Chapter Three
“What do you mean you’re not doing the Jane Doe story?” Tim White sat in his office at the Tribune, glaring at Elizabeth. “Is she just not talking?”
“No. She gave me the interview.” Tim was talking about Robin Platt, the woman who’d accused Bruce of attempted rape. Like all media outlets, the Tribune wasn’t releasing the woman’s real name. Around the newsroom, she was simply known as “Jane Doe.”
“Then I don’t understand. What’s the problem here?”
“I can’t write it, Tim. There’s no way I would do that to Bruce. Never. Even if I were a hundred percent sure, I could never be part of that betrayal. It was hubris that involved me from the beginning. I thought I was going to save him, but I didn’t. I only made it worse.”
It was one thing to help the girl, and she had, but writing a story that pronounced to the world that Bruce was a rapist, guilty or not, would never come from Elizabeth.
Tim sighed and put his head in his hands.
“Elizabeth, you’re a journalist. You’re not supposed to take sides, and you write the story, no matter what.”
“I’m not going to talk about it anymore.”
“You leave me no choice.”
“I know. Whatever I’ve done up till now, I would never do again. I regret it so deeply. I got involved to help Bruce and I turned out to be the one who destroyed him.”
“You did what you had to do, Elizabeth. Plus, it’s obvious he’s guilty. He ran! We know he’s in France. We just don’t know where. But you do, don’t you?”
Of course she knew. He had houses all over the world, but she suspected he had gone to his villa in the south of France. She’d told Annie Whitman about his house there and she was recently able to confirm that’s where he was. But there was no way she was going to tell Tim.
“Clearly, you’ve lost all objectivity—if you had any to begin with,” Tim said. “What was I thinking, putting his girlfriend on this story? My mistake.”
Girlfriend? Hardly. Ex-girlfriend, more like it. But Elizabeth didn’t correct him.
Tim’s tone softened a little. “I like you. You know I do. You’re a very good writer, but …”
“I know, and you’re a very good boss, too.”
Tim genuinely liked Elizabeth. She was a smart, idealistic young reporter, the kind who got into the business because she thought she could make a difference. He hated to see her go.
“Don’t make me fire you, Elizabeth. It won’t look good on your résumé. And of course, then I can’t give you a recommendation.”
“Okay. I quit, then.” The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. It was the only way out. “Thanks, Tim, for everything.”
Even though it was her choice, Elizabeth felt a sharp stab of disappointment. She loved her job. The idea of quitting after she’d worked so hard to get here felt like she was giving up on a lifelong dream.
She realized she’d been holding on to the naïve hope that despite everything, she could keep her job. Okay, Tim might move her back to beginner stuff like suburban city councils or restaurant openings, a kind of Siberia of reporting, but she could see that wasn’t possible.
He was a good guy, but he wasn’t going to budge, and neither could she.
“Maybe I should give you a couple of days to think about it.” Tim made one last offer.
“No, but thanks anyway.” Elizabeth had made up her mind. There was no going back.
Elizabeth left Tim’s office and went straight to her desk. She could feel everyone’s eyes on her. Without looking up, she began packing her things.
“You okay?” That came from Andy, the only one brave enough to ask.
“I’m not going to do the Jane Doe story.” Elizabeth felt a rough ball of tears forming in her throat. She swallowed hard.
“I get it,” he said.
And she knew he did and felt, in the middle of all this shit, she was doing the right thing.
It felt funny to be on the other side. How many times had she been cavalier with other people’s lives? How often had she thought, “Hey, I’m a reporter and it’s my job,” when she’d run with a story that was sure to destroy people’s lives? Now she knew how those people felt: very human and vulnerable. Bleeding.
Elizabeth grabbed her purse, her office plant, and her family pictures: those of her sister, brother, nephew, and niece. She looked at their smiling faces and felt like crying.
Andy gave her a pat on the shoulder as she walked by. He’d had the Bruce story first, and he’d no doubt get it back now. He’d be after the Jane Doe/Robin Platt interview the minute she left. Maybe he would get it, too. Maybe Elizabeth couldn’t really protect Bruce, no matter how hard she tried.
But at least the story wouldn’t have her name on it. That was something. And maybe he would see how toxic the story really was now that she’d given it up. Maybe it would make a difference.
Elizabeth climbed into her car and drove aimlessly. A black Porsche zipped across the intersection and she instantly thought of Bruce. Her eyes went to the license plate, but of course, it wasn’t him. He was long gone.
The tears slid down her cheeks and a sob broke free. Now she’d lost everything.
Over the next few weeks, Elizabeth hung out at her parents’ house, the house where she’d grown up, and wondered what she was going to do. As she walked the rooms of her childhood home, she thought, It used to be so easy. Sure, high school seemed like a killer—each new day brought some new drama—but in hindsight, all of her problems that had seemed so big then were really pretty small.
As she moped around the house, she made a decision. She wasn’t just going to sit and wait for the Robin interview to come out. Andy was a good investigator. He would take his time getting the story. She could count on at least two weeks before it hit the paper. In that time, she was going to do what she could to help Bruce. Just because she’d lost her job didn’t mean she’d lost her skills as a reporter.
Maybe it wouldn’t make a difference to their relationship, but still she desperately wanted somehow to save him. If his name could be cleared, she was the one who had to do it. And she wouldn’t stop trying until she knew for sure it was impossible.
Elizabeth decided that no matter what, she was going to keep digging until she found the truth. And she just prayed it would be Bruce’s innocence.
Either way, she wasn’t going to give up.
She went back to her first suspicions that Rick Warner, owner of Warner Gas, must somehow be behind Robin and the allegations against Bruce. Ever since Bruce had outfoxed Warner, snagging some of the valuable drilling land right from under his nose in order to turn it into an eco-friendly wind farm, Rick had been his sworn enemy. Elizabeth toyed with the idea of trying to go undercover at Warner Gas headquarters in San Diego to see if she could dig up a link between Robin Platt and Rick Warner, but she knew it would never work. Rick knew who she was, and so did much of his staff. She’d thought about sending someone else from the Tribune, but she wasn’t sure she could trust anyone else. She needed someone who could blend in and someone she could trust to do what really needed to be done.
Then it hit her. She knew the perfect person she could trust and he was family now: her new brother-in-law, Aaron Dallas. He and her brother, Steven, with Emma in tow, had snuck off to New York the week before to exchange their vows officially. Even if California wouldn’t recognize them, the couple had decided, spontaneously, to make the vows to each other, hoping that one day California would change the law.
The rest of the family was a little put out about not being there for the wedding, but both Steven and Aaron said it was just a spontaneous decision they’d made when they were visiting New York.
Elizabeth called Aaron and arranged to meet in an hour at Zee, the new brick-oven pizza place downtown.
Elizabeth parked her car in front of the restaurant and found Aaron waiting for her.
“Hey, brother-in-law, congratulations,” she said, huggin
g him, since it was the first time she’d seen him since the wedding. He returned the hug. “You took us all by surprise.”
“It was completely spur-of-the-moment,” Aaron admitted. “I’m not sure we even really thought about it. But I had to fly there to visit a client who wanted me to design a hotel for him, and then Steven said he wanted to come along and bring Emma, and then, next thing I knew, we’re all at the courthouse saying ‘I do’s.’” Aaron took a sip of his water. “You know, since Emma was kidnapped, it just sort of put things in perspective. We’ve been talking about getting married forever, but Steven didn’t want another year to drag on while we planned a ceremony or waited for California to sort out the politics. He just wanted it done. Like he said, why wait?”
“So you don’t incur Alice Wakefield’s wrath, that’s why.” Elizabeth chuckled. “She will get her reception, anyway, one way or another.”
“I know, I know.” Aaron held up his hands in surrender. “I hear there are already plans in the works. So…I hate to be nosy, but why all the secrecy with the lunch?”
Elizabeth took a deep breath. “I have a favor to ask you. It’s kind of a big one.”
“For you? Anything.”
“How do you feel about going undercover?”
Chapter Four
Aaron couldn’t help thinking the Mission Impossible theme should’ve been playing in the background when he went to the Warner Gas headquarters in San Diego. He felt a little like a secret agent armed with the cover story Elizabeth gave him: He was an architecture student from UCLA doing research for his thesis. Warner Gas, after all, was housed in one of the most distinctive new glass high-rises in San Diego.
His mission, as undercover spy, was to find out if Robin Platt was working for Rick Warner.
Aaron wasn’t sure if he could do it, and he felt a cold sweat trickle down his back as he told the lie to the receptionist sitting behind the front desk. Spying looked much easier on TV.
But to his surprise, she bought it easily. Apparently, he hadn’t been the only graduate student interested in touring the offices and looking at the plans.
Nola the receptionist was stylishly dressed and older than he was. He put her age somewhere near forty. She wore a Missoni scarf around her neck. “I love that scarf,” Aaron said. “Missoni, right?”
“Missoni, yes!”
“Looks good on you.”
“Thanks.” The receptionist beamed under the praise.
“I’m Aaron, by the way,” he said.
“I’m Nola,” she said. “Nice to meet you.”
Aaron knew he was making a necessary friend.
“You, too. So I’m not the only graduate student who’s asked about the building?”
“Definitely not. Would you like a tour?”
“I’d love one.”
“Mr. Warner commissioned the building himself,” Nola said as she led him back through the offices. Aaron looked out of the impressive, top-floor view. “He wanted to make an impression on the skyline.”
And apparently on all the rivers and lakes, too, Aaron thought. Warner’s controversial drilling techniques had environmentalists in an uproar. It was one of the main reasons Bruce’s company, Patman Social Impact, had bought the land Warner had wanted to use for more fracking.
Aaron himself was a green architect, and he appreciated what Bruce’s company was trying to do. Rick Warner’s building, he noticed, wasn’t green in any way. Made of no recycled materials and with a pretty big carbon footprint, it paid a steep price for being pretty, he thought.
Nola finished the tour quickly. “And if you want to look at blueprints, they’re in this file,” she said, nodding toward a nearby cube filled with file cabinets.
“That would be great.”
Aaron sat down and began looking through the designs. He had to play this slowly. Too soon to ask about Robin, so for now he just had to do some digging on his own. After the first day all he could find were copies of design plans. He had to be patient, to keep digging. And to stay very friendly with Nola, compliment by compliment.
The next day, he got a break.
“I’m off to lunch,” Nola said. “Need anything?”
Aaron looked up from the plans and glanced over at the receptionist’s computer in her nearby cube. “Actually, could I use your computer to send a quick e-mail? It won’t take long.”
“No problem,” Nola said, and then with a wink: “Are we talking girlfriend?”
“You got me.” Aaron smiled.
Nola typed in her password, unlocking the PC, stood up, and grabbed her purse. “You can tell me all about it for dessert.”
Nola headed toward the elevators, happy with her new friend.
As Aaron slid into Nola’s chair he gave a quick look around the office and saw that it had emptied out for lunch almost entirely. Now was his chance.
He felt a little like Tom Cruise hanging from the ceiling as he looked through the company directory, searching for anybody whose description fit Robin Platt. Some, not all the employees, had photos.
Aaron had a picture of Robin on his phone that Elizabeth had sent. She was somewhat pretty with blond hair and fair skin.
A quick search of the employee records brought up no Robin Platt, but he did find a Rose Pally who would be the right age and seemed like she might be a fit. She would’ve been working for Warner Gas right before the allegations against Bruce had surfaced. And the initials, R.P., were the same as Robin Platt’s. Aaron searched every company newsletter and internal Web page for a picture of Rose Pally, but he couldn’t find one.
He did quick Facebook and Google searches, too, but came up empty. None of the Rose Pallys he found lived in San Diego.
After a quick search of her employment records, he found that Rose Pally was on an extended paid leave that had started a week before Bruce had allegedly attacked Robin Platt at that bar. That fit, too.
Aaron wasn’t sure it was anything, but he thought there was enough of something to make copies of the records and e-mail them to Elizabeth.
BINGO! Elizabeth wrote back almost instantly. THIS IS WHAT I’VE BEEN LOOKING FOR!
With the Wakefield seniors still away, Elizabeth had the house to herself. What Aaron had sent her was a bonanza. She sped through the files, feeling a little giddy with excitement. This was it, the break in the case she was dreaming of. Except for the missing picture.
Aaron couldn’t find one, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t one to be found. Elizabeth’s reporter’s instincts told her she was on to something big.
It was a double-edged sword. If Robin had lied and Bruce really was innocent, she’d betrayed him. How could she not have trusted him? He’d loved her as no one else ever had, and she thought she loved him as well, but when push came to shove, she’d let go. Too easily.
No matter what it looked like, no matter how it seemed, truth was on Robin’s side. She should have closed her eyes and gone with Bruce. That’s what people who love do. Screw the facts.
Now she would.
And pray it wasn’t too late.
Elizabeth grabbed her phone and speed-dialed her sister.
“Tell me you have something for Bruce,” Jessica said.
“Maybe.”
She filled Jessica in on the details and waited.
“Yes! It’s got to be her,” Jessica said, excitement in her voice. “It’s too much of a coincidence. Robin Platt must actually be Rose Pally. Don’t you see this is exactly how Warner would work? Lizzie, this is Bruce’s big break. I gotta tell him.”
“You can’t! And you have to promise me that when you can, you won’t tell him I was the one who found her. He can’t know I’m involved.”
“But Elizabeth…”
“Promise me, Jess. I don’t want him to know I’m working on this.”
“Why? Liz, you know he still loves you. He’d want to know you were doing this for him. He’d also want to know you gave up your job for him. That’s a big deal.”
“N
o! Don’t.” Elizabeth thought about the look of hurt and betrayal in Bruce’s eyes the last time she’d seen him. “No, I don’t think he would want to know,” she said softly. “I don’t think he wants to know anything about me anymore.”
Jessica let out a long, frustrated sigh. “I think you’re wrong, but I’ll do whatever you want. If it turns out that she really is connected to Warner, she could be dangerous.”
“Right now it’s nothing until I can get Rose Pally’s picture.”
“Still, you have to be careful.”
“I will be,” Elizabeth promised, but she really didn’t care how dangerous Robin could be. All she cared about was finding out what had really happened. She needed the truth, whatever the cost. And maybe she’d already paid the price by losing Bruce forever.
“Oh, no,” Jessica said suddenly, sounding distracted.
“What is it?”
“Sorry, it’s Lila,” Jessica said. “There’s a story that just broke on TMZ, and E! News is running it now. Oh, boy. This is what I was afraid of. I told her this would happen.”
“What is it?”
“It’s trouble,” Jessica said.
Chapter Five
All morning, Lila felt sick to her stomach, and she didn’t know why until she turned on her television.
Her shriek could be heard throughout her nine-bedroom mansion and probably down the street.
“An anonymous source sold her story to TMZ with what she says is proof that Lila Fowler, True Housewives star, faked her pregnancy and her miscarriage on the popular reality show.” The news anchor on E! swept back her long blond hair and delivered the devastating news with just the hint of a smile.
Lila felt her bedroom spin. Suddenly, she felt dizzy. Her hairstylist and makeup artist sat frozen next to her, their eyes glued to the TV set. Lila slunk out of her chair and ran to the bathroom, where she locked the door behind her.
Think, she told herself in a panic. Think.
Downstairs, the True Housewives cameramen were setting up in her kitchen. She heard the hustle and bustle of giant light fixtures and sound booms moving in and out.
Secrets and Seductions Page 2