“Mandy is going to be pissed when she finds out you went behind her back to get time off for her,” Grady said. “Are you ready for that fight?”
“I am,” James confirmed. “I got a new shark attack video for the projector in the guesthouse. I’m going to take her out there and turn it on and when she’s distracted by her hormones, then I’m going to tell her.”
Grady barked out a hoarse laugh. “You’re pretty devious, man.”
“I know I am,” James said, turning his attention back to the boxes. “You’re right about not being able to take all of this stuff with us today, though. Let’s look at a few boxes and if we see anything with photographs or something that looks important we’ll grab it.
“Sophie can have a few boxes tonight for your surprise,” he continued. “Then you can bring her out here to go through the rest of it when you have time.”
“That sounds like a plan.”
“WELL, this looks like a righteous mess, doesn’t it?”
Sophie shook her head as she studied the lake at Stony Creek Metropark in northern Macomb County. On a normal day the lush landscape would probably appear serene. The car resting on its side in the shallow water near the shore after running through the guardrail of the overhead bridge marred that beauty today.
“It does,” said Rufus Watkins, The Daily Tribune’s photographer. Sophie and Rufus went out on stories together quite often, so they were used to the drill. “Do we know anything about the kids inside?”
“They’re being very hush-hush,” Sophie replied. “That makes me think they’re hiding something.”
“You’re a reporter,” Rufus said. “You always think people are hiding something.”
“That’s because everyone has a secret, Rufus,” Sophie said, patting his arm. “Something tells me this is going to be a big one.”
“For once, I think you’re right,” Rufus said, shifting his attention to the curious onlookers on the other side of the bridge. “This happened after dark last night and the sheriff’s department tried to close down the entire park. I heard it on the scanner. They didn’t have the jurisdiction, though, so instead they roped off this part of the lake.”
“They can probably get away with it because it’s too cold to swim,” Sophie replied. “It’s early spring. It’s too warm for ice fishing and too cold for swimming. They lucked out there.”
“They’re not talking from what I understand,” Rufus supplied. “They sent out a press release about the accident, but they didn’t identify the occupants. There has to be a reason for that.”
“I agree,” Sophie said, her expression thoughtful as she tapped her lower lip. “Do me a favor and see if you can zoom in on the license plate of the car. I know it’s underwater, but we might be able to make it out.”
Rufus nodded. “Anything else?”
“Just listen to the people talking,” Sophie instructed. “If you think anyone has legitimate information, send them in my direction.”
“What are you going to do?”
Sophie pointed toward a spot on the left side of the lake where at least eight sheriff’s deputies had their heads bent together as they discussed something. Not only were deputies present, though, but so was Macomb County’s top elected law enforcement figure, Sheriff Aaron Morgan. “I might as well start right at the top on this one.”
Rufus’ smile was rueful. “Good luck.”
“Thanks. I think I’m going to need it.”
Sophie purposely took her time as she rounded the lake, being careful not to cross the yellow police tape and never moving her gaze from the group of sheriff’s deputies. They were deep in conversation, everyone’s face reflecting grave worry. Whatever happened at Stony Creek the previous evening, it wasn’t good.
Sheriff Morgan raised his head as Sophie approached, his chest heaving when he realized who she was. He looked resigned.
“This is a private matter, ma’am,” one of the deputies said, stepping in Sophie’s path and cutting her off. “You need to turn around and head back to the park area.”
Sophie tilted her head to the side as she considered how to respond. She wasn’t fond of law enforcement. She couldn’t pretend otherwise. Her final foster home – the one that stuck – just happened to include a familiar figure in Southeastern Michigan’s mob scene. Peter Marconi was a fantastic father figure. He had no love for police, though, and he passed his disdain on to Sophie.
“I stayed away from the police tape,” Sophie said, choosing her words carefully. “I need to get a statement from Sheriff Morgan.”
“He’s not giving statements today.”
Sophie licked her lips. Peter always told her to be nice to law enforcement representatives whenever possible because causing problems for them always resulted in trouble, but this particular deputy rankled her. “So you’re not going to discuss a fatal accident on county property? That should go over well with our readers.”
It was a gamble, but Sophie couldn’t help but internally smirk when the sheriff took a step in her direction and she realized it would pay off.
“I’ve got this, Lennox,” Morgan said as he patted his deputy’s back and pointed toward the bridge. “Why don’t you meet with the accident re-creation team and be in charge of that effort.”
Deputy Lennox didn’t look convinced. In fact, he looked irritated. “Are you sure, sir? I can remove this … woman … without incident.”
“I’ll handle Ms. Lane,” Morgan said, forcing a tight smile. “We go way back. It will be fine.”
That was an understatement, Sophie mused. More than a year and a half before Aaron Morgan’s aide got caught skimming from the county coffers. In an effort to keep it quiet, he kidnapped Sophie and was intent on killing her until Grady rode to the rescue. Morgan’s relationship with Sophie had been civil – but stilted – ever since.
“Ms. Lane,” Morgan said, locking gazes with the comely brunette. “How are you today?”
“I’m fine,” Sophie replied, matching Morgan’s cold tone. “How are you?”
“I’ve been better,” Morgan admitted. “We’re not going to be releasing information today. This is a … hard … issue to deal with. We’ll have a press conference tomorrow.”
That didn’t sound like normal sheriff’s department procedure. Sophie decided to play a hunch and repeat some of the idle gossip she heard from onlookers earlier as she approached the scene.
“That’s certainly your prerogative,” Sophie said. “You do realize we have to do a story no matter what, right?”
“I do,” Morgan confirmed, nodding. “I’m afraid there weren’t any witnesses who saw the actual event, though, so you’re probably going to have trouble piecing things together. We only have helpful onlookers who rushed to the car after the fact.” Morgan looked almost gleeful when he said the words.
“Well, I can go with the rumors the woman at the foot of the bridge told me as long as I attribute them,” Sophie said. She was bluffing. She would never run with unsubstantiated rumors. Morgan didn’t know that, though, and she wanted to push him into telling the truth. “My photographer got photos of the license plate, too, so we can run that and track down the driver.”
Morgan’s face drained of color when he realized what Sophie insinuated. “You can’t do that.”
“I can do that,” Sophie argued. “In fact, I’m perfectly within my rights to do that. I’m expected to do that. I can run the license plate the moment I get back to the office.”
“Ms. Lane, this is a … delicate … situation,” Morgan challenged. “There were fatalities.”
“I figured that out myself,” Sophie said. “The front window has a big hole through it … one that looks as if a body was catapulted out because someone wasn’t wearing a seatbelt.
“Witnesses near the end of the road report that only one ambulance left the scene in any sort of hurry last evening, too,” she continued. “Three ambulances left without turning their lights on. If four emergency vehicles were called,
that means you had four victims. My guess is only one survived, although I have no idea if that’s still the case.”
“You can’t do this, Sophie,” Morgan said, adjusting his tone so it was pleading instead of smug. “This story is going to be huge.”
“And I’m going to get it,” Sophie said, refusing to back down. “The question is: Are you going to try and stand in my way? If you are, that’s going to be part of the story, too. We all know that residents aren’t going to be happy if they think you’re hiding information … again.”
“I was not hiding information before,” Morgan said, wagging a finger in Sophie’s face for emphasis. “I had no idea what was going on.”
“And yet you were the sheriff and should’ve known.” Sophie was eerily calm. She knew that threw people off their game. Peter taught her how to read people at a young age and then he taught her how to interact with certain personality types to get what she wanted. That’s what she did now. “I’m not sure your reputation can take another hit.”
Morgan blew out a frustrated sigh, resigned. He scanned the park and the assembled crime watchers as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I guess you’ve got this all figured out, huh? I don’t really have a choice.”
“You have a choice,” Sophie countered. “You just have to decide what outcome is the best for everyone involved and go from there. I will follow up my own way if it becomes necessary, though. You can count on that.”
“Fine,” Morgan muttered. “What do you want to know?”
4
Four
Sophie was exhausted by the time she got home and she was almost relieved to find Grady sitting on the couch with a pizza box in front of him. It was closed, paper plates stacked on top, and he flipped through a magazine as he waited.
“Hey,” Sophie said, sinking down on the couch and leaning to the side so she could hug him. “I’ve never been happier to see anyone in my entire life.”
Grady gave her a sweet kiss before pulling back, brushing her hair out of her face as he studied her weary features. “You look exhausted, sugar.”
“I had one heck of a day.”
Grady rubbed his thumb over Sophie’s cheek. “Do you want to tell me about it?”
“Yes,” Sophie said. “I’m starving, though. How long has the pizza been here?”
“Only twenty minutes. It should still be warm. We can heat it up if you want, though.”
“I can deal with lukewarm pizza as long as I have you heating up my life,” Sophie teased, pushing herself to a standing position so she could shrug out of her coat and shoes. She moved to sit again and then changed her mind, unsnapping her pants and letting them pool around her ankles before settling next to Grady. “Why are you smirking like that?”
“Because that was pretty much the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” Grady replied, grabbing the blanket from the back of the couch and resting it on Sophie’s lap. He was sad to cover her, but he worried he wouldn’t get through dinner if he didn’t and she seemed to need talk before romance this evening. “You’re the only woman I know who would strip half naked for pizza.”
“I wanted to be comfortable,” Sophie protested.
“Oh, I’m going to make you comfortable once your belly is full,” Grady said, reaching for the pizza box. “Eat up, sugar. I’m going to rub your back until all the kinks are out after dinner … and then I’m going to rub something else.”
Sophie made a face as she reached for a slice of pizza. “You’re a smooth talker.”
“Just wait until I start whispering in your ear in the bedroom,” Grady said, grabbing his own slice. “Tell me about your day. I have some things to tell you about my day, too, but I have a feeling your day is more important.”
“I don’t suppose you caught any news reports today, did you?”
Grady shook his head. “I was in Dearborn for most of the morning and then James made me do inventory all afternoon because he’s a slave driver. Did something big happen?”
“Something huge happened,” Sophie answered. “There was an accident out at Stony Creek last night.”
Grady knit his eyebrows together. “The park?”
“Yeah. Someone decided to drive a car down that narrow bridge and ran it through a guardrail. It plunged over the side and landed in the water, killing three of the occupants.”
“That’s awful,” Grady said, idly rubbing his thumb over the back of Sophie’s neck. “I don’t understand why someone would drive on that bridge, though. It’s clearly meant for aesthetic value … and feeding ducks. It’s too rickety to drive over.”
“Well, I think it’s harder to gauge those things when you’re hammered,” Sophie said.
“Oh, man. The driver was drunk?”
“The driver was definitely drunk,” Sophie confirmed. “He had a blood alcohol content level of .19.”
“That’s obscenely drunk,” Grady said. “Who was killed?”
“Three teenagers from one of the local high schools. Every single one of them was drunk. Only the driver wore a seatbelt. Two of the kids were launched out of the car through the front window on impact.”
Grady inadvertently cringed at the picture Sophie painted. “Did they at least die on impact? They didn’t suffer, right?”
“It looks that way,” Sophie answered. “The coroner is still doing autopsies, but all three kids were declared dead at the scene. Their parents are already screaming about a lawsuit apparently – and not against the driver’s family but against the county because the bridge wasn’t safe to drive on.”
“There are signs warning people not to drive on that bridge,” Grady said. “That lawsuit will never see the light of day.”
“No, it won’t,” Sophie agreed. “That doesn’t mean the parents won’t do a lot of damage before it’s all said and done. They want to blame someone. I get that. They’re going about it the wrong way, though.”
“What about the driver?” Grady asked, grabbing another slice of pizza. “How is he?”
“He has a head injury and is in the hospital,” Sophie replied. “My understanding is that he hasn’t woken up yet, so he doesn’t know his friends are dead or that he’s responsible.”
“Well, it sounds as if you had a horrible day,” Grady said. “Now you’re definitely getting a massage. I was only halfway convinced when I saw you walk through the front door. Now I’m totally convinced.”
Sophie smiled. She couldn’t help herself. Grady was considerate on a good day. On a bad day, he adored doting on her. “There’s more.”
Grady’s eyebrows shot up his forehead. “How can there possibly be more? That’s one of the worst stories I’ve heard in … well … a really long time.”
“The driver of the car was Nate Foley,” Sophie said. “He was eighteen, meaning he was technically an adult.”
“Which means he’ll be charged as an adult,” Grady surmised. “I know it’s rough because he’s young, but three people are dead because of the decision he made. It’s a terrible situation, but he’s got to face his punishment.”
“That’s not the big problem,” Sophie said. “There’s … something else.”
“This story can’t possibly get any worse.”
“Just wait for it,” Sophie said. “Nate Foley is the son of Chuck Foley.”
Grady wrinkled his forehead as he searched his memory. “I recognize that name, but I can’t remember how. Remind me.”
“Chuck Foley is a county commissioner,” Sophie supplied. “He sits on the county board.”
“Holy crap,” Grady intoned. “Now I remember. That guy ran on a platform of clean living and family values.”
“Exactly,” Sophie said, bobbing her head. “Now his son got drunk and killed three friends. I wouldn’t be surprised if drugs were involved, too, but the toxicology report is going to take weeks to come in.
“Morgan didn’t want to tell me any of this, but I kind of bullied him into coming clean by saying I was going to write something regardless,” she co
ntinued. “He said that Chuck Foley is pitching an absolute fit and wants Morgan to promise he won’t press charges against his son.”
“Foley has to know that’s a losing proposition,” Grady said. “Morgan can’t afford another scandal. He’s going to have to do everything aboveboard on this one, which means the younger Foley is going to do major time.”
“I know,” Sophie said. “My story is due to hit the website in two hours. It will also be splashed across the front page of the Daily Tribune tomorrow. I’m the only one who has it. It’s going to be a big deal.”
“My little Lois Lane strikes again,” Grady said, kissing the tip of Sophie’s nose. “Good job terrorizing Morgan into giving you what you want. I know you feel for the dead kids, but this is going to be a huge story and it’s going to hang around for a long time. This could be really big – I mean national attention – before it’s all said and done.”
“Yeah, I’m ready for that if it comes to it,” Sophie said. “I’m not looking forward to Foley’s wrath when he sees the story. I fully expect him to show up at the newspaper screaming for my head before it’s all said and done.”
“He’s not dangerous, is he?”
“He’s a county commissioner,” Sophie said. “He kind of reminds me of a panda bear. He’s really big around the middle and has short arms and legs. I’m not worried about him like that. I just think he’s going to make a lot of noise.”
“Well, if he becomes a problem, I’ll talk to him,” Grady said. “You have a job to do. He has to understand that. If he doesn’t, well, I’ll make him understand.”
“You’re so macho,” Sophie teased, poking Grady’s side.
“I’ll show you macho once you’re done eating.”
The couple shared a soft kiss before Sophie turned her attention back to the pizza box and grabbed another slice. Only two pieces remained and they both knew they would finish it off rather than saving anything for the next day.
Deadly Memories (Hardy Brothers Security Book 18) Page 3