The Boy from the Woods(81)

“Love that,” Lia said.

“And then let’s do the standard attack-the-process. You know. The real crime isn’t on the tape—the real crime is, who illegally taped us? What awful partisan with a clear axe to grind broke into my office and unlawfully spied on me? Those are the real criminals. Why are powerful people willing to break laws to stop my message from reaching the people?”

“Oh, that’s good,” Jan said.

“Right? Also, Lia, have one of our lawyers reach out to Kandi. Remind her of the nondisclosure agreement she signed. She’s not allowed to say anything. If she does, we will destroy her a hundred different ways. If she backs us, let her know that we are financing a new film which we think will be a great comeback role for her.”

“Got it,” Lia said.

“One question,” Jan said.

“Shoot.”

“The media is going nuts right now looking for a comment. What do we put in our official press statement?”

“Nothing yet. Let’s wait and see what social media looks like in a few hours. We should know better then. My guess is, our statement will be pretty vague. Something like ‘We will not comment because we do not want to harm the reputation of Ms. Pate, who is a fine person and vulnerable mentee, and we find it disgusting that the media would drag her through the mud like this just to get some additional clicks and we won’t participate in that kind of gossipy trash over what is clearly not what it is being made out to be.’ That sort of thing. But not yet. I want to see which story takes root. Let’s get the talking points to our people, so they can get on the air asap. We need to keep seeding confusion here, people.”

“On it,” Lia said.

The two women took to their phones and tablets.

Rusty pulled Gavin to the side. “You know where the tape came from, right?”

“I assume the Maynards.”

“You were supposed to stop this.”

“I told you. They fired me.” Then, lowering his voice, Gavin added, “You also told me the tapes had nothing harmful.”

“If this is the worst of it, we will be fine.”

“If?”

“What?”

“You said ‘if.’ What else is there?”

“Get the car,” Rusty Eggers said. “I want to go to the Maynards’.”

*



Wilde was in the library with Delia and Dash Maynard when the newscasts began. They watched the “breaking news” in silence.

During the first commercial break, Wilde said, “I assume that was the ‘very damaging’ upload.”

“We didn’t want to release it,” Delia said.

She stood and headed for the door. Dash looked surprised. “Don’t you want to watch—?”

“I’ve seen enough. I need some air.”

Delia left. Wilde looked up at the stained glass in the library’s turret. It was dark outside, yet the windows somehow still glowed as though the sun were shining through them. The room, as before, felt off to Wilde. A grand library like this should smell of age—leather from the books, pine from the wood, must from usage.

“That should do it, don’t you think?”

No one else was in the room, so Dash was talking to either Wilde or himself.

“Do what?” Wilde asked.

“Satisfy the kidnappers. End Rusty’s campaign.”

Wilde didn’t know. He also didn’t know whether Dash said this with regret or glee. There was fear in the man’s voice. That much was obvious.

“So what do you think is going on here?” Wilde asked.

“Pardon?”

“With your son. Do you think he was kidnapped?”

Dash folded his hands and leaned back. “In the end, Delia and I figured that it was better to be safe than sorry.”

“That doesn’t really answer my question.”

“It’s the best I can do.”

“There was more to your decision to release this video though, wasn’t there?”

“I’m not following.”

“The pressure is off now,” Wilde said.

Dash sounded annoyed now. “What are you talking about?”

“The media demanding you release the Rusty Eggers tapes, everyone constantly screaming at you to do the right thing, to be a patriot—you would have been hounded forever. No privacy. No real freedom. Relentless pressure on you, your businesses, your family. But now that this tape is finally out, that’s all over. There has to be some relief in that.”

Dash turned back to the television. “I don’t mean to be rude, but do you mind moving to another room for a while? I’d really like to be alone for a bit.”

Wilde rose and started for the door. He was just in the corridor when his cell phone rang.

The caller ID read NAOMI PINE.

He put the phone to his ear. “Hello?”

“Hey, Wilde.”

His pulse picked up a step. “Naomi?”

“Stop looking for us, okay?”

“Naomi, where are you?”

“We’re fine. We’re safe.”

“Crash is with you?”

“I have to go.”

“Wait—”