Jess nodded. A tiny voice in her head tried to remind her that she shouldn’t be talking to Jarrett. She shouldn’t be getting re-involved. She’d already decided to step back.
No, she reminded herself. Not to step back. To step away.
Completely. Forever.
“Why would he do it?” Jess said, more to herself than a question she expected an answer to.
But Jarrett had one ready. “Maybe it really was a mistake. Maybe the office misread the results or typed them up incorrectly. And maybe her boss’s ass would have been on the line if word got out that he’d screwed up a report.”
Jess considered this. “But would that be reason enough to kill her?” she asked doubtfully.
Jarrett shrugged. “I have no idea. My job isn’t to figure out motive. My job is to find the story. And this is the story.”
That word sent reality crashing back down on Jess.
Story.
Was that all this was?
Was that all she was?
She needed to stop. Stop talking, stop engaging and get the hell out of there.
But she couldn’t.
Because she was a cop, and she was thinking about what he’d just told her. Thinking about the new information. And thinking about motive.
“Don’t you see?” Jarrett said. His voice, his expression, was more animated than she’d ever seen or heard before. “If the recycling plant is leaching high levels of toxic chemicals into the storm runoff, where do you think that goes?” He didn’t wait for her to answer. “Into the lakes. Into the rivers. But also into the water table.”
The enormity of what he was suggesting began to sink in.
“Most of Aspen Falls is sandy soil, Jess. And sure, it can act as a little bit of a filter, but most of that shit will sink right down to the water. And right into people’s homes. Their faucets. Their drinking water.”
She stared at him.
“People have been drinking that water.” His face contorted in anger. “People like my mom. My dad. My neighbors. That little boy who had to move to the city to get cancer treatment.”
Her throat constricted. “I know. I…” Words failed her. She didn’t know what to say.
“When Charlie brought up the idea of looking into environmental stuff, I thought he was nuts. Sure, I went and talked to Dorothy, but it didn’t feel like so much random sickness could be connected.” He drew in a ragged breath. “And then Katie died and I charged into that story. It never even crossed my mind that the two might somehow be connected. That one story would lead me to another.”
Jess’s heart was pounding. “We have to bring in the authorities,” she whispered. “Have them look into it.”
“No.” He was adamant. “This is my story, dammit. No one else’s.” He raked a hand through his hair. “I mean, if this shit is in the water, what might they be spewing into the air? Is PCA covering it up for them? How deep does this go? Do city authorities know?”
“I know.” She nodded. “But if it’s that deep, other people need to handle it. State agencies. Federal. And the police.”
His eyes blazed with anger. “I’m going to handle it. I need to be the one to expose these bastards for what they’ve done!”
“You’re in over your head.” Her voice shook. “This is bigger than you. Bigger than a byline. We have to call it in.”
“No.” He glared at her. “This is mine.”
She shook her head. Now was not the time to be thinking of this as a story. “Can you for once not think only of yourself? This isn’t your story. You don’t get to decide how this plays out from here. You can’t dictate what gets shared, or how. This isn’t some fucking byline. If what you’re saying is true, this needs to be investigated properly. These are people’s lives. And we need to call it in.”
He gave a harsh laugh. “Really? You’re gonna call it in? And be pushed to the side—again—while all the real police officers get to work on it?”
His words felt like a slap to the face. All of her insecurities came rushing at her. “Fuck you,” she said, furious that her voice trembled as she spit the words out.
“If you call the station, your role ends. Period. Nate or Cam will come running to the rescue. Hell, so will Kellan. They’ll get all the credit. And where does that leave you? Out in the cold. Again.”
She hated his tone and hated what he was telling her.
But every word he’d just said was true.
She’d be on the outside looking in.
Which was where she always seemed to be.
Indecision warred inside of her.
She knew what she wanted to do.
But she also knew what she should do.
She stood up.
Jarrett looked at her, his eyes blazing, his jaw locked in determination.
She couldn’t meet his gaze.
He sighed. “Shit. I shouldn’t have said that. You are a real cop. You matter. But I know you want to be a part of this case, and you know that won’t happen if you bring them in.”
She eyed him stonily.
“Jess.” She could hear the warning in his voice, but she heard something else, too. A plea. “Don’t do it. Please. Just let me look into it first. Get the story. Then you can bring them in.”
Her eyes smarted with tears. “The story,” she scoffed. “That’s all that matters to you, isn’t it?”
His eyebrows dipped into a frown. “That’s my job. Investigating. Reporting.”
He wasn’t getting what she was asking.
That it was a much more personal question she was seeking answers to.
She shouldered her purse, blinking rapidly to keep her tears at bay. The absolute last thing she needed was for him to see her cry.
“Good luck with your story,” she managed to rasp out.
His frown deepened. “What are you going to do?”
Jess just shook her head. “What I should have done a long time ago.”
36
Thursday, July 5
6:30 pm
Jarrett was sitting at his kitchen table, a sea of papers spread out in front of him, his laptop tucked in amongst them. He’d spent the better part of the day frantically researching, and his brain physically hurt.
So did his heart.
He tried not to dwell on his conversation with Jess from earlier, but it was nearly impossible not to.
He knew she’d soured on the investigation…but that was when she thought nothing was there. He thought she’d jump back on board when he told her what he’d found out from Chance.
But that had backfired. Instead, she’d demanded they bring in the police. The authorities, whoever that might be.
Jarrett shook his head in disgust. Who the hell were they supposed to call? He was serious when he told her that they had no idea who might be in on what was going on with PCA. Sure, there was a small possibility that Katie’s death had been accidental, that the erroneous report her agency had submitted was due to a simple mistake.
But Jarrett wasn’t naïve. He’d determined pretty quickly that Bill’s actions and demeanor in the two times he’d spoken to the man suggested there was more to the story. It was Jarrett’s job to find out.
And if there was more to the story, it might mean other people were involved. Like he told Jess, it could be a bigger story, with other governmental agencies involved. His thoughts immediately went to Flint, Michigan, and the crisis there with the water. No, he didn’t think the city of Aspen Falls had come up with some elaborate plan to poison its residents, but he also couldn’t discount the idea that others may have known what was happening at Superior Metals and chose to either ignore or actively cover it up.
Because it seemed like that was what Bill Lewis had decided to do.
Jarrett glanced back down at the notes in front of him. He thought Jess would care. He thought she would want to be involved.
Instead, she’d walked away.
Despite the fact that she’d been on the story with him since day one.
And despite the fact that their relationship had morphed into much more than a business one.
His gut tightened.
He’d come to depend on her in the brief time they’d spent together. She was a calming presence, his sounding board, the voice of reason he sometimes needed.
But she’d become so much more.
She was the person he looked forward to seeing each and every day.
She was the woman who set his heart, his mind, his body on fire.
She meant something to him.
He swallowed.
She could very easily become the person who meant everything to him.
She walked away, he reminded himself.
He didn’t know why, and he knew that now wasn’t the time to dwell on it. She’d told him she was bringing in the police, and he’d spent the entire day racing against the clock, trying to gather as much information as possible before the dreaded phone call or text came. He knew he’d hear about it one of two ways: either a text from Police Briefs indicating what was going down or a courtesy call from Nate, telling him after the fact.
Nate. His friend was going to go apeshit over this when he found out what Jarrett had been doing. He was actually a little surprised he hadn’t heard from him. But it was a holiday, and he knew how hard Nate was trying to balance his work and his personal life.
Thank God for small favors.
His laptop had gone to sleep and he tapped a key, bringing the screen back to life. He’d started the story, had made the tenuous connections between the illnesses ravaging the part of town where Superior Metals was located.
What he needed were facts.
He knew water samples were a must. He’d found a lab in St. Paul that could provide rapid water testing results. He’d already collected a sample from his mom’s tap. If he could just get his hands on a sample from the recycling plant and get it tested, he had no doubt it would prove there were dangerous chemicals and metals in the water.
He sat back in his chair, his heart pounding.
It would be the story of a lifetime.
But just as importantly, it could provide answers. Answers to why so many people were sick.
And, perhaps, it could provide retribution.
Fines. Monetary compensation for those who were suffering.
He knew those things were far off in the future.
One step at a time.
But right now, he needed to get information and get his story published.
Before anyone else got involved.
Which meant he needed to get to Superior Metals.
Now.
37
Thursday, July 5
8:00 pm
Jessica had almost called at least a dozen times.
The phone had been in her hand, her finger poised near the keypad, ready to initiate the call.
But something had stopped her every time.
The front door opened and Megan burst inside, several plastic Target bags looped over her arms. She took one look at Jess and frowned.
“What are you doing?”
Jess glanced at her surroundings. She was sitting at the kitchen table, which didn’t seem terribly unusual. “Sitting here?”
Megan crossed the room and dumped the bags onto the table. “Are you sick or something? You look terrible.”
Jess might as well have been. Her head was pounding and she felt a little sick to her stomach.
She’d spent the entire day trying to convince herself to call the station, to report on what Jarrett had told her about the testing report and his suspicions that they might have been tampered with. And, perhaps more importantly, the suggestion that contaminated water might have something to do with residents in Aspen Falls getting sick.
It had been a complete and total waste of time.
Because she hadn’t been able to make the damn call.
All she could think about was the conversation she’d had with Jarrett at Lulu’s. How she’d be cut out of the picture.
His words had hurt. God, had they hurt.
Megan leaned close. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
Jess offered a tentative nod. The last thing she wanted to do was explain how she was feeling…and why.
“I’m fine,” she told her roommate.
Megan gave her a skeptical look. “I don’t believe you,” she announced. “But I’m also not going to pry.” She narrowed her eyes. “At least not right now.”
Jess managed a small smile.
“But tomorrow?” Megan’s eyebrows lifted. “All bets are off. So get your sulking done now.”
She turned her attention to the bags of groceries and started to unpack them.
And Jess was left right where she’d been before Megan came home.
Sitting at the table, her phone in front of her, paralyzed by indecision.
38
Thursday, July 5
9:00 pm
It wasn’t dark yet.
Jarrett was roughly a block away from Superior Metals, parked on the shoulder of the two-lane road, his eyes firmly locked on the building in front of him.
The lights were off inside, the parking lot empty.
He’d been there for almost an hour and had seen no signs of activity on the property. No security, no night workers. The place was abandoned.
He glanced at the passenger seat. He’d brought along two glass jars to collect water samples. He’d opted not to use plastic, on the off chance that there might be some cross-contamination.
All he had to do was get on the property, find a water source that he could pull a sample from, get it, and then get the hell out of there.
It was an easy enough task.
So why was his heart pounding like a jackhammer?
He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, a steady staccato that under any other circumstances would probably have driven him nuts.
He knew why he was anxious.
Because he had a sneaking suspicion that the moment he stepped foot on the property, the cops would swarm in and his story would be compromised.
He actually couldn’t believe they hadn’t already shown up. But he’d scrolled through the Police Briefs feed and had even listened in on the police scanner. He hadn’t heard a single call related to the case. In fact, it had been a pretty quiet night in general.
What he couldn’t understand was why Jessica hadn’t told her fellow officers about what he’d discovered, especially when she’d told him earlier that day that she had intended to do exactly that.
They’d sat at Lulu’s together almost twelve hours earlier.
What the hell was she waiting for?
He made a face.
He could ask himself the same question.
He just needed to get out, get the sample and go. He’d already decided that he was going to publish an initial story without the water results. He had to, if he wanted to be the one to break the story. It could be a tease of sorts…a story about the illnesses in town. Once he had the test results back, he could publish a follow-up piece, suggesting a connection. He could write a piece about Katie’s death, too. And he could continue to dig, to see what other pieces of the puzzle he could find.
Because he was sure there were more.
Lots more.
He checked the time, then glanced at the horizon. The sun was slowly sinking, but he knew it wouldn’t be dark for at least a half hour. Even then, he wouldn’t be in total darkness; that didn’t often happen until after ten o’clock in the middle of summer.
He shifted in his seat, trying to get comfortable and stay focused on what he was about to do. Thoughts of Jessica tried to creep in, but he held them firmly at bay. He needed to focus on the here and now.
He could worry about her later.
And he knew he would.
His gaze drifted back to the containers on the seat next to him. A flicker of doubt stole through him as he catalogued the facts he knew and the many conjectures he’d made.
He ha
d no proof that the illnesses were connected. Not to each other, and certainly not to the water from Superior Metals.
Which meant this could all be a monumental waste of time.
When he told Jess about it, about the connections he’d made, he’d thought it would be the story of a lifetime.
But now he was second-guessing himself. What if he was wrong? What if there was no story at all? What if the report Katie had seen really had just been an honest mistake?
What would that do to his writing career? Publishing an article based on assumptions rather than facts?
As a reporter, he knew better than that. He knew facts were the currency he dealt in, not opinions and not hypotheses.
Was he sitting there as someone who wanted to share information, to get the truth out to the people?
Or was he there as a man desperate to find purpose in his job, in staying in Aspen Falls…even if he had to grasp at straws to do so?
He shook his head.
He had to trust his instincts. He had to follow through with this, to see where it led. He could debate how to tell the story—what to share and when—but he owed it to himself and to the citizens of Aspen Falls and to Katie, dammit, to at least see if there was something there.
And he owed it to his dad.
His eyes smarted with tears. If his dad’s death had been preventable…if his illness had been caused by this…
He blinked rapidly and blew out a breath, trying to get himself under control. He couldn’t lose it now. He couldn’t think about those things.
He had to focus on getting the information he needed.
Getting the story.
He snatched the glass jars and shoved them into the pocket of his hoodie, making sure they were securely nestled inside. He pocketed his keys and got out of the car.
Crickets and cicadas greeted him as he made his way toward the recycling plant, and the waxing moon materialized on the horizon, opposite the setting sun. He quickly scanned the property, looking for reassurance that it was indeed closed up for the night. Apart from the dim lights illuminating the fenced-off area in the back, it was completely shrouded in darkness.
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