We walked across the capitol lawn toward the hotel. Both of us wore our laptop bags. We talked more about the story on the way over. She told me about the interviews she did with Tiffany, who wouldn't talk at first because she didn't want her sister to get in trouble. Eventually, her sister came to visit and Minny pounced. The two of them talked over what they knew about Senator Simmons and Senator Hicks, both of whom were involved in all of this.
I can't believe that Minny got quotes from Kayleigh on the record. Best of all, she recorded the interviews and stored them on the back drive of her computer. She saved all of her interviews and data on the computer, backing up all of her files into a secure cloud space that one of her friends developed for her. That way none of these companies like Up Sync or New Surge could hack their way into them. She maintained that the files would be kept safe.
We decided on the walk over to my hotel room that we were going to write a story about all of this. We were going to put together a report and then publish it to the world. And, of course, we were going to do it in two forms.
Minny said she had been working on a draft of a story about all of these connections but never had the other side of it. She had her side -- the motivations, the bigger picture. But she didn't have the gritty details. And because those in political circles knew her, it was hard for her to secure all the details she needed for the story.
Insert all of my reporting. The key incident of seeing the murder. The other incident of hearing threatening words from the senator trying to sneak me off the trail.
Put our two sides together and you have a complete look at what happened and how these companies are directly influencing our government, our politics and the American people.
It's amazing what happens when two people come together like this. It changes everything and reshapes the way we view our world.
We hurry through the hotel lobby. No one notices us. We ride the elevator up just the two of us. Minny is talking about the time she had to bunker down in a hotel room to put together her match fixing story that nearly won her a Pulitzer. We walk through the hallways of the hotel until we get to my room. We slide inside and lock the door.
Both of us immediate get to work. We pull our laptops and begin collecting the different files and notes that we have. We open up a secured shared document and paste the details in there. All the details and information we have. Everything but the kitchen sink, you might say. When the document is full of everything we have, we sit next to each other at the desk inside the room and begin to decipher and chat about how we're going to frame this story.
She's an easier one to work with than other journalists. I know a lot of journalists who like to make every word perfect. They like to make each sentence sing. They format their stories so that they're perfectly aligned and designed the right way. But Minny doesn't care about how it reads. She cares more about what it says. It's more important to have the right details, the right facts, the right information than the right words to convey a message. She just wants to tell the truth.
I allow her to do most of the typing because she's the experienced journalist with award-nominated work in her past. We put together a first draft of a story that's close to 3,000 words long by the end of it. We do this before listening to recorded interviews for quotes. We just simply put together all of the facts that we have and we've seen from the reporting. The sun slowly fades from one end of the sky to the other. When the story is put together, she slides it into her flash drive and hands it to me. I run through the hallways. I ride the elevator down to the bottom floor. I find the computer room tucked away in the back corner of the hotel. I insert the flash drive into the computers and print out the story. Its pages and pages of an article. When I've printed up two copies, I run back to the elevator and ride it back into our room. I slide one copy to Minny. We both read over the story on our own. We make notes. We identify problems. We note success. We express changes and things we need to fix.
It's almost dinnertime by the time we're finished with everything. When the story is done, and we have our framework, Minny let's me read it one more time.
"Will it do well on audio?"
"You bet. Now we just need the audio clips."
"So Kayleigh?"
"If you have it still, we could use that. I think it would go over really well with this piece."
"I got it. You want to hear it."
"Yes."
She plays it. And I listen. I listen intently. Kayleigh is nervous against the beginning of the clip. She speaks like she doesn't want to speak. She opens up, allowing herself a chance at vulnerability. And then she starts to talk. She opens up like she can't be contained. Sometimes that's all it takes. One question. And then even the quietest person will open up and begin to talk about whatever they're meant to talk about. And that's exactly what she does.
I don't know where the story is going at first. But then the narrative filters out, like a hidden river through a forest. You see the stream, you hear the current, and then the entire river opens up with a wide berth.
Her words flow and flow like a current. And so too does the narrative of the story and what happened to her and why she's involved in this mess. I didn't know for the longest time why Kayleigh was involved and what she did to be murdered. But now I do. Now it tall makes sense.
As her story goes on, I ask Minny to pause the record. She crumbles and quiets down the audio file. She stares at me.
"And this is all true?"
"From what I could tell, it's exactly what happened. I did my own reporting and it led me to her. And then from there, I used her words. I don't think it's a coincidence that she ended up murdered."
She's right. If this wasn't true, if none of it was true, then she wouldn't have ended up dead. And the senator wouldn't have ended up in the scenario she is in right now either. All of our worlds would be much different. Everything would be how it is right now.
I roll my fingers as a sign for her to roll through he tape and continue playing the recording. And so she does. She locks it on and let's it all unfold again.
When the recording is done, I ask her to send it over to me. I made a note of all the parts that I found interesting. So I am going to go in and start cutting through them to piece together an audio version of the story.
"You're sure it's a good idea?"
I shrug. "It's the only idea we have. It's the only way we can end all of this."
"You know the president is going to sign the bill tomorrow, maybe even tonight. We know it's going on her desk tomorrow. We have to finish this story before it happens. We can't let her make that announcement."
"Annette," she begins and I sense trepidation in her voice. I don't know if she's willing to go down this road with me. "I think there are better ways to go about this. We should give this to an editor. There are proper channels. We can contact the editors at the Scribe and get them to look through it. There is a proper way of going about this."
I know there are good ways to go about this. I know there is a proper way to put these stories into the world. I could reach out to the editor of the Scribe and have her go through it.
But you know what -- that could only lead to more problems. And with this story, there's no telling how hight the problems go.
"I know you're probably nervous about all of this," I say. "And if you don't want to go down this road with me, that's okay. I can do this alone."
"I want to help you with this. I just don't know if we're opening ourselves up to a lot of issues, especially if we don't publish this in any real newspaper."
I shrug. "It's the only way. No one is going to approve this. And both of us have worked too hard. This is the only way we can do this. So what's it going to be?"
She turns to her computer screen and reads through the written document that we've already written. She scrolls and scrolls and then sits back her chair. She takes a deep breath.
And then she says, "Fine. Let's do this."
So we go back at
it. She elects to touch up the final parts of the physical, written story. She grabs her laptop and sits on the bed. Her back leans against the pillows. Her legs stretch out. The laptop sits on her lap. She reads and types, reads and types, reads and types, over and over again, putting the final touches on the story.
I grab my headphones and go to work. I click here and there. I cut the audio clip up, chopping and splicing it to fit the story I am going to tell. When I have all of Kayleigh's clips secured, I then begin to type up my own audio script. I explain the entire story to listener. I read it over once it's done. It's perfect. Just what need for this audio story.
"Alright, I'm going to start recording this. You okay with that?"
"Go right ahead. I'm just putting the finishing touches on this. And then I'll go and get it printed downstairs. And you want just one copy?"
"Yeah, I think that'll be good. THat's all we'll need."
I clear my throat and read the script in front of me again. It's pretty simple. I left myself enough spaces where I can ad lib and provide my own details that I needed to add in where I can.
I read the words out. It takes me a few tries to get them right. I have to keep reciting sentences that I step over. It's late and I'm tired. I haven't done this in awhile either. I am out of practice since I haven't done this in awhile. I get frustrated and throw my hands up when I stumble on a specific passage. But I will myself on to keep going. I need to finish his tonight.
We're just passed midnight when I am happy with the recording I've finished. I play it for Minny. She points out two or three errors compared to the print version. So, even though my eyes burn, I rerecord those segments. I work them into the main file and then play it again for Minny. She wonders about the ending. I tell her it's fine and that it will get the viewers interested in the print story if they know where to find it. She disagrees but she's willing to let me have this one.
When it's all done, I take a deep breath and start walking around the room to stretch my legs.
"You're still sure about this?" Minny asks.
"I think so," I say. "I think we will be fine."
"And you're sure that you don't want to run this through real editors or the Scribe or anything?"
"We're not doing this for awards. We're not doing this to ruin a person's career. We're doing this to raise the question. Everyone else will try to confirm our reporting. That's what we're hoping for."
"I sort of like that better," she says.
"Good."
I pull my phone out of my pocket and dial Ben's number. He picks up on the second ring.
"I was wondering what happened to you," he says.
"I've been locked up in a room with Minny all day."
"Really? And what trouble have you both gotten yourselves into?"
"We put together a story on everything. We have a printed version and a recorded version."
"Wait, really?"
"It's what we have to do. We can't let everything go unreported. We have to do this."
"Are you working through the Scribe or anything?"
"Nope. On our own. I think people have to hear it from me and Minny, and they have to know that we're confident enough to put our reputations on line."
"Wow. Well, I can't be against that. Is there anything I can do to help?"
"Call the senator. I need you to help me arrange a meeting with her."
"You're sure?"
"She needs to hear what we found."
Ben says he'll arrange everything and get us our date with destiny. When I hang up, Minny and I stare at each other from across the room. The endgame is upon us. All of this will be over soon.
Chapter 30:Goodbye
Ben has made the arrangements. Senator Simmons and her security will meet me at the capitol building. She's been there all day working through the final deals of the bill that Congress plans to send to the president. So that will be the easiest place to find her. Ben asks me if that's alright since it's already so late in the day. But I tell him it'll be fine. We need to talk about this story before the day is over. Tomorrow will be too late.
Minny and I spend another thirty minutes going over the story. We talk about the points we make and whether or not we need to make them earlier. She thinks it's written out perfectly. I tell her I think we need to be a little more direct with our reporting's assertions. But she assures me that this is how big stories are done. You slowly weave breaking news items through a long narrative. I want to tell her she's wrong, but I know I barely won over her endorsement for the audio version of the story, so I'll let that one go.
When the clocks strikes one in the morning, we begin to make our moves. We throw on our winter coats and head out of the room. The hallway is empty. It's quiet. People must have deserted the halls because of the late hours. We're probably the only ones moving through the hallways.
We ride the elevator down to the lobby. The desk clerks bids us hello with a salute and a wave. I smile back at him. He must think that we look like zombies because of the sleep deprivation. But it's for a worthy cause.
We grab seats in the lobby in the leather chairs next to a large window that shows the world outside. I pull out my phone and order a Lyft. It'll be here in about twenty minutes. I guess people are busy at this time at night. Or maybe there are just few Lyfts and Ubers around to pick us night owls up.
Minny and I sit there in silence. Nerves buzz within me because I know I am about to confront the senator about everything that happened. I will finally show her the connections I drew together. If I am wrong, then all the work we just did will be for nothing. But I'm not wrong. I know I'm not wrong.W e have the physical documents of everything that links it together. Minny and I know what's true and what we learned. And we're going to share it with the world, and with the senator.
"I'm not coming with you," Minny says.
My head ticks up to her. Our eyes meet. She's not just saying it. She means it.
"Sorry?"
"I did my part," she says. "I gave you all the information I had and I helped you right it. But I'm going to head home. My part in this is all done."
"I need you for this."
She shakes her head. "No you don't. You've been doing this on your own this entire time. You'll be fine. Just remember the talking points and everything we found out."
"But half of this story is yours," I say. "I mean, how are we going to talk to the senator about it if you're not there? I mean, come on, Minny. We were supposed to print this together."
"It's yours," she says. She stands up, pulls out her phone, and hails her own Uber to come and pick her up. "I can't do this part with you. I want to stay hidden."
"What happened to you?"
"I told you what happened to me."
"Something else happened to you. I could see it in your face when we were talking earlier. Something else happened to you when you were writing for the fake news website. I know it."
Her immediate silence tells me I'm correct. She looks away for a second toward the now-closed lobby restaurant. Her eyes tick back to me. She shakes her head.
"I don't know how to explain what happened to me back then. And I don't want to talk to you about it. Not now. But yeah, something happened to me. And I just don't want anyone to know that I'm poking around. I like to hide. I like being hidden and off the grid from the rest of the world. It keeps me alive."
"Why would people be trying to kill you?"
"You never know," she says with a shrug. "It's possible after everything I went through. I can't trust anyone anymore. And look what happened the second I start poking around with this Kayleigh stuff. She winds up dead, and this entire city becomes a mess."
"That's not your fault."
"Maybe not," she says. "But I don't want to chance it. I don't want to keep involving myself in all of these messes if they're only going to hurt people. I'm sorry that I'm abandoning you at this stage in the game. But I know you'll do fine. I know you'll be okay."
She doesn'
t know that. In fact, I would argue having two people together would help us talk to the senator about everything. They might be less aggressive if there are two of us, and not just one. If there's one, if it's just me, then they could kill me without any kind of consequence. But if she's there ... would they stop? They'd probably be more likely to kill one person than two.
Her Uber arrives before my Lyft about ten minutes later. I walk her to the door and outside into the bitter cool night. She stands outside the hotel with me. We look each other in the eyes. And then we hug. We've only known each other for a half a day, but we've already been through so much. We've crafted an extremely important story together, and we just might win over the bad guys in the end.
"Stay safe," she says.
"You too."
"If you're ever in any trouble again, you can call me."
"I know."
"Just promise me you'll get out of here when all of this is finished."
"Sorry, what?"
"This place is hell. Everyone is cutthroat. Everyone is trying to stab each other in the front. And the second they're not -- well, they're trying to stab you in the back. I'm just giving you advice. Get out of here when you can. Go back home, or to Minnesota, or whatever. Just promise me you'll leave Washington."
I don't know if leaving Washington is in my plans. Should it be? There's a good chance Ben and I will get back together once this whole mess blows over. Plus, there's the job at the Scribe to consider, assuming they're not turned off by me and Minny's story.
But Minny might be right. This place is extremely dangerous. Even worse than being chased by serial killers, the danger is in the public arena. Your personality, your life, your dignity, are all on the line with the people you meet here.
Just look at me for an example. I went on a nighttime run through the national monument and I witnessed a horrific murder. And since then, I've been jumping around, reporting on this and that, under threat from the senator.
Into the Night Page 22