Expose

by Saranne Dawson

  “I can’t forget about it.”

  Sam got up, then bent down to kiss her softly. “Okay. I know you can’t.”

  “How do you do it?” she asked rather plaintively.

  Sam shrugged. “I can’t answer that any more than you can tell me why you can’t let go of your work. We’re different, that’s all. But that doesn’t mean we aren’t right for each other.”

  He kissed her again and went into the cabin. Kate pressed her fingers to her lips. Could it really be this easy after all? Hour by hour, day by day, she was beginning to think that it could—that when this was over, they could just pick up and go on as though the past three years had never happened.

  There’s a danger in that kind of thinking, she told herself. But at the moment, she couldn’t quite decide what it was.

  “TONY DISALVD WAS HELPING me with a story I’m doing on boot camps. I chose New Leaf because of its success rate, and I was trying to figure out what they’re doing differently. Tony was curious about it, too. He’d worked at another camp before he came here, and they didn’t have the success that New Leaf does.

  “He called me the night before he disappeared and left a message asking me to call him back. But by the time I did, he was gone.”

  The detective’s expression gave nothing away. “Are you suggesting that something’s going on up there and DiSalvo found out about it?”

  “I think you have to consider that possibility,” Kate stated firmly, then hurried on. “I got to know Tony well enough to know that he wasn’t the type to just take off.”

  “People at the camp said he was in trouble at work and was also having an affair with another counselor.”

  “I don’t believe that. Have you talked to this other counselor?”

  “She left a few weeks ago—moved back to Massachusetts as far as the people at the camp know. They didn’t have a forwarding address.”

  “Don’t you think that’s a little too convenient?”

  “Maybe. But I also think it’s possible that he followed her.”

  “Then why would his car be at Dulles? If he flew to Massachusetts, he’d fly out of National, not Dulles.”

  The detective stared at her. “Ms. Stevens, what aren’t you telling me?”

  “Something is going on at New Leaf,” Kate asserted. “I don’t know what it is or I would tell you. But something is wrong there. I trust my instincts.” She paused for a moment. “You must have to trust your instincts when you’re investigating something.”

  Their eyes met and held for a few seconds before his gaze slid away. “Yeah, you’re right. But my instincts aren’t telling me anything at this point.”

  “Then I’d suggest that you interview some of Tony’s coworkers again. He told me that he wasn’t the only one who suspected something.”

  “The camp has never caused us any trouble, and it provides work for a lot of local people.”

  “Does that mean you’re prepared to overlook a possible murder?” Kate challenged.

  He met her gaze steadily. “No, it doesn’t. But it means that I have to be careful.”

  “Talk to the other counselors,” she urged again.

  Once more, their eyes locked, and Kate felt something unspoken pass between them. She couldn’t divulge her conversation with the other counselor, and he would know that. But she sensed that he knew what she was telling him, and she also guessed that the counselor she’d met in Frederick would break down pretty easily under questioning.

  “I will,” he said after a moment. “And you’ll let me know if you find out anything.”

  Kate nodded, even though the chances of her learning anything before he did seemed minimal at best.

  SAM PUT DOWN THE PHONE and swore. “The Ferret did it! He found a connection!”

  “Between what?” At this point, Kate’s brain was on overload, trying to keep up with their increasingly crazy story.

  “Between New Leaf and Newbury.” Sam shook his head. “You did it, Kate. You managed to take on two different stories that are merging into one big scandal.”

  “What’s the connection?” Kate asked excitedly.

  “The president of the board of New Leaf is a regular partner of one of the contributors to Newbury’s PAC. They’ve worked together on a number of business deals over the years and their current deal is a financing package for a small pharmaceutical company that’s in trouble. They’re working it through an offshore corporation they set up two years ago.”

  Kate sank onto the sofa, her mind spinning. It was the connection they’d been looking for and The Ferret was the one who’d found it. That rankled—at least until she remembered what Sam had said. Computers can only find something when they’re pointed in the right direction.

  The quiet of the house was broken by a sound upstairs. “He’s faxing the information to us,” Sam explained.

  “I don’t have a fax,” she said, frowning. She’d been hoping to get one.

  “I bought one yesterday, and I called the phone company to have another line put in. That’ll take a couple of days.”

  Kate thought that maybe she should protest and opened her mouth to do just that. Then she closed it again. It was far too late for her to be protesting Sam’s reentry into her life—and besides, she didn’t want to anyway. If it hadn’t been for his startling announcement, she would have wondered at her sudden acceptance. Or maybe it wasn’t so sudden after all. Maybe she just hadn’t noticed, preoccupied as she was with the story.

  Instead, she sat there, thinking, while at the same time wondering vaguely why Sam hadn’t already suggested a course of action. That wasn’t like him. He’d always been overly helpful in the past.

  “I think we should go talk to the New Leaf board president. It’s time to take some risks.”

  Sam smiled. “like we haven’t already taken some risks?”

  She laughed. “I meant professional risks.” Then she quickly grew serious again. “I’m worried about those kids, Sam—the ones from the farmhouse. If I’m right and those kids represent the failure of whatever they’re doing, they might decide to get rid of them—especially if they think the police are onto them.”

  “Or that we’re onto them,” Sam added, nodding. “The police are only looking at Tony’s disappearance at this point.”

  She didn’t want to hear that she could be indirectly responsible for something happening to those kids. Or something more happening to them. She was convinced that they were the victims of some sort of experimentation.

  “Perhaps the best thing we can do to save them is to let this New Leaf president know that we’re aware of them. What do you think?” Kate asked.

  “If he’s in on this, then he already knows. Your friend with the pickup knows we were at the farmhouse. But you’re right. In cases like this, the best protection a victim can have is that a couple of nosy journalists are aware of the wrongdoers.”

  Sam went upstairs and got the material The Ferret had faxed and they sat poring over it until Kate’s head began to ache. “I hate this stuff,” she muttered.

  “This ‘stuff’ could be the basis for the biggest story you’ve ever had,” Sam reminded her gently.

  She stared balefully at the papers. “The world has just gotten too complicated.”

  “They’ve covered their tracks well,” Sam observed. “Look at the crazy set of circumstances it took for you to close in on them.”

  He was right. Gossip about the death of a congressional intern, curiosity about New Leaf’s success rate and a chance meeting with a counselor who shared her curiosity, and Charles Scofield, whose name she’d come across purely by accident while she was snooping.

  She sighed. “What really bothers me is that it all happened by sheer luck, not through serious investigative reporting.”

  Sam wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “That’s what it’s all about, Kate. Talk to any reporter who gets a great story and that’s exactly what you’ll hear. It was mostly blind, stumbling luck. If they’re hone
st about it, that is. What’s important is that you made the connections, that you kept after it.”

  She kissed him. “Thanks, Sam. I’m sorry that I tried to keep you out of this.”

  “Then I’ve won half the battle,” Sam replied, pulling her to him and deepening the kiss until they both were tempted to forget how close they might be to resolving the mystery. They drew apart reluctantly. “Do you want to call the board president first, or just drive out to Middleburg?” Sam asked.

  “Let’s not give him any advance warning. Besides, we could have dinner at that inn on the way.”

  Sam nodded, pleased at the suggestion. They’d eaten there the night Sam had proposed to her, on the way back from a weekend at his grandfather’s horse farm. He wondered if it might be the scene of a second proposal, then decided not to push his luck. Things were going his way. He could wait.

  Chapter Twelve

  Expressions seemed to chase each other across her face in the soft light. Sam could never understand why she thought she wasn’t beautiful. When he tried to be objective about it, he knew she wasn’t a drop-dead beauty. But she had something that intrigued him, and part of it was the way everything she thought or felt showed on her face—especially in her eyes and around her eminently kissable mouth.

  At the moment, her mood was alternately serious and lighthearted, romantic and coolly professional—and nervous. They’d already talked about how to handle this interview. He’d suggested that he wait here while she went to see the New Leaf president, but to his surprise, she’d said she wanted him to come along.

  It’s the confidence that’s so different, he thought. During the past three years, she’d gotten out from under his shadow. For perhaps the thousandth time, he hoped that this story would prove to be all they both thought it was. Then he could make his proposals—both of them.

  “Earth to Sam,” she said teasingly, drawing him out of his thoughts of the future. He grinned at her, drawing a somewhat tremulous smile in return that told him she might be having second thoughts about making this visit. “I was just wondering what we should do if he’s not home. He could have a place in the District, or he might be away on business.”

  “Then you leave your card and a note saying that you need to speak to him as soon as possible about New Leaf.”

  “Rather than trying to reach him elsewhere?”

  Sam nodded. “It’ll be interesting to see how fast he gets back to you.”

  “I’m still worried about those kids, Sam—and how what we’re doing might affect them.”

  “We’re doing the best we can for them.”

  “I know, but…” She sighed. “Let’s go.”

  They left the inn and drove the short distance to the horse farm belonging to David Melrose, the New Leaf president. Mel-Wyn Farms was one of many in this wealthy enclave, not far, in fact, from the farm owned by Sam’s grandfather and now run by his uncle. Sam wondered aloud if his uncle might know the man.

  “He probably does,” he continued. “I think I’ll stop and call Tad before we go to see Melrose.”

  He pulled off and picked up the phone. Kate waited impatiently while Sam’s uncle apparently did most of the talking. She didn’t much care for Uncle Tad, even though he’d always treated her kindly. He was Sam’s mother’s brother. The family were old Virginia aristocracy, and while Sam’s mother was a pleasant, down-to-earth woman, Tad’s air of superiority made it harder to like him.

  Sam hung up and pulled onto the road again. “Tad knows him. He doesn’t think too much of him. Too much flash,’ is how he put it. Melrose’s wife is FFOV, a Wyndover. Apparently, it was her money that got him started. Tad says it wouldn’t surprise him a bit to learn that Melrose is into something shady—that it wouldn’t be the first time.”

  Kate’s mind slipped back to the first time she’d heard that term, FFOV. She’d had to ask Sam what it meant after Tad had used it. What it meant was “First Families of Virginia”—referring to the original plantation owners who’d settled the state. She remembered, too, how inadequate she’d felt after learning that Sam’s mother’s family were also included in that august group. It was the same weekend that Sam had first asked her to marry him, having no idea how she felt.

  As they approached the white-fenced farm, Kate’s gaze fell on the handsome sign announcing Mel-Wyn Farms and she realized that the “Wyn” part came from the name of David Melrose’s wife. Something nagged at her—a certainty that she’d heard the name Wyndover before. But she forgot about it as they drove up the long gravel driveway between freshly painted fences that marched across the rolling green land. Sleek horses grazed in the lush pastures, some with foals nuzzling at them.

  The driveway ended in a circle in front of an impressive brick house with white columns. A car she’d thought was a Rolls was parked in the circle, but Sam said it was a Bent-ley.

  “That’s his car. Tad doesn’t approve of people who drive foreign cars. He’s a Cadillac man himself.”

  Kate rolled her eyes and hurried out, prepared to do battle with New Leaf’s president. Adrenaline pumping through her veins, she was already ringing the bell beside the black lacquered double doors before Sam had even gotten out of the Porsche.

  She’d expected the door to be answered by a liveried servant, but when it opened, she knew immediately that the man who stood there must be Melrose himself. He wore a silk dress shirt, open at the neck, and gray pin-striped trousers, whose superb tailoring did its best to hide a serious case of middle-age spread. His pale gaze swept over her warily, then settled on Sam. Kate saw a dawning recognition, followed very briefly by a spurt of fear before he inquired politely if he could help them.

  “Are you Mr. Melrose?” Kate inquired in the same polite tone. “David Melrose?” When he confirmed that he was, Kate introduced herself and Sam. “I’m a reporter with the Washington Post, Mr. Melrose. I’ve been working on a story about boot camps, and I have a few questions to ask you about New Leaf.”

  “Come in,” he said with false heartiness. “I’ll be glad to help if I can. But I’m only the board president. It’s purely a volunteer position and I don’t have anything to do with the day-to-day operations. The board is mostly engaged in fund-raising.”

  He ushered them past a large and overly decorated living room, down a thickly carpeted hallway and into a mahogany-paneled study, complete with cordovan leather furniture and a huge mahogany desk. The walls were covered with large photos of horses and a glass case held numerous racing trophies.

  He gestured for them to take seats and they sat down on the leather sofa while he dropped into the big matching leather desk chair, putting the impressive desk between them. A wicked-looking dagger that was apparently a letter opener lay on the desk. Kate imagined an even more wicked-looking gun in one of the desk drawers and was glad that Sam was with her.

  Melrose frowned at Sam. “Aren’t you with CNN?”

  “Not anymore,” Sam told him. “I’m working with Kate on this story.”

  His gaze traveled back and forth between them. “I see. How can I help you?”

  Here goes, Kate thought. “I’ve been very curious about New Leaf. In fact, I first became interested in the place because its success rate is so much higher than other camps. Then I found out that a counselor at the camp was also curious about the success rate and unable to explain it. He’s since disappeared.”

  “DiSalvo was a troubled man—or so I understand,” Melrose said, adding the last after a brief pause that told her he regretted admitting that he knew about Tony.

  “So I’ve been told. But I’ve gotten to know him fairly well and we even checked with his former employer, who gave him a glowing report. Just before he disappeared, he told someone that he thought he might have figured it out. He said he planned to have some tests done.”

  “What sort of tests? I don’t understand.” Melrose was doing a fairly good job of dissembling, but not good enough, in Kate’s opinion.

  “I don’t know—yet. Are
you aware of the fact that New Leaf has sent some very troubled boys to a farmhouse in Pennsylvania, not far from the camp? The staff at New Leaf refer to it as the ‘clinic,’ but it isn’t registered with the authorities in Pennsylvania. The boys there appear to be heavily drugged.

  “Another boy, who was a graduate of New Leaf went berserk recently and was committed to a psychiatric facility in Baltimore. He’s no longer there, and the staff say that he couldn’t possibly have escaped on his own. I have reason to believe that he’s with the other boys I mentioned, but they’re no longer at the farmhouse. The place is deserted.”

  During her monologue, Melrose’s expression had gone from one of polite interest to something far more belligerent. “Exactly what are you suggesting, Ms. Stevens?”

  “I’m suggesting that something illegal is going on at New Leaf—that those kids may be being used as human guinea pigs to test some new drug. I know that you have a business partner with whom you’ve arranged financing for a pharmaceutical company called Glasser Biotech, and very soon I expect to know just what they’ve been working on.

  “Furthermore, I find it interesting that your partner sits on the board of something called the Organization for Responsible Drug Policy, which is doing some sort of study of New Leaf. He’s also a major contributor to a PAC run by Congressman Newbury, who chairs a committee that will soon be holding hearings on drug legalization.”

  Feeling very pleased with the effect she was having on him, Kate settled back on the sofa and smiled at him. “So that’s what I know at this point—except for one thing I forgot to mention. Someone has been threatening my life and I have good reason to believe that a New Leaf employee attempted to kill me.”

  “This is outrageous!” Melrose stormed, getting up from his chair and glaring at her.

  “I agree,” Kate replied calmly, nodding.

  “You can’t print accusations like that!”

  “Not yet,” she admitted. “But I’m very close to having enough facts to print something. Let me tell you what my next step is going to be. I plan to go to the licensing authorities in Maryland and tell them what I suspect. My guess is that as government bureaucrats wanting to cover their butts, they’ll agree to have tests run on the kids at New Leaf—and they’ll certainly demand an accounting for the boys I saw at that farmhouse, who are probably listed as still being residents of New Leaf.”