Small Town Secrets
Page 11
David took a long breath. “You haven’t told him yet.”
“Of course not!” Her words were sharper than she intended. “Not something you just drop into casual conversation.”
“But if you like him, and more important, if he’s attracted to you — you need to let him know.”
“I told Jaime and you know how well that worked out.” She crossed her arms in front of her chest.
“Jaime was a jerk.”
Tara shifted her weight onto her back leg and glared at her brother. “He was your best friend.”
“Exactly.” David chanced a grin. “I’m a horrible judge of character.” He motioned for her to sit back down. “But Tara, really, Josh needs to know.”
“I just don’t know how to tell him.”
Chapter Ten
November
“You made it.” Matt Delacey waved to Josh from a table alongside the crowded bar. “I was beginning to think you were standing me up.” He laughed as he sat and picked up his mug of beer.
“With you just in town for one night, not a chance.” Josh motioned to draw the bartender’s attention. “Just took a few extra minutes to wrap up tonight.”
Matt pushed a basket of Buffalo wings in front of his friend. “Well, I hope you at least got her number.”
Josh shook his head. “Nothing like that. Just going over some last minute details with my dad.” Not that he would have turned down meeting a woman tonight, but he knew he wasn’t just wanting the attention of any woman. Things with Tara had reached an impasse since he’d taken her home after the drive-in. She was perfectly professional, and that was exactly the problem.
“Josh?” Matt waved his hand in front of Josh’s face. Josh cringed as he realized he hadn’t heard the last few minutes of conversation. “Your dad. How is he?”
“Sorry,” Josh let out an exasperated breath. “It’s been a rough few weeks.” He turned as the bartender approached the table. “Whatever you have on draft.” After shrugging his jacket off and placing it on the booth’s cushioned seat next to him, he stifled a yawn. “My dad’s not good. I’m taking over at the station on Monday.”
Matt’s brow furrowed with concern. “Dude, when you left New York, I knew he was in bad shape, but you didn’t tell me it was that serious. I would have called.”
“No,” Josh corrected him. “He’s going to be fine, but the doctor just wants him to take it easy — not something he’s very good at doing.”
“That sounds like your dad.”
“So, I hear you got a promotion.”
Matt shook his head in disbelief. “It just happened Wednesday. How’d you hear about it so fast?”
Josh waved a celery stick in his friend’s direction. “If I told you, I’d have to kill you.”
“Isn’t that supposed to be my line?”
“I don’t know. You’re the FBI agent. You tell me.” He bit off a hunk of the celery and watched as Matt’s cheeks flushed.
“Who are you paying off?”
“Seriously.” Josh held up his hands in surrender. “I’m not paying anyone. I called your office to confirm I could meet you tonight, remember? A secretary answered. That means you had to have a promotion.”
Matt nodded slowly. “And I thought I had a leak.”
“No leak. Just a best friend with excellent journalistic instincts.”
“Did anyone ever tell you that you’re a pompous jerk?” Matt took a long drink from his beer.
“Frequently.” Josh paused. “Any interesting cases I should know about?”
“Josh.” Matt’s voice held an unspoken warning, but Josh’s attention had already shifted to a crowd gathered around the pool table.
“Is that guy everywhere?”
Matt laughed and almost spat out his drink. “You know Wyatt Miller?”
“You could say that.” He still couldn’t reconcile the fact that Tara used to date the jerk. “He’s the town’s new football coach. Hometown hero and all that.”
“He’s coaching? Hope they keep the cheerleaders away from him.” Matt wiped his fingers on a napkin and tossed it onto the table in disgust.
“What are you talking about?”
Matt took a long drink from his mug. “The Denver PR team went out for drinks the night the team released him. The guy’s bad news. They didn’t release him because of his knee. He was too expensive.”
“Why was he expensive?”
“This isn’t classified information. You’d know about this if you paid attention to sports sometimes. You know that?” Matt shook his head and gestured to the crowd gathered around the popular former football player. “Guy was a lawsuit magnet. Right before the playoffs, their head cheerleader filed assault charges against him.” Matt glared over his mug of beer at the crowd. “After a few weeks, she changed her story. Said she’d been drinking and was just confused. She gave herself the black eye by tripping and hitting her face on the coffee table.” He dipped a chicken wing in ranch dressing and took a bite. “Happened in Tulsa and in Miami too. There’s a reason the guy got around so much. He was a nightmare.”
“Wyatt? Did anyone ever try to get a case against him?”
Matt nodded as he stretched his arms over his head. “He’s a real piece of work. I know Tulsa came closest to charging him. Nothing sticks, not even the case in college.” He dipped a celery stick in the bowl of ranch dressing. “That’s what you get when your dad’s the DA and owns most of a county.”
An uncomfortable rumble went through the pit of Josh’s stomach. “He’s been charged four times?”
“Last time I checked, his record was completely clear.”
“I guess that’s how he passed the background check to teach at the high school,” Josh cocked his head at the table where the football player was holding court. A young woman slid next to him and handed him a pad of paper for his autograph. Wyatt’s eyes lingered a little too long on the laces of her corset top.
• • •
Josh spent a sleepless night after he drove home to his condo. Every time he’d close his eyes, Matt’s words would rumble through his head. Wyatt arrived in town in August, and the first attack was the night of his welcome home party … and during the party, Wyatt took a picture with the first victim.
Oh hell, no.
He tried to convince himself he was reading too much into his friend’s story, but then he remembered Wyatt’s actions with Tara. He wasn’t just a jealous former boyfriend — he was borderline abusive.
At five A.M., he finally gave up trying to sleep and got out of bed. Turning on the coffeepot, he made his way into his office and turned on the computer. If Wyatt hadn’t been charged with the crimes, he wasn’t sure what kind of search to do. His background check must still have been clean or even his celebrity status wouldn’t have paved the way for him to work in Miller’s Grove High.
Over the next few hours, he didn’t find any definite information — other than the knowledge that each of Wyatt’s accusers now owned substantial real estate in their respective towns. He pulled up Wyatt’s personal statistics from his last year in the NFL. Where did he go to college? His eyes scanned the screen. Wyatt was a quarterback for USC.
Josh tapped the desk with pent-up energy fueled by too much coffee. Confident he was on the right track, he kept digging. Wyatt might not have a record, but if Josh could talk with enough of the victims, he might find out something useful. The problem was, who would be willing to talk with him? After the women received that kind of payoff, he suspected they’d have a convenient memory loss.
He needed to know more about the girl from Wyatt’s college years. With a few clicks of the keyboard, he found an article about an assault on campus Wyatt’s senior year. No details of the case were released to protect the victim’s privacy.
Josh sla
mmed the pen against his desk in frustration. Maybe he wasn’t going about this the right way. Tara had done a great job of connecting with the victims in town. If she called the women involved in the other cases, she might get enough details to link Wyatt with what was happening in Miller’s Grove.
He glanced at the clock. Nine A.M. Tara struck him as an early riser. He grabbed his notebook, keys, and left his condo.
• • •
Josh pulled his car to a stop in front of Tara’s house. The newspaper was still in the driveway — not a good sign. Things had been awkward between them over the past few weeks, and if he woke her up, they were likely to become even more strained.
But she was a reporter. A promising lead on a story was better than coffee.
Trying not to slam his car door, he made his way up her walk, relieved to hear Rosie’s barks from the backyard. Since she struck him as a definite house dog, he decided Tara was likely awake. He bent down and scooped up the newspaper. Placing it under his arm, he juggled his notes and the box of doughnuts he’d picked up along the way. If he was risking the chance of waking her up on a Saturday, he was bringing breakfast with him. Surprised to find himself mildly nervous, he buzzed her doorbell and waited.
And waited.
And waited.
Just when he had decided she wasn’t answering the door, Rosie’s barks stopped. The front door opened a crack.
“Um, did I forget we were meeting this morning?” Tara brushed her dripping hair back from her face. The smell of her shampoo drifted out the doorway. He’d gotten her out of the shower. She looked like she’d thrown on the first thing her hands touched — a mismatched hoodie and yoga pants.
“I found something out last night that you’ll find interesting. At least I think you will.” He held up the box of doughnuts. “And I brought a peace offering.”
Tara shook her head and chuckled. “Well, since you brought breakfast, come on in.” Still laughing, she opened the door and beckoned him inside. Josh couldn’t help but smile. She didn’t laugh nearly often enough. He wanted to change that.
“Whoa.” The flash of gray and white almost knocked him off his feet.
“Rosie.” Tara caught hold of her dog’s collar. “Get down.” She glanced at him with embarrassment. “She knows what’s inside that box. David taught her about doughnuts.”
He raised the lid and took out a handful of doughnut holes. “I think we can spare a few.” Flinging them into the air, Rosie caught the glaze-covered treats without hesitation.
Tara’s smile widened as she knelt next to the dog and scratched her head. “Oh, you like him, don’t you?” Still kneeling on the floor, Tara looked up at him. “Bribery will get you everywhere with her.”
At that moment, Josh decided he owed the dog a bone … or several bones. If she could break the tension between him and Tara, he’d make sure the dog had a lifetime supply of her choice of treats. “I’ll have to remember that for the future.” He quickly averted his eyes as he realized the collar of her hoodie was gaping open, giving him far too interesting a view.
Tara yawned as she walked into the kitchen. As she took a second coffee mug out of the cabinet, she looked over her shoulder. “Why are you here again?”
“I was talking to a friend of mine last night. I learned some interesting news about our friend Wyatt.”
The coffee cup shattered at Tara’s feet as she looked back at him with a stunned expression. “I guess I’m not awake yet this morning.” She disappeared into the pantry and came out with a dustpan and brush. “You learned something about Wyatt?”
“My friend Matt was in town last night, and we met at Rowdy’s. Wyatt was there too, being his typical charming self. Matt told me a few interesting details about your ex-boyfriend.”
“Like what?” Something about her voice sounded off, far away. Before he could figure out what had changed, she bolted away, dumping the ceramic pieces in the trashcan. She stayed in the kitchen longer than it took to pour two cups of coffee.
He watched her. She just stood there, gripping the edge of the cabinet.
Her shoulders rose and fell. He couldn’t hear her breathing. The only sound in the room was the ticking of the clock. He was ready to get up and follow her in the kitchen when she walked back to the table and placed a full cup in front of Josh. She motioned toward the paper on the table in front of him.
“He’s been charged with sexual assault four times — none of the cases went to trial.” Josh offered her his notes.
“Really?” Tara’s coffee cup was shaking, dark brown liquid cascaded over the side of the red and white striped mug. She hastily placed it on the table in front of her.
He indicated a list of names running down the side of the page. “All of these women seem to have been paid off. The cases were all their word against his. No physical evidence. When they changed their stories, the court couldn’t press charges. I was wondering if you could talk with them.”
“What are you hoping to find out?”
Josh shrugged. “I’m not sure, but if his methods were the same in these cases, we might be able to prove he’s behind the attacks here too. You’ve done a good job with the victims here so far. Maybe they’d tell you something if they thought Wyatt was doing the same thing here.”
“I can try.” Tara squinted as she tried to read his hastily written notes. “If they’ve been paid off, they’re not likely to talk.”
“I know that.” Josh nodded with assurance. “But the one I really want to talk with is here. There’s not much to go on from the article.” He turned the page of the notebook and showed her the information he’d listed from the attack at USC. “I left a voicemail with the campus chief of police, but I haven’t heard back from him yet. We need to know her name.”
The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees.
Tara swallowed so loudly, Josh could hear it from across the table.
He wished he could take back the last ten minutes. Hell, he wished he could take back the last twelve hours. The expression on Tara’s face told him everything he needed to know … and far more than he’d wanted to find out.
He didn’t want to know about this.
Tara’s brown eyes met his. They were filled with sadness. Remorse. Something else.
“You don’t have to wait for him to return your call.” She looked at him and her voice was just a whisper. “The girl at USC was me.”
Chapter Eleven
With those words, all the pieces fell into place. How Tara bonded so quickly with the current victims, how reluctant she was to be touched, how badly she reacted the night he kissed her. All the questions that had been running through Josh’s head suddenly had answers.
“That’s why I never told you.” Tara swallowed thickly and stiffly turned her back on Josh.
He slowly walked behind her and placed his hand on her shoulder. “What do you mean?”
Tara’s lip was quivering as she struggled to keep her emotions in check. “The expression on your face.” She sniffed and reached for a tissue from the box on the corner of the kitchen counter. “It always happens. Every. Single. Time.” She forced a smile and sighed. “And now you’re probably ready to leave.”
Josh stood still — totally stunned into silence. She thought he’d leave now? He saw her pain-filled eyes and circled around to fully face her. Careful to make certain she realized what he was doing, he reached out and stroked her cheek. “I don’t know what kind of jerks you’ve dated in the past, but nothing’s changed for me.”
“You say that now but … ”
“But nothing.” Josh watched as she seemed to retreat within herself. “Come on.” He grabbed her jacket from the back of one of the kitchen chairs. “Let’s go for a walk.”
Tara hesitated before placing her arms in the sleeves. “A walk?”
• • •
Ten minutes later, Tara locked the front door behind them. She’d taken a few extra moments getting dressed, trying to collect her thoughts. Josh knew.
Josh knew.
Now everything was different. She could see it in the way he looked at her, even now, standing on the front porch, something had changed. She stepped around Jaden’s jack-o’-lantern. Her nephew begged her to let his friend stay just a few more days. She’d taken some degree in satisfaction knowing the decoration likely annoyed Mrs. Miller. Josh stood a few steps away, waiting; his blue eyes fixed on her every movement. “I’m not going to run away.”
“I didn’t think you were.” He took the first step down the winding cobblestone path leading to the kissing gate in the picket fence surrounding her house. Relieved to see Tara following him without argument, he appeared to be using the few moments of silence to try to collect his thoughts.
They reached the tree-lined path at the end of her street, and he waited to see which path she wanted to take. Tara turned in the direction of the duck pond; Josh walked alongside her. The walking trail through the natural area was normally busy with young families, but the threat of rain appeared to be keeping her neighbors indoors today. It was just as well. This conversation would go better without an audience.
“How much do you want to know?” She kept her eyes fixed on the path in front of her.
He jammed his fists into his pockets. Whether from anger or to help keep himself under control, Tara couldn’t decide. “Whatever you want to tell me.”
Tara looked up at the leaves rustling in the trees overhead. She didn’t want to tell him anything. But now he knew. What he imagined was probably far worse than what actually happened. Tara plunged into the story with no preamble. “Wyatt’s fraternity was having an after-homecoming party. I knew everyone there, but I knew the drill.” She held up her fingers and made air quotation marks. “Don’t drink anything from the punch bowl. Don’t drink out of a bottle you didn’t open. I didn’t think don’t hand your drink to your fiancé when you go to the bathroom needed to be on the list.”