The Lies I Tell(76)

I’m ten years older now, and I understand that life isn’t linear; cause and effect are often unclear. I still want the story, but at some point over the last several weeks, my motivation has shifted. What I want now is to see Meg succeed.

Jenna’s voice pulls me back. “When it’s over, call me. Maybe take the trip then. My door is always open.”

“Thanks.”

I hang up and turn around, the morning sun now directly in my eyes, and I close them, letting the brightness burn everything away.

***

When I get back to the parking lot, I find Scott leaning against a car I don’t recognize, waiting for me. My step falters, but only for a moment.

“Are you following me?” I ask.

He gives a tiny shrug of confirmation. “I need to talk to you.”

“Whose car is that?” I ask.

“Rental. Your friend Meg slammed on her brakes, causing me to plow into the back of her car.”

My mind flashes back to Meg’s bumper, bent inward. “Maybe you shouldn’t have been following her, since she hasn’t done anything wrong.” I unlock my car door and look at him across the roof.

“You don’t know that,” he says.

“If you had proof, you wouldn’t be here. What do you want, Scott?”

“She took that guy to look at a property in Mandeville Canyon yesterday.”

A flash of frustration passes through me. Like the horizon line, every time I think I know where Meg is going, she moves farther away from me, an ever-shifting illusion. “So? He’s buying a house. She sells them.”

“You know that’s not true,” he says. “I can help you.”

“By stealing my notes? Stealing money you know I don’t have?”

“Getting your notes back is the only reason you’re still standing here talking to me,” he says. “Like I said, I’ve been following her. There’s stuff I know that you can use.”

“I could use $30,000.”

Scott ignores my dig. “Remember how we used to bounce ideas off each other? Brainstorm new leads to follow?” His expression is pleading, and I have to look away. “Tell me you don’t miss it.”

“I don’t miss it.”

“If you drop the charges against me, we can work together. I’ll do the detective work, and you can write the story you’ve been chasing for ten years. I can feed you exclusive information from inside the investigation. It could be life-changing for both of us.”

I stare at him, the planes of his face so familiar, and wonder if he remembers making that same promise a few weeks ago. “And conveniently make a problem of yours go away,” I finally say.

“Maybe,” he admits. “But if you don’t drop the charges, I’ll lose my job and then I’ll never be able to pay you back.”

I know he believes what he’s saying, but I also know he’ll never follow through. The money he owes me will be an obligation that will bother him for a little while, until he becomes so accustomed to the weight of it, he won’t think about it anymore.

A battered Volvo pulls up next to me, a surfboard strapped to its roof, and I watch an older man get out, a wetsuit unzipped and dangling around his waist. He releases his board from its bindings and locks his car, half jogging toward the water. My mind travels back to Cory Dempsey, the man who started it all, and I wonder what he would say if he could see his former girlfriend now, on the verge of taking down a future state senator.

Scott continues. “You’d have the advantage of department resources—surveillance, computer forensics. If Meg is doing anything online, we’ll be able to see it. She’s targeting a political figure. We can stop her before she does any more harm.”

I want to laugh. The harm has already been done, by Ron. By Scott. “How is it they haven’t placed you on leave yet?” I ask. “I filed a report against you over a week ago.”

“Right now, I have friends looking out for me,” he says. “Paperwork moves slow. But if you don’t drop the charges, neither of us will get what we want.”

Scott doesn’t know what I want anymore.

“Here’s my offer,” I finally say. “I’ll drop the charges, but you need to leave the department. Quit and get some real help.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Your call.” I slide into the driver’s seat and back out. Scott stays where he is, watching as I turn right onto PCH. As I blend into the traffic heading south, I hope I’ve made the right decision.





Meg


October

Four Weeks before the Election

Ron’s deposit hits the escrow account without any problems, and in another five days, the rest of the money will transfer—$4 million from the Canyon Drive sale and $3 million from Ron’s campaign—and I’ll be on my way out of the country.

But first, I have to meet Ron at the Mandeville property with his landscaping guy, Rico. I’d tried to talk him out of it—the election is four weeks away; focus on winning—because every trip to the property is a risk. The listing agent would be very surprised to find us there.

I’d given Ron the inspection report, obtained from the company who’d performed the inspection on the property a year ago, tweaking dates and adding details to match our needs—appliances that need to be replaced, new gutters on one of the outbuildings. I deleted some of the bigger issues that caused the prior buyer to drop out—a deteriorating roof, an outdated HVAC system, and dry rot. As far as Ron knows, the property is in good shape.