed and on the hunt to stop the vigilante himself. He didn’t care that there was physical description, name, or anything to go on to know who it was. He just wanted to get in the fight.

  I sighed and wondered how much time we had before the ones chasing Loxley became the victims themselves. A quick scroll through the news stations told me they, too, were piggybacking off of Nancy’s story. It was the talk of the town.

  My phone rang and I hurried into the kitchen to answer it. “Hello.”

  “Samantha Bell?”

  “Yes, this is she.” I didn’t recognize the deep baritone.

  “Mrs. Bell, my name is Chuck Morgan from the hospital morgue.”

  “What can I do for you Chuck?” It was never a good sign to get a call from the morgue. At least I knew Mason safe.

  “I was returning your message about Parker Collins. I’m afraid he didn’t make it.”

  The air stilled as I was instantly transported to the scene of yesterday’s crash. I could still smell the scent of burning oil, the shouts of the fireman rushing to contain the scene. Inside, I’d known Parker wouldn’t make it. But it was nice to have confirmation. “Okay, thanks for getting back to me.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  As soon as I was off the phone with Chuck, my phone lit up with another call. This time it was Cecelia Garcia.

  “Have you heard from Joey?” Cecelia asked me. “He never came home last night.”

  I could hear the stress in her weak voice. “No, nothing,” I said.

  “It isn’t like him to disappear without telling someone.”

  “Have you tried calling the newsroom?”

  “He’s not picking up. No one has seen or heard from him since yesterday.” Cecelia was afraid Joey reached his tipping point and was about to do something crazy. Her words were scaring me into believing she could be right and Joey might actually do something we’d all regret.

  “Maybe he got caught up in a story; you know how crazy our jobs can get some time,” I tried to reason, but even I didn’t believe the lies I was telling.

  “There is something I didn’t tell you last night,” Cecelia said, acting as if she hadn’t listened to a word I said. “Before you arrived, Joey and I had a fight.”

  My brow wrinkled as I searched for what response I could give. “What was it about?”

  Cecelia paused, the phone’s static popping in my ear. Then she said, “Two detectives came by the house yesterday, said they were investigating a homicide and wanted to speak with Joey.”

  “Did they?” I played coy, already knowing the details King shared.

  “He wasn’t home,” Cecelia said, telling me how she allowed the officers to search his office without his permission. “Joey was furious I had done that without a warrant, but what was I to do?” Cecelia wasn’t looking for a response. “He assaulted me last night… in front of Katie.”

  I tipped my head up and felt my eyes widen a fraction. Now her behavior last night was beginning to make sense, and so was her obvious concern for what Joey might be planning to do. But assault? Did I not know the man I’d worked with all these years? It seemed like I didn’t.

  “This is all my fault.”

  “Don’t blame yourself, Cecelia.”

  “You don’t understand. I told him to leave.”

  “Joey wouldn’t harm anyone,” I said, suddenly not sure that was true. “Maybe he took his gun as a needed precaution.”

  “I don’t think so. He’s going to hurt someone, Samantha. I can feel it in my bones. I’m afraid it might be those same detectives who came to the house that he’s after.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “Because they took something I know Joey didn’t want them to see.”

  Chapter Sixty-Four

  “Alex, it’s me again. I really need to speak with you. It’s about Joey Garcia. Call me back as soon as you get this.” It was the second message I’d left with King in the last half-hour. I didn’t know where he was or why he wasn’t picking up, but I didn’t like not hearing from him after what Cecelia told me.

  I gripped my phone in my hand, exited my vehicle, and headed into the newsroom with a stitched side jabbing me with worry.

  Garcia knew we were on to him, knew the detectives were at his place. I was afraid we were backing him into a corner where he’d have no choice but to fight.

  Not too long ago, I would have never thought he’d be capable of doing such horrendous things. Cecelia did a good job convincing me otherwise. I just hoped King would call me back so I could give him a heads up.

  I headed straight for Garcia’s desk and wasn’t surprised to find it empty. His computer was on, but no one was around. I dipped into his cubbyhole and pressed my palm into his seat cushion. It was warm. Someone was here, but was it him? I stood and looked above the walls without any luck in spotting him. Then, as soon as I turned around, I collided into Travis Turner.

  Papers dropped to the floor a
nd Travis took a step back, quick to apologize. “I’m so sorry,” he said. “My head was in what I was reading.”

  “No.” I kneeled and helped gather what he’d dropped. “It was my fault,” I said, trying to see what had his attention.

  Travis looked over his shoulder before guiding me back inside the walls where we hid near Garcia’s computer. In a hushed tone he said, “I looked into Brett Gallagher like you asked.”

  I’d completely forgotten about my request. So much had happened since. “And?”

  Travis nodded slowly.

  My eyes did a double-take. “He has a Bitcoin account?”

  “I confirmed it.” Travis grinned. “Don’t ask me how, but I did.”

  I couldn’t believe it. Skinny Tree Brett Gallagher had a Bitcoin account confusing me more than ever. Just when everything was convincing me Garcia was the one to have blackmailed Richard Thompson, possibly the other victims too, now I learned this. But if Garcia wasn’t blackmailing them, then what was he doing with the stories we found in Parker Collins’s car?

  “Are you going to tell me what this is about or what?” Travis’s eyes glimmered with hope.

  I stared into his curious eyes, remembering my promise to tell him why I wanted to know about Brett’s possible use of cryptocurrency. If I could match the key code found on Thompson’s desk to Gallagher, then we’d be one step closer to our perpetrator. “I can’t say.” I stood and made a turn to the exit. “Not right now.”

  “Samantha,” Travis grabbed my arm and swung me around, “that wasn’t our agreement. You said—”

  “I know what I said.” I cast my gaze to his hand still pinching my arm. When he let go, I said, “I need to speak with Brett. Why don’t you come with me?”

  Travis broke eye contact and let out a heavy sigh. “He’s not here, Samantha. A no-show.”

  “What? Did he call in sick?”

  Travis shrugged. “Last I heard from him was yesterday. Thing is, I found Joey Garcia’s cell on a sticky note on Brett’s desk.” Travis turned his head and glanced to Joey’s desk. “That was the reason I was here. I was hoping to speak with Garcia myself, see if he was still in need of my department’s services.”

  I raised a single eyebrow. There was something Travis wasn’t telling me. I knew he had been on Garcia’s computer only minutes before I arrived. My bullshit detector was sounding the alarm, and when I asked him about it, his face reddened with guilt. Now I knew something was up.

  “Travis, I can see it on your face,” I said in a harsh, whispered tone. “Why were you really coming to speak with Garcia?”

  He held my eyes and cleared his throat. “I found something.”

  I folded my arms and angled my chin. “Found what?”

  “I shouldn’t be telling you this.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. Then he inhaled a deep breath and said, “Keep this between us, but Garcia might have been selling favorable press coverage to the very people his stories glorified.”

  “Names, Travis. I need names.”

  I watched his eyelids droop over his irises just as he said, “You know the names.”

  My head floated back as the names of Richard Thompson, Donny Counts, and Parker Collins rang in my ear. Could the files Erin found in Collins’s car yesterday be what Travis was talking about? It certainly seemed likely.

  “I stumbled upon it this morning while finishing out the last of the system updates. I shouldn’t have read the email, it was none of my business, but I thought it was work related and was curious to see what Joey was asking Brett.”

  “What did you find, Travis?”

  “Evidence proving what Garcia was doing.” Travis jutted his jaw to Garcia’s desk. “He had it on his computer. All the files… all the dirt.”

  “But if Garcia was the one extorting these people for money, why did Brett have the Bitcoin account?”

  “Your guess is as good as mine.”

  My heart knocked against my ribs steadily. Brett was suddenly at the top of my list of possible suspects when I started thinking about how someone hacked my email telling Dawson about Parker Collins also being a fraud. Could it have been Brett and Garcia working together?

  “Interesting,” Travis said after I told him about it. “I should probably take a look on your computer.”

  Trading Garcia’s desk for mine, Travis asked me if I’d heard about the vigilante the TV news stations couldn’t stop reporting. “I thought maybe you would have picked up the story yourself,” he said.

  “I’m not interested in sensational news,” I said, dropping into my chair and swiveling it around to my computer.

  “Fair enough, but do you think it’s true?”

  After logging in, I asked if he found anything mentioning Parker Collins. I was hoping Travis would have found the information I needed to confirm that Garcia did in fact give the files to Collins just moments before he died. Travis hadn’t, so I redirected our conversation back to how my email might have been hacked.

  “It’s quite easy, actually, and may not have been hacked through this computer specifically,” Travis said, reminding me that my email account ran separately from my laptop and phone.

  “Are you any closer to learning who might have hacked the paper?” I asked, getting out of his way so he could check my account.

  He locked eyes and pretended to zip his lips shut.

  “Why can’t you talk about it?” I snapped, thinking that with what I knew it had to have been Loxley.

  Travis rolled his gaze toward upper management’s doors. Then he inhaled a deep breath and murmured, “Because no one wants to hear what I have to say.”

  Chapter Sixty-Five

  “I’ll believe you,” I told Travis. “Tell me, what is it?”

  Travis’s fingers typed furiously as he clicked his way through my account, opening and closing different browsers while reading the script code behind the scene, telling him what my computer was doing and why.

  I set my hand on his shoulder and he stopped. “You can trust me.”

  Travis turned his head and stared at my hand on his shoulder for a long pause before sweeping his glistening eyes up to mine. “It’s too risky for me to tell you here.”

  “Then let’s go to your office.”

  Travis held my eyes inside of his and shook his head.

  I knew whatever it was he was keeping from me had to be big. The suspense was killing me.

  “Even there isn’t safe,” he said, reaching behind himself to retrieve his wallet. I watched him open it up and pull out a single business card. Flipping it around, he bit off the pen cap with his teeth and jotted down his personal cell. Handing it to me, he said, “I’ll call you later today from this number.”

  I took the card between my fingers and studied the digits. Travis stood and said, “I couldn’t find a breach in this computer but, like I said, email hacks can be tricky to locate as they can happen from anywhere.”

  “What should I do?”

  Travis looked me directly in the eyes and said, “Tell the story you were told to write.”

  I stared into his crinkled eyes thinking it an odd thing for him to say. Then I thanked him for taking a look under the hood before he exited my cubicle. Shoving his card into my front pocket, I needed to speak with my editor.

  As soon as Dawson caught sight of me, he called me into his office. “What was that about?” he asked the moment I entered.

  I shut the door behind me and summed up how Travis was looking into who might have sent the email to Dawson yesterday about Parker Collins’s supposed fraud.

  “Is it true?” Dawson asked.

  I still didn’t know. Then Dawson asked about the possible Ponzi scheme Donny Counts was being accused of running and where I was with that story. “No time to investigate,” I said, thinking Garcia already had all the information I needed but was keeping it a secret from everyone, including editorial.

  Dawson’s expression pinched and I could see it in his eyes. He was losing patience wit
h me, as I’d given him nothing since my Thompson story.

  How long had Garcia been sitting on the information? Would his sources even reveal to me what they knew if Garcia threatened to extort them, too? Garcia not only abandoned the ethics we swore to abide by as journalists, but he threw the entire paper under the bus by risking each of our reputations with what he was doing. I was so angry with him. I wanted to bring it up with Dawson but didn’t know how without making it seem like I was stabbing a colleague in the back.

  “Have you been following this vigilante story circulating TV news?” Dawson asked, quick to mention the public outcry that followed.

  “Total bullshit,” I said.

  Dawson’s eyebrows flicked as he tucked his chin and grinned. Then he looked me in the eye and said, “I need something, Sam.”

  “The story is already out there. There is nothing more I can say that hasn’t been said on social media already.”

  He threaded his fingers together and placed his hands on top of his desk. “You sound like you’ve given up.”

  I felt like I had. Loxley was killing me softly.

  Dawson frowned. “Have you heard any more from Loxley?”

  “No.” I shook my head. “He’s been quiet.” It wasn’t the complete truth, but I knew the angle Dawson was fishing for. Even if I had it, I wasn’t sure I would have been willing to reveal my cards for the sake of selling papers. The more Loxley played with me, the less I wanted to be part of anything he did.

  “I’m running out of options.” Dawson rolled his eyes to the left and sighed.

  My body temperature spiked as I needed to tell Dawson about Garcia—what I spoke to Cecelia about and what Travis just revealed to me as well. Except Dawson beat me to the punch.

  “IT found something that might explain Garcia’s behavior,” he said.

  “I heard,” I muttered softly, wondering how much Dawson already knew. Without him asking, I told him about what I knew the detectives found in Garcia’s house—my Thompson story and the list of people Garcia may have been extorting. Dawson couldn’t believe what I was telling him, but wasn’t all that surprised, considering what Travis found on Garcia’s computer.