by W.H. Harrod
“What am I going to do? I need to make a decision right now,” said Terrance as he traveled the route from Mrs. Bidwell’s house back to the pressroom. Only this time, every single nerve in his body felt completely frazzled. Nervously, he glanced at his wristwatch; it showed 2:53 p.m. If he decided to go ahead and write the article in order to meet the deadline—the safe thing to do—he needed to get started now. Writing the article and telling what he knew to this point, including the discovery that the person known as Joseph D. Right for the last twenty-plus years was, in fact, a fraud made the most sense. However, a voice from somewhere inside whispered, “Don’t do it. This might be your big break. Besides, if they print the article they’ll still assign the follow up story to one of the veterans. You’ll still be left out of the investigative reporting.”
Terrance couldn’t make up his mind in the Cherokee; he wanted to go to a quiet place and think without being interrupted. Where could he go? It came to him in a flash, the river levy. The road on top of the levy ran for miles down the north side of the river, devoid of any human presence except for the occasional jogger. He wheeled around and headed straight for the downtown bridge. Light traffic this Saturday afternoon informed him the local university football team must be playing out of town.
Once parked, out of the car, and onto the wide path running the length of the levy, one thing became instantly clear to Terrance—he hated the thought of turning this story over to someone else. It might be his big break. However, if he decided to develop the story himself, he couldn’t mention anything about his discovery of Joseph Right’s identity fraud. If he did, he would lose the story and his chance to land the big one.
There was another important thing to consider. If he went through with this crazy plan, did he really have the guts to finish it? If he got scared and blew the whole scheme, he could foresee getting into a lot of trouble. Certainly, he would be fired and end up with a blemish on his employment record. Something like that could prevent him from attending law school, as they required valid character references. If his current employer refused to vouch for him, his application to law school would most likely be denied. A botched scheme could have far-reaching consequences. This required an honest gut check here. Did he have the nerve to do this?
It occurred to Terrance then, as never before—that wanting something was one thing, but possessing the ambition to go after what you want is something entirely different. He’d heard it said often in his young life, “If it was easy, everybody would be doing it or would have it.” They don’t, not by a long shot. He saw more clearly now that true ambition amounted to more than wanting something; it meant being willing to risk what you have, to get that which you desired. People didn’t do what he contemplated doing because they simply wanted something. They did things like this because they craved the rewards to be gained more than those things they now possessed. They had to do it. Did he?
This may very well be a pivotal point in his life if he decided to take advantage of this opportunity. Could he rely on the old lady, Mrs. Bidwell? Was she for real? Did she know something more as she suggested she might? Could he trust her to help him? If she ended up knowing nothing and merely played the part of a meddler, he could be in big trouble. She possessed the ability to blow this whole thing wide open if she wanted.
A chill ran down his spine. Her remark, “This will have far reaching and serious ramifications—many people will be affected by what is found out and reported here,” unnerved him. What did she mean by “serious ramifications?” Was she referring to him being sued, ending up in trouble with the authorities and going to jail, or getting physically hurt? Was he up to such a task? Was he that ambitious?
Terrance stopped for a moment and scanned the scenic river vista before him. Everything looked so serene. Humans are certainly strange creatures, he determined as he allowed his mind to wander away from the weighty matters before him. We humans sure have a talent for complicating things. Wonder why we can’t all simply sit down and leave well enough alone?
“Enough of that,” he scolded himself. “Figure out what you’re going to do.” As he admonished himself, he remembered to check the time, almost 4 p.m. He turned back towards the bridge; a decision had to be made. He gave himself until he got back to the car. He had no more time. By the time he got back to the car, Terrance arrived at something at least resembling a decision. He convinced himself to delay a couple of days to try to get a better read on this thing. He planned to stall his editor by telling him the story required more time to verify certain information. He would not let him know about the stolen identity report just yet. He knew a butt chewing awaited him for not getting the story together by tonight, but it would be worth the trouble if it played out like he hoped. Starting Monday, he would thoroughly grill the landlady. He would find out if she knew anything more and what she meant by “serious ramifications.”
Terrance experienced a slight sense of euphoria from the decision he’d made. Maybe he hadn’t committed completely, but he hadn’t rolled over either. That kept him in the game and gave him a chance to become a player after all. Then another idea hit him. After he broke the bad news to his editor, and assuming he still had a job, he’d call Jess and make plans to see her that evening. Being with her always took the stress away. She knew how to get him to lighten up. That sounded like an excellent plan. Already, he felt his confidence building.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN