by Willow Rose
“Thanks,” she said and sipped her beer, feeling uplifted. Maybe things weren’t as bad as she made them out to be. Maybe people weren’t only talking about her and Wanton; perhaps they actually saw what she was capable of? Maybe she had actually impressed them?
There’s still hope. It’s not all over yet.
“Hi there, Samantha, isn’t it?”
Sam turned and saw John Savage. He had moved up and was now sitting next to her, smiling at her the same way he had when coming into the bar earlier. Sam swallowed hard. She tried to smile back. This guy would one day be the one to decide whether or not she’d be hired back after her internship. He was also Wanton’s best friend since college.
“Yes, that’s me.”
“I know who you are. You’ve got quite the reputation around here.”
“O-okay?”
“Oh, don’t worry. I didn’t mean that in a bad way at all. I know it was you who researched that story about Mayor Bounik. I know it was all your hard work.”
That made Sam smile, relieved.
“Really?
John smiled back, then leaned over and whispered in her ear. “I know what happened with Wanton. Do you want to go somewhere private?”
Samantha stared at him, on the verge of breaking into tears. A deep furrow grew between John’s eyes.
“What’s wrong?”
He placed his hand on her shoulder, and the touch made her shiver. John leaned in. Samantha pulled away, grabbed her purse, and ran into the street, tears rolling down her cheeks.
Is that how they see me? Is that all I am to them?
Chapter 62
I had one more card to play. One I had been reluctant to pull out but would do if there was no other way. And we had reached that point now. There was no way back.
I had to call Miranda.
My ex-mother-in-law.
I used another burner phone, then told her where we were. We had stopped close to a BP gas station and a McDonald’s on the other side. I didn’t offer her any explanation; I just told her it was urgent, that I was in trouble. Miranda knew me well enough not to ask any more questions.
I had always liked Chad’s mother and often thought about contacting her after the divorce. But somehow, I could never get myself to do it. It just felt odd somehow. Like I was no longer entitled to have her in my life.
She drove up twenty minutes later in her old purple 1987 Chevy Suburban pick-up truck and stopped. The sun had begun to rise behind the BP sign, and I felt exhausted.
“Eva Rae!”
She came out in her ripped jeans and a white T-shirt that read Spiritual Gangster. She grabbed me in a deep hug that almost lifted me off the ground, her silver mane flowing behind her back. Then she saw Kimmie, who was standing behind me. She dropped me, placed both hands on her hips, then said:
“What is she doing here?”
I exhaled. “She’s the one I’m trying to protect.”
“From what? Wrecking more homes? She’s the one we need protection from if you ask me.”
“She’s a witness in the Wanton-trial in two days. They’re trying to kill her.”
Miranda gave me a puzzled look. “The what now?”
“You haven’t heard about the Wanton trial?” I asked. “It’s been all over the news the past several weeks.”
“Honey, I don’t follow the news as long as they don’t follow me. I stopped watching that stuff many years ago and am only the happier for it. Can’t trust anything that’s being said anyway, am I right? It’s all just fear-mongering. They want us afraid so that they can control us. That’s just my two cents on that.”
I nodded. I disagreed with her, but that didn’t matter. The less she knew, the better anyway. She lived on a farm outside of a small town called Boonsboro, some sixty miles from D.C., and her place would be the perfect hideout for us until the trial. I just prayed I wasn’t putting her in any danger by asking her for help.
“Someone is trying to kill her, you say?” Miranda asked and looked at Kimmie, who shifted on her feet nervously. Miranda laughed and faced me. “And it isn’t you? Because no one would blame you for wanting to do that, hon. No one would even lift an eyebrow. The way she behaved, she’s going to Hell on a full scholarship.”
I looked at Kimmie, who seemed very uncomfortable. I couldn’t blame her, yet I had to admit I enjoyed it just a little bit. That was okay, right?
“Come on,” Miranda said. “Let’s get you back to the farm and cleaned up. You look like you slept with the pigs and smell bad enough to gag a maggot. Now, get in. All of you.”
Chapter 63
The upcoming trial was all over the news that very morning, again. Rachel stared at the TV in her kitchen while sipping her coffee, watching old footage of Richard Wanton walk out of the courtroom a free man some weeks ago when he was released on bail. The images of him glaring at the camera and smirking still aroused fear and anxiety in her, but this time, she felt stronger. She was terrified of what she was going to do, but at least she was no longer alone. She knew now that what had happened back then wasn’t her fault, and it was time for them to stand up against the man.
The reporter stated that since the witness to the murder had been killed, it was a great likelihood that Wanton would be able to leave the courthouse in two days as a completely free man, cleared of all charges. The man who killed the witness was still on the loose but was believed to be a crazed fan of Wanton’s, and during the investigation, the FBI had not found any connection to Wanton himself.
“With no witness and no hard evidence linking him to the murder of Samantha Durkin, it doesn’t look like the FBI has much of a case left against Wanton,” the reporter said, standing in front of the same courthouse in her gray suit jacket and skirt. Rachel remembered those days when she had been hopeful and aspiring like her, wanting to be a live reporter. Then she wondered how far this woman had to go to get to this position. How much had she had to bear to get to where she was today? How much weight, from sexual abuse or harassment, was she carrying around? What wasn’t she telling her loved ones out of shame?
It was for women like her that Rachel was doing this. For her and the coming generations. Someone had to.
Rachel shook her head and turned off the TV. She finished her cup and grabbed her purse, then looked at her reflection in the mirror. She applied some lip gloss and corrected her eye makeup slightly. She looked good, better than she had in a long time, and she felt good about herself and what she was about to do.
She felt strong.
“You might get away with murder, but you won’t escape us,” she mumbled as she left the house and locked the front door. “The women you used, the ones you destroyed, we are still here, and there are many of us. And now, we’re coming for you.”
She got into her car, then drove across town until she reached an address in the expensive part of D.C. She drove through the gates as they opened after she had said her name into the intercom, then drove up the long driveway toward the mansion rising in front of her. She stopped the engine as she parked, then got out and walked up the stairs, where Crystal was waiting for her, holding her briefcase in her hand. She smiled when she saw her.
“Big day, huh? Are you ready? Winnie told her story yesterday, and it went really well.”
Rachel nodded nervously, then looked up at the big glass front door that marked the entrance to the home of John Savage, News Director of WBC News.
“As ready as I will ever be, I guess.”
“That’s what I like to hear,” Crystal said, then pressed the doorbell. It rang loud, and the sound cut into Rachel’s bones, making her uneasy without understanding why.
Chapter 64
“Why did you call her? She hates me.”
Kimmie stared at me as I came out of the bathroom. Kimmie and I were sharing a room while Tristan slept on the couch in the living room. I had napped for about an hour, then taken a shower and felt better than I had for days.
“Of all the people in
the world, you had to reach out to…her?” Kimmie added. “She’s always hated me. She blamed me for you and Chad’s divorce, and every time we came here to visit, she would barely speak to me except for these harsh comments that would make me want to cry. I couldn’t stand it. She always made me feel so miserable.”
I sat on the bed, then found the remote and turned on the TV.
“Are you even listening?” Kimmie asked.
I looked at her. “Yes, Kimmie. I hear you. You don’t like Miranda, and she doesn’t like you. What do you want me to do about it? Do you have any other suggestions? If so, I’m all ears. Because I have run out of ideas and almost out of cash, I came up with this. If you have something else, then please say so.”
I paused and looked at her. “No? I didn’t think so.”
I laid my head down on the pillow to rest, flipping through the channels. Kimmie laid next to me with a groan. We stayed like that in silence for a little while until she suddenly sat up straight.
“Why is it all my fault?”
I rolled my eyes. She really wasn’t going to let this go, was she?
“What do you mean?”
“You and Miranda. You both blame me for your marriage breaking up. Has it ever occurred to you to blame Chad? He was the one who cheated. I was single at the time.”
“Yeah, but you knew that he was married,” I said, annoyed.
“He said you hadn’t been a married couple for years—that you worked like crazy, and he never saw you. He said he tried for years to make things work, to keep the family together, but you always had something come up at work. There was always an important case pulling you away from them, making you miss birthdays and important dates, and in the end, he finally realized that it wasn’t going to change. You wanted this life. He wasn’t your priority. Was he lying?”
I sighed and stared at the TV. Hearing this made me feel angry and annoyed with her, even more than I already was.
“I guess he wasn’t exactly lying…but…”
“I didn’t think so. The way he described your marriage, I can’t blame him for wanting out. You neglected your family.”
I scoffed angrily.
“Hey. I was supporting my family, and yes, I was having a career. If I had been a guy, you wouldn’t have thought anything of it, but because I am a woman, then it’s not okay. That’s just wrong. Why can’t a woman have a career?”
“But you chose your work over your husband, didn’t you?” she asked. “Again and again and again.”
I bit my lip, knowing she was right, even though I hated to admit it. I had felt how Chad and I drifted apart but done nothing. We stopped talking, and when we did talk, we couldn’t agree on anything anymore. I had kept thinking we could fix it, that there was going to be time. There was plenty of time.
Until there wasn’t.
“It’s none of your business,” I said and grabbed the remote. I changed the channel. We weren’t watching it anyway. I found an old episode of Friends and stopped there. “You still don’t sleep with a married man. Especially not if he has children. You don’t wreck a family. That’s all there is to say, really. End of story.”
She paused and looked at her fingers, then added. “When did you know?”
“When did I know what?”
“When did you realize that Chad was seeing someone else? That he was having an affair?”
I shrugged. “I used to say I didn’t until the day he moved out, but if I’m honest, I probably knew way before then. They called once from that inn he would take you to. They left a voicemail on his cell that I accidentally heard, letting him know he had forgotten his wallet there. I know the alarms should have gone off back then, but I chose to ignore it for some reason. I think, deep down, I knew he was having an affair by then, but I just didn’t want to see it. I wasn’t ready. Just like I didn’t want to face the fact that we had serious problems. My solution was always to work harder. There would be time to fix it later. Actually, that’s how I knew where to find you at the inn. I knew it was the place he used to take you and that they took cash. Otherwise, it would have shown on our credit card statement that he had spent nights there with you and not been at conferences like he told me.”
Kimmie nodded. “I see. I guess that was pretty easy then. Did I ever thank you, by the way? For saving me that day?”
“Hm, let me think; no, I don’t believe you have.”
Kimmie chuckled. “Okay, then. Thank you. Also, for saving me in Sykesville and taking care of Tristan and me these past several days. Without you, I would have been dead by now.”
I smiled. “You’re welcome.”
Kimmie opened her mouth to speak, then paused as something caught her attention on the TV.
“Is that…you?”
I turned to look, then sat up straight as my picture was shown. It was an old image from my time in the FBI. I turned up the sound, my heart beating fast as the reporter told me how I was wanted by the FBI in connection with the murder of Kimmie Vanderspool, the star witness in the Wanton case.
“The suspect is considered armed and dangerous,” she closed by saying.
I turned it off, heart hammering in my chest, barely able to breathe.
“Oh, no, you didn’t. Isabella, tell me you didn’t!”
Chapter 65
THEN:
She finally managed to get her name on TV. Samantha worked hard the next couple of months on a story that she was allowed to finish. She was standing in the newsroom when she saw her own name appear on the screen, and she shivered slightly. Samantha couldn’t stop smiling as she watched her own report, seeing her hard work finally pay off. And afterward, once the anchor, Mitt Paige, had ended the broadcast and said goodnight, they all clapped for her.
“Congratulations to Samantha on her first story,” the producer, Jacob, said. “That is a big deal and one heck of a story you gave us there. You have a great future ahead of you, sweetheart.”
Samantha blushed at his kind words before she went to her desk to grab her purse and go home for the night. She was shutting down her computer first, and that’s when a colleague, Jeremy, came over to her.
“Hey, congrats on your big story.”
“Thanks,” she said with a wide smile. She couldn’t help herself; she simply couldn’t stop.
“Say, we need to celebrate, right?”
Samantha looked at her watch. It was getting late. She already had her eyes on a new story she wanted to start the next day, covering a scandal at the local university, and she had the first research interview set up in the morning.
“I really need to…”
“A group of us is going to Mitt Paige’s apartment after this to hang out and have a few beers. You should come.”
“To Mitt Paige’s apartment?”
“Yeah. A bunch of us are going. We would go out to a bar or something, but Mitt hates those places since people always come up to him and talk to him, feeling like they know him, and then he feels like he has to talk to them all night instead of relaxing. It’s the life of a celebrity. So, that’s why he has asked us all to come to his place instead.”
Samantha stared at Jeremy. He was about twice her age. She knew he was married and had children, and he seemed to care much for his family. She had seen his pictures of them on his screensaver on his laptop, and she had heard him talk more than once about his twins and the crazy things they did with great affection in his voice and eyes. He didn’t seem to be flirting with her, and she felt safe in his presence. She did want to celebrate her accomplishment, and she had never really hung out with any of the anchors. Going to his apartment was quite a big deal. It wasn’t something everyone was invited to.
You need to live a little. It can’t be all work and no play.
Jeremy smiled and grabbed his jacket from behind his chair. “You coming? We can share a cab.”
Samantha looked at her phone. Natasha was calling her, probably to congratulate her. She stared at her name, then decided not to pick i
t up. Instead, she looked up at Jeremy and put the ringing phone into her purse.
“I guess I could go for just one beer.”
Chapter 66
“You do realize your face is all over the news, right?”
I kicked a rock on the road. I had walked down the street from the farm and then continued for like half an hour to make sure my phone call wasn’t traced to Miranda’s farm. Just in case. I couldn’t be too careful, even though I was using another burner phone.
“You’re wanted in connection with murder?” my dad chuckled. “What the heck have you been up to this time?”
“I’m too exhausted even to explain,” I said.
He grew silent. “Please, tell me you’re being careful, kid.”
“I’m doing my best.”
“I might have the info you needed,” he said.
“I love how fast you are. What have you got?”
“John Savage, news director of WBC News, right hand to Richard Wanton, CEO of WBC News. Those two have been friends since college and have been helping each other out. When Wanton got promoted, Savage followed him up the ladder and took his former position.”
“And was he questioned in connection with the investigation of Wanton?”
“Yes. Several times.”
“Really?”
“He had an alibi for the night, but not a very tight one. His wife said they were together all night and that they went to bed around midnight.”
“Were there any indications that he might have been in the apartment?”
“They found his fingerprints there, but it was easily explained by him often coming there, and he had been there earlier the same day when the two of them had a meeting in Wanton’s office. A lady who cleans for Wanton testified to seeing him arrive around two o’clock and leave at five, leaving behind empty glasses of scotch. At six-thirty, Wanton left to go to dinner, according to the doorman.”