Small Town Secrets

by Molly Kate Gray

  “Not at all, but we need to.” Tara gave what she hoped appeared to be an encouraging nod. When she’d asked to speak with him, Preston had refused to meet at her house or his office — instead wanting a more neutral location. Wyatt’s father had always made it a habit to get things exactly the way he wanted them. “I’ve got this. Now, we just have one more thing to check.” She made a spinning motion with her index finger in Josh’s direction as she reached for the top button of her blouse. Reaching inside her lace-trimmed bra, she tapped the miniature microphone. “Can you hear me?”

  His back still facing her, he nodded. “As long as you stay on the patio, I shouldn’t have trouble picking up your signal.” He turned slightly and looked over his shoulder. “I still wish you were letting me come with you.”

  Tara reached for his hand and turned him back around. “You will be. He just won’t know you’re there. And Matt can hear everything too, right?”

  Josh put a finger to the earpiece he wore. He nodded. “Matt says you’re coming through loud and clear.”

  “Then everything’s set.” She exhaled slowly and dropped her head to his chest. He placed his arm around her and pulled her tighter against himself as he kissed the crown of her head. “Okay.” She straightened up and tugged her suit jacket back into place. “It’s show time.”

  • • •

  Tara handed her keys to the valet as she stepped from behind the wheel of her car. In the quiet of the morning, her heels echoed against the cobblestone path. “Thanks.” She waited for him to drive away as she stared up at the building. A favorite of her parents and other members of Miller’s Grove society, she wasn’t surprised when the district attorney recommended Burton’s for their meeting. The first time she’d eaten here, she hadn’t even been tall enough to reach the cast iron doorknob. A flood of memories washed over her, and she had to wonder if that was exactly the reason the senior Miller wanted to meet here … to remind her of her position in the town.

  “Hello, Miss Sullivan.” The black-tied host nodded from behind his mahogany stand. “Mr. Miller has already taken a seat on the balcony. Please follow me.”

  Of course, he’d already been seated. She’d arrived fifteen minutes early to try to choose the spot with the best view from the street, but the district attorney was clearly trying to establish who was in charge here from the start. Tara followed the gray-haired man through the winding corridors until they came to the doors leading to the yellow-painted patio. A sign hung from the main set of French doors.

  Patio closed.

  Apparently, District Attorney Preston Miller wanted this to be a very private conversation. The host pushed the creaking door open and beckoned her to follow him. The flowering plants that normally framed the area were gone in preparation for the night’s expected freeze. Tara fought back a smile. Josh wouldn’t have any trouble taping her meeting.

  She briefly looked at the surrounding streets while they made their way to the table. Josh was nowhere to be seen, but she knew that was the general idea. The host paused in front of the single occupant of the patio, and Tara turned to face Mr. Miller. He’d chosen a table as far from the door as possible. Taking the seat with his back to the door, he indicated that Tara was to take the seat opposite him. He literally had her backed into a corner.

  Any other day, Tara would likely have enjoyed sitting on the patio, but as she took her seat, Mr. Miller gazed at her with the affection of a shark preparing for its next meal. “Thank you for joining me.” He half-stood as he held his cloth napkin in place on his lap. He turned to the host. “That’ll be all, Zachary.”

  “Of course, sir.” The man inclined his head to the district attorney. “Susanna should be right with you.” Backing away from the table, Zachary motioned for the members of the wait staff to move away from the windows overlooking the outdoor seating.

  “I hope you don’t mind that I’ve taken the liberty of ordering.” His black eyes trailed slowly over her as he tucked his napkin back into his lap.

  “I hardly expected otherwise.” Tara didn’t miss the fact that his gaze stayed just below her lace collar for longer than needed. She cleared her throat as she adjusted her blouse and waited for his attention to return to her face.

  “So, what brings me the pleasure of meeting with you here this morning?” His grin was reminiscent of the Cheshire cat.

  “Why, I was assuming you wanted to tell me how much you enjoyed my story on the charity golf tournament.” She stared back at him. Two could play this game.

  He gave a soft laugh as their server approached the table.

  “Coffee?” Susanna waited for Tara to nod before filling the china cup. She gave the hasty retreat of someone long accustomed to working for Mr. Miller.

  “Did you select our waitress?”

  “She knows I tip well, and she’s learned to be discreet.”

  Tara poured cream into her coffee before adding two teaspoons of sugar. The only sound was the clink of her spoon against the cup. She reminded herself that getting nervous would tip her hand. Remembering her conversation with Agent Fox earlier in the week, she knew that she needed him to lead the conversation.

  The silence at the table was stifling as she picked up her coffee and took a sip.

  “You really are your father’s daughter … aren’t you?” Mr. Miller smirked as he dabbed at the corner of his mouth.

  Tara tilted her head to the side. “I’m not sure if that’s a compliment or not.”

  “Of course it is.” He took a long breath. “Why would I have made sure he was in office if I didn’t think he could do the job?”

  “You put my father in office?” Tara couldn’t hide the surprise in her voice.

  His chuckle was louder this time. “Why go to the trouble of holding an office when you can pay to put the right people in place?” He slowly surveyed the historic section of town visible from their table. “I like it here. No reason for me to move to Atlanta when I can make sure my people are doing what I want.” He folded his hands and leaned onto the table. “Money can be a very good friend.”

  “I’m sure that’s true.” Tara filed that bit of information in a corner of her memory. She could sense the May sweeps story just ready to be written. “But that’s not why I’m here.”

  Susanna stepped onto the patio with a tray heavily laden with plates. She didn’t look at the pair as she placed their breakfast in front of them. Eggs, bacon, grits, and toast — the meal was large enough that he obviously expected them to be here for quite a while.

  “Thank you, Susanna. If you’ll leave the coffeepot on the table, we won’t trouble you again.” He handed the waitress a hundred dollar bill.

  “My pleasure, sir.” She didn’t even blink at the large sum. She deposited the coffeepot on the side of the table and walked out of view. Tara had the distinct impression that would be the last time she’d see the waitress before she left the restaurant.

  “Now that we won’t be disturbed, shall we get down to business?” He cut his fried egg with a knife and fork and took an oversized bite.

  “Gladly.” Tara forced back the churning in her stomach and followed his lead.

  “Do you really want to be her?”

  Tara felt her eyebrows knit together. “A waitress? My job’s pretty secure.”

  “Of course not.” His face flushed a muddled red in a burst of anger. “I mean the woman they all remember. The one they all talk about.” He stared her down. “My son is the hero of ten-year-old boys everywhere. Old men stop him in the mall and ask for his autograph. Are you sure you want to be the one remembered for tarnishing that memory?”

  “I’m pretty sure your son did that on his own.”

  “It’s your word against his. Don’t you remember last time? You had to leave the country, didn’t you?” He watched as Tara placed her toast back on the edge of h
er plate. “Do you really want to go through that again? They’ll dig into your history. Reliving everything on the stand.” He spooned a bite of grits.

  “You can’t scare me that easily.” Tara ran her hands over the napkin in her lap. “I know about the cheerleader in Denver and the reporter in Tulsa. Isn’t this where you make me an offer I can’t refuse? You know there’s no way for all the evidence to disappear this time. I have my own copies of my medical report — so does the station.”

  “Some girls like it rough.” His leering expression made her stomach turn. “Just because you needed stitches doesn’t mean it wasn’t an accident.” He took a deep breath and stared over his glasses at her. “Those girls were easily manipulated. You’re more of a challenge, but you’ll still break.” His lip turned up indulgently as he wiped his thick mustache. “You don’t need the money.” He interlocked his fingers and leaned closer to her. When he answered, his voice was little more than a whisper. “I could offer you cash or to pay off those pesky loans of your brother’s, but that’s not what makes you tick.” He smiled at his own skill. “That’s the difference between those who are successful and those who aren’t. You have to know what offer someone won’t refuse.” He let his statement hang in the air. “What will Josh Owens think when you’re up on the stand?”

  Tara clenched her teeth together. “Josh was there. He knows what happened.”

  “Maybe. Are you really ready for the tough questions? How did my son get that key to your house?” He sipped his coffee. “He might change his mind about you.”

  Tara closed her eyes. She was back on the swing overlooking the river. The water churned at her feet as Josh held her tightly. His words played back in her mind. Her eyes snapped open, and she looked at the man sitting opposite her with determination. “He won’t.”

  Caught off-guard, the district attorney sputtered into his coffee. “I wouldn’t be so sure of that.” He recovered his poise quickly. Preston paused, a poker player considering his next move, his fingertips skimming the edge of the table. He steered the conversation a different direction. “I’d stop asking questions.”

  “What?”

  “Isn’t that what the message said?”

  “How do you know about the brick?” Of course he knew about the message attached to the brick. He’d probably written it himself.

  “I saw the report.” Preston squeezed a lemon into his glass of ice water. “Your father was always asking questions.”

  Tara reached for the water glass, but her fingers slipped on the condensation. The glass tipped on its side, sending a flood in Preston’s direction.

  “Messy business.” His wording seemed to be chosen with the deliberate double meaning. He began to sop up the spill with his napkin.

  Time stood still while his words soaked into Tara’s thoughts. Her dad had been asking questions. She’d seen the files. Ice flowed through her veins. “What are you saying?”

  “He shouldn’t have been driving that night. It was quite a storm. I’m not surprised they didn’t find any traces of the car that hit your parents.”

  Tara shot to her feet, almost upending the table. Her parents had been driving home from a party at the country club that night. A party hosted by the Millers.

  Preston was an excellent poker player. He knew he held the winning hand. “Like I said, I’d stop asking questions.”

  • • •

  Josh’s phone buzzed in his jacket pocket as he watched District Attorney Miller practically sprinting through the parking lot with his phone at his ear. Keeping a steady grip on the camera, he pressed the button to answer the incoming call.

  “You’re right. All hell just broke loose at the courthouse.” Todd didn’t hide the awe in his voice. “You really need to get over here. Four cars just pulled up. Looks like Wyatt rounded up half the football team to help him. They’ve all got bags and boxes. If I didn’t know better, I’d think someone was moving.”

  “Todd, keep filming.” A beep sounded, interrupting his call. He pulled the phone away from his ear and looked at his screen. Why was his father calling him? “Todd, I’ve got another call. I’ll grab Tara, and we’ll be right there.”

  “Hurry or you’re going to miss the most excitement this town has had since Mrs. Pendergrass rear-ended the school bus.”

  “I definitely don’t want to miss that.” Josh laughed as he ended one call and began another. “Dad, what’s up?”

  “I’m at the station.”

  “You’re what?” Josh tapped the car’s horn to draw Tara’s attention. Pointing to the passenger seat of the car, he opened the back door and tossed in the camera he’d been using.

  “Don’t lecture me. I just came by to pick up something, and I heard everyone talking about Tara’s meeting with Miller. I’m watching Todd’s feed right now.” His father laughed into the phone. “That courthouse is hopping. As soon as you get there, we’re going live.”

  An ashen-faced Tara dropped into the passenger sheet. “He killed my parents.” Her hands were shaking so badly she couldn’t fasten the seatbelt.

  “I heard. So did Matt. He’s got a team on the way.” Josh didn’t start the car. He looked in Tara’s direction. She hadn’t been on the best terms with her parents but hearing that her next-door neighbor had them killed couldn’t be easy for her. “Are you going to be all right?”

  “He killed them.” Tara’s repeated, her voice scarcely louder than a whisper.

  “I know.” He spun in his seat, taking hold of Tara’s hands. Cold and clammy, she looked like she was going into shock. “And we’re going to make sure he pays for it, but I need you with me right now.” He waited for some sign she understood him.

  She took a breath and nodded.

  “We need to go to the courthouse. Are you going to be able to handle it?”

  Tara nodded again. “What’s going on?”

  “That’s what I want to find out.”

  • • •

  “I can’t believe it.” Tara leaned back against the bumper of Josh’s car as a black van with tinted windows came to a stop in front of the courthouse. Drawn by the live broadcast announcing the unusual activity at the courthouse, the spectators murmured with excitement.

  “I owe Matt a beer.” Josh took hold of the camera as he pushed Tara into place.

  “Who are they? What do I say?” Still reeling from the morning’s activities, Tara stared at the men pouring out of the van in awe.

  “Ad lib.” Josh smirked and began a countdown with his fingers. “Three. Two. One.” He nodded as the light on top of the camera changed to green.

  “Good afternoon! This is Tara Sullivan coming to you again live from the Miller’s Grove courthouse where we reported earlier about some unusual activities taking place. Now it appears we have FBI agents entering the building.” She fought back a grin as Josh waved to the agent in the front of the group. The man gave a quick nod of acknowledgement and then turned back to the building.

  That must be Matt. Josh’s network of contacts had definitely paid off with this story.

  Not wanting to miss any of the excitement, she began walking in the direction of the courthouse steps, thankful when Josh followed her. She stepped deeper into the foyer and could hear raised voices from down the hall. The reception area for the district attorney’s office was buzzing with activity. She motioned for Josh to film. When familiar voices echoed down the marble corridor, she paused and smiled while watching the events unfold in front of her.

  “What is this?” Preston Miller slid his hand behind his back to hide the roll of black trash bags he’d brought with him. “What gives you the right to be in my office?” His cheeks reddened as he looked around at the law enforcement agents standing at his door.

  “This.” A dark-skinned man wearing reflective sunglasses handed Preston a sealed envelope. “C
ourt order.” He gave a cocky smile. “I think you’ll find it pretty self-explanatory.” He motioned for his men to begin carrying out the overflowing trash bags.

  “But you have no proof I did anything wrong. I’m just cleaning out my office.”

  “I think they’ll find all the proof they need on your computers.” Josh laughed from his position behind the camera. “Or maybe in those bags.”

  • • •

  “Hey, Dad, where do you want this?” Wyatt carried a black trash bag in each hand.

  “I think I’d like to know the answer to that.” Tara picked up the camera and smiled.

  Wyatt surveyed the room, studying the federal agents busily completing their document seizure. He slowly turned in Tara’s direction, his face taking on a deep shade of purple.

  He bent low to the ground, his veins throbbing at his temples.

  He wasn’t Wyatt the gentleman or Wyatt the hometown hero or even Wyatt from next door. He was Wyatt the football player, and he was angry. It didn’t matter that he was the quarterback; he knew how to dodge and twist to get to his intended target.

  And right now, he was fixated on Tara standing about ten feet in front of him, laughing. He growled low in his throat as he began to move forward. “This is all your fault.”

  The team of FBI agents responded quickly, but not fast enough.

  Wyatt twisted and turned, dodging past one then two then three agents in his quest to reach Tara.

  Not on his life.

  Wyatt was released from the football team for a reason. A bum knee. Josh swung the camera as hard as he could, sweeping Wyatt’s right leg out from beneath him. The former football player dropped to the ground, releasing a stream of profanity that made Josh pray the live stream was actually on a delay or they’d be facing a hefty FCC fine.

  But it would be worth it.

  “Actually, this is all your fault.” Josh stood above Wyatt who was still rocking from side to side in agony. With tears in his eyes, the sputtering young man had lost all of his former bravado. “And your dad’s.”