“Well, now or never,” he muttered. He pulled his coat on, because what he needed to do, before he could concentrate on getting community support for this project, was have a heart to heart with Carrie. He dialed his phone, and Jack answered on the first ring.
“Could I borrow your truck again? I have to run into town.”
“Was wondering when you’d ask. Hope the reason is my daughter.” Jack didn’t give anything away in his tone.
Ben had to smile. He wondered if Carrie understood the sacrifices Jack had made for her. Maybe not, but he hoped that one day that Carrie and her dad could sit down face to face and have the talk they both needed. “Yes, I need to see Carrie.”
“Then absolutely. Keys are in the truck. Help yourself.”
“Thanks, Jack.”
The man had already hung up, and Ben sensed that his next conversation with Carrie might be their hardest yet. As he pulled the door closed and started walking, he anticipated her fire—as well as the enjoyment he would take in calming her down.
Chapter Twenty-Three
“Carrie, how many days are you working this week?” Rex started across the small office, which was situated at the back of the community hall. Carrie was on the old laptop at one of the long wooden tables. Rex had thick, dark, shaggy hair and wore faded blue jeans that hung low from his large midsection.
“I’m putting in three this week, if that’s all right. I won’t go over twenty hours.”
“We’d pay you for more if we could, but we don’t have that much funding,” he said, stopping in front of the table and just watching her. She stopped typing and saved the changes she’d made to the organization’s website, which was meant to keep all members of the environmental group up to date on the details of the project they were trying to put a stop to.
“I appreciate what you pay me,” she said. “I know there isn’t much. Besides, I believe in the cause.” She smiled up at Rex, but he wasn’t smiling back. He obviously had something on his mind.
“Heard you've been seeing the oil guy,” he said. It wasn’t a question, more of an accusation—or that was how it sounded to her. She felt the hairs lift up on the back of her neck.
“Yeah, we went out for dinner, but I’m not sure how that’s anyone’s business.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you? Come on, Carrie. You leap from one thing to the other. First you were furious he was here, and the next thing you’re cozying up to him and he’s staying at your dad’s place. The elders and members of the board are concerned your judgment may be clouded.”
This wasn’t a direction she wanted this to go. The last thing she wanted was people questioning her reasoning. She’d been harder on Ben than anyone else. “Are you questioning my loyalty?” she asked. It stung, of course, because as she stared up into the dark brown eyes staring back at her, he didn’t have to confirm her worst fear. She couldn’t believe it. How could he say that after all of the unpaid hours she’d put in to help this group get the justice they sought, to keep the oil company from desecrating any part of this land? Worse, he wasn’t even embarrassed to voice his accusations.
“Carrie, I’m not playing any games with you. You want to work here, you decide who’s side you’re on. This community cannot have someone in such a delicate position in bed with the enemy—so to speak. There’s confidentiality to consider, and we don’t want to worry about what information you might share with the oilman that could hurt us.”
“I would never—” She slammed her palms on the table, and then her cell phone rang. She pulled it out and looked at the caller ID. “I have to take this,” she said. She didn’t look up at Rex as she answered the call, but she could feel him staring down at her. “Hi, what’s up?”
“Carrie, got some information for you.”
It was her contact. She’d eagerly awaited his calls before today, the man who had tipped her off about Ben’s arrival and had encouraged her to arrange a welcome he wouldn’t soon forget. Right now, she wished she could hang up and never hear from him again.
“Shoot. What do you have?” She covered the mouthpiece with her hand and whispered to Rex, “It’s our oil company snitch.”
Rex nodded and seemed pleased.
“I’m sending you an email with documents detailing that the manufacturer’s reports are fraudulent. Ben Wilde falsified those reports, and the information he passed along to the oil commission is false. He’s using second-grade piping, and instead of ordering from the manufacturer outlined in his original report to Congress, he subcontracted out to China at half the cost and pocketed the difference. As well, the x-ray equipment is defective and does not perform as stated.”
Carrie had to shut her eyes. The pit of her stomach bottomed out, and she was fighting a despair she hadn’t felt since her dad and Alice had gotten married. She wanted to close her phone and find a corner to crawl into and weep. Her throat was so thick that it started to throb while she fought back the sting of tears. She blinked rapidly and cleared her throat again. “Anything else?” she asked. She hated the prick she was talking to and wished right now that she’d never heard from him or had this job. And Ben…she hated him most of all. He’d done such a convincing job of lying to her, and she’d slept with him.
“Check your inbox. All the information you need to put an end to the pipeline project is there. KKO will lose their support. This is the ammunition you’ve been looking for.”
She could hear tapping on the other end of the phone, and right now was the first time she wondered who this guy really was and what was in it for him. “So, Rick, tell me, what do you get out of killing this deal?”
There was silence on the other end for what felt like an eternity. “Does it matter, really?” he replied.
Maybe not, but she needed some answers to help understand why she’d just had the rug pulled out from under her again. Why was life persistently flipping her the middle finger? “Just call it curiosity,” she said, feeling every ounce of fight go out of her.
“Have a good day, Carrie,” came the reply. Then the line went dead.
Carrie pressed her eyelids closed over the burning. When she opened them, she didn’t miss the intense expression on Rex’s face. Had he heard?
“Carrie?” Rex asked. Even though she could see his concern, she didn’t care. Right now, she felt nothing but numbness, hate, and betrayal.
She clicked open her inbox and easily found the email addressed to her, as well as all of the attached documents. The sender was the same anonymous email account. She clicked the attachments and then scraped back her wooden chair with the steel legs. “Here’s everything you need: documents, evidence that Ben Wilde lied, enough to shut down this project.” She stepped away from the computer, holding her arms around her middle as if somehow that would diminish the hurt that was thumping in her stomach and her chest. She felt as if she’d been kicked over and over.
“Carrie, we need to talk,” came a voice from the doorway. She couldn’t believe Ben had the nerve to just walk in here as if he’d done nothing wrong, as if he hadn’t just ripped her entire world apart! He stopped and frowned. “Are you okay?”
She didn’t think. She slapped him hard across the face and then screamed, launching herself at his chest, pounding her fists at him over and over. She wanted to hurt him, make him feel the same pain she did. “You son of a bitch, I hate you!”
He grabbed her, holding her with his arms, trapping her hands so she couldn’t hit him again.
“Carrie, stop it!” Rex called out in a strong voice, one he didn’t have to raise to get his point across. “Mr. Wilde, let her go.”
“No, not until I get some answers!” Ben said. “Are you going to calm down?”
She couldn’t look at him. She stared at the dark leather of his coat, the scent still turning her legs to jelly because of what he’d done, what they’d shared so intimately. She didn’t think she could trust her own common sense.
“I’ll let you go on one condition: You’re no
t going to hit me again,” Ben said.
She couldn’t speak, so she forced herself to nod. She needed to get away from him, to get out of here. He let her go, and she stepped back, one step then another. She felt Rex reach out and touch her arm, but she shrugged him off. She didn’t want anyone to touch her right now, not when she was so numb that she felt raw.
“It appears, Mr. Wilde, that you’ve been lying to us,” Rex said. He actually slid the laptop around until the screen faced Ben.
Carrie took in the confusion in Ben’s expression. Even his eyes were screaming that he didn’t know what the hell they were talking about, and he had the nerve to look at her as if she was the wrongdoer here. He stepped up to the computer, and she could see him stiffen. He cursed under his breath.
She didn’t want to look at him, but her damn body just couldn’t help itself. She turned toward him, and what she saw when he stood up was a man who had paled, a bright red handprint across his cheek. He was shaking his head as he took one step toward her.
“I want to know where you got this from,” he said.
“So you’re not even going to deny that you lied to us? You used my father—you used me!”
He stepped closer and stared at her with a hardness she’d never seen before. “After everything between us, Carrie, you honestly believe that?” He jabbed his hand over to her computer.
“There is no us,” she said. “Whatever happened was meaningless. I don’t ever want to see you again.”
The moment she said it, she wished she hadn’t, even though she wanted to hurt him as badly as he’d hurt her. She wanted to see the same raw pain in him that was now clawing at her insides. Instead, he seemed to shut down, hiding everything as he stared at her with an expression so cold she couldn’t make it out.
“I see,” he said, and he shoved his hands in his pockets and walked out the door.
That was when her first tear fell.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Ben didn’t know what to make of what he’d read on that computer. Everything had his signature, his name, as if he’d masterminded a multimillion-dollar scam and funneled the profits to himself. His head was spinning with anger, confusion, and hurt. How could Carrie automatically believe he could do something like this? He needed to talk to her, but now wasn’t the time. Once he got a hold of those documents and showed her the truth, he could set everything straight—but then what?
The fact was that she hadn’t even given him a chance to explain, to talk to him. That didn’t bode well for any kind of relationship. There had to be trust. It always came down to a matter of trust. She had reacted, jumping to conclusions without seeing all the sides, all the evidence. She’d done the same thing to her dad and Alice. First things first, he needed to get a hold of those damn documents and go through them. There had to be an easy explanation to show that they were false, and he intended to get to the bottom of it.
Ben parked the truck in front of Jack and Alice’s. He’d just turned off the engine and climbed out when Jack came out of the house. Alice was behind him, and Ben could tell by the way she touched Jack’s arm and looked to him that she was worried about something. He didn’t need to ask to understand: News had traveled.
Ben stopped at the foot of the stairs, taking in the hard expression on Jack’s face. The man hid everything and kept every emotion locked inside himself, as well. He was the first man Ben had ever met that he couldn’t read.
“You better come on in here,” Jack said. “You’re on the news.”
He could feel a stinging in his face as he tried to register what Jack was saying. “What?”
Alice was shaking her head, leaning around Jack. “Ben, I don’t know what’s going on, but—”
“Alice,” Jack said. He waved Ben up the stairs.
Ben wasn’t a coward, but he didn’t like walking into anything he didn’t have a good understanding of. Right now, he felt absolutely blindsided. Jack held the door, and Alice’s expression was nothing but uncertainty. She was wringing her hands together.
Ben followed Jack inside, where he was led to the television. It was on the news channel, and for the second time that day, it seemed as if the rug had been yanked out from under him. He stared at the screen, at the face of the woman whose virginity he had taken that morning. He blinked, watching, listening, as she held up documents he could only assume were the ones he had seen, telling reporters how Ben Wilde had tried to deceive the community and members of Congress, the American people. What had his blood running cold was the familiar photo plastered in the corner, a different headline running under it now: Ben Wilde under federal investigation for breach of trust.
He was cold, speechless. No one in the room said anything. Suddenly, the news camera zoomed out and switched over to a flurry of reporters dogging Peter Stillwell as he walked up the steps of the KKO office. He was shaking his head, his expression pure fury. One of the reporters shouted, “Mr. Stillwell, tell us, please, were you complicit in working with Ben Wilde to deceive the American public?”
Security guards appeared at the front doors, holding the reporters back, and Peter was shaking his head as a microphone was jammed in front of his face.
“Whatever Mr. Wilde did was without the knowledge of this office or myself!” he said. “I have no further comments.” He then moved through the front doors, security pulling them closed behind him and locking out the press.
For the first time in his life, Ben felt as if he was on the outside, looking in. It was like an out-of-body experience, because Peter Stillwell had done the one thing Ben had never believed he would do--he had hung him out to dry.
He heard someone clear their throat, but he wasn’t sure if it had been Jack or Alice. He was mesmerized by the circus playing out in front of him. Then the sound was turned down, and Ben didn’t want to look at Jack, because he knew the man’s next words would likely be a demand for him to get out.
“Whatever’s going on, Ben, I’d say someone doesn’t like you. You made an enemy somewhere,” Jack said. He cleared his throat again and tossed the TV remote on the square leather ottoman.
Ben looked over at him. He didn’t open his mouth to explain anything—he couldn’t.
“I read people well, too, Ben Wilde. I’m going to ask you one question: Did you do this?”
Ben could feel the heat burning his face. His anger was spiraling to a point where he wondered whether his head would simply blow off. He ground his teeth and bit out the word: “No.”
Jack reached over and squeezed his shoulder. “Didn’t think so.”
Ben couldn’t have been more shocked. “How do you know I didn’t do what they said?”
“This project was too good to be true, too clean, and you’re too honest,” Jack replied. He patted Ben’s shoulder. “You need to find out who set you up, but I’d start with who has the most to gain by getting you out of the company—and who has the resources to pull this off.”
“You sound like a man with experience,” Ben said. Maybe this was another one of Jack’s layers being pulled away. He watched Ben with a wisdom that could only have come from seeing things done and understanding the dirtier side of the oil business. Ben wished Jack would just be frank and spit it out.
“When you’ve done some of the things I have, in an industry that runs the world, then you understand nothing is as it seems. You always need an exit strategy, my friend, to cover your ass. I hope to hell you have one.”
Ben couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Yeah, he had things he’d never keep at the office, things not even Verna was aware of, but until he knew with absolute certainty who’d done what, he couldn’t play that hand.
“Yeah, I can see you thinking,” Jack said. “Good. Right now, the name Ben Wilde is being broadcasted worldwide. You’re a scapegoat, and if you think you can clear your name, you’re wrong. You’ve already been convicted, and people will remember.” He patted Ben’s shoulder again. “Make your play, Ben, and let me know if you need any help.”
Ben swallowed the thick lump in his throat and started for the door. He stopped in front of Alice, who was twisting the apron she wore in her hands. “Don’t let Carrie push you away anymore,” he said. “She’s just afraid.”
Alice patted his arm. “Take care, Ben.”
He walked out the door, taking a deep breath of the midday air as the wind stirred from the south. It was cool and disturbing, and he started walking back to his cabin to pack up everything he had.
Chapter Twenty-Five
“Thanks for coming to get me,” Ben said. He didn’t have to look at his brother to know he’d seen the news. Logan, a sheriff in McKay, was deep, moody at times, and intense, but he was Ben’s brother, and old habits die hard. When the shit hit the fan and he was backed into a corner, the first and only person Ben wanted to call was Logan. Ever since they were young, Logan had been the one constant for him.
“Glad you called. How’d you get to the airport?” Logan asked from behind the wheel of his older Jeep. His tan shirtsleeves were rolled up past his elbows, his sheriff’s badge was pinned to his shirtfront, and a ball cap sat on his head. The Jeep purred, and Ben wondered whether the thing was now held together with wires and superglue. It ran, though not quietly or smoothly, and Ben knew that was really all Logan cared about, considering he was far from flush with money. He was a soldier, or used to be, living on next to nothing. After nearly giving his life for his country in an encounter with a roadside bomb, he had earned a medical discharge, and he had been left with a pieced-together leg and PTSD flashbacks that only Ben and Logan’s wife, Julia, knew about.
“The man who owned the place where I was staying, Jack Richardson, got me to Portland. I still can’t believe I got a flight to Ketchum—the last seat.” Ben had had to pay double, but it had been worth it to fly in to the closest airport to McKay.
A Matter of Trust Page 10