The Last Invitation (19)
She stopped moving and fidgeting and trying to race away and faced him. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Nothing about him suggested he was out of it or invested in wild stories. He looked like every other guy in the neighborhood. He wore jeans and a blazer and running shoes, completely what she’d expect in the Bethesda area . . . but maybe that was the scary thing about conspiracy theorists. They were far too easy to take seriously, at least at first.
“The group,” he said.
“What group? Do you hear yourself?” She tried to reason with him, even though she knew that was useless. He wasn’t rational, no matter what he looked like. “I know you were some big-time reporter, and then . . . I don’t know. Something happened, I guess?” She kept her voice calm. Aimed at being supportive but in a we don’t even know each other kind of way. “You should talk to someone. Get help.”
He rested his hand on the roof of her car. “You need me.”
Too close. Adrenaline pumped through her. “I really don’t.”
“I have information about your ex-husband’s death,” he said in an almost manic rush.
“Right.” But Gabby hated the way her heartbeat ticked up. He’d hit on the one subject that refused to leave her mind, but she couldn’t let him know about her interest. He was too much of a wild card. “Did you tell the police?”
“They won’t believe me.”
She could feel her body deflate. “I can’t say I blame them. That seems to be a problem you created.”
“Not me. The group.” He shook his head, looking as lost as he sounded. “If you dig too much or get close, they close in.”
She saw a man watching them a few cars away. She wanted everyone’s attention now, because this had crossed a line into batshit territory. “You have ten seconds to leave, or I’m going to scream and keep screaming until you leave me alone.”
But he was lost in the story playing in his head. Words rushed out of him. “They’ll have to keep you quiet. You pointing out the truth about your ex threatens their plans.”
“Uh-huh.” She slid her hand under the door handle and heard the door unlock again.
“I know this sounds unbelievable.”
“That’s one word for it.”
“They can’t have you questioning the suicide. Their plans only work if no one looks too closely and so long as their inside people work fast enough to bury the truth.”
She fumbled for her cell phone and started punching buttons. “This is me calling the police.”
“Stop.” He reached for her phone. “God, please just listen to what I’m saying.”
The man who had been watching them—tall, from the haircut probably military or retired military—started toward them. Lethal-looking. Good. That’s exactly what she needed right now.
“Ma’am, are you okay?” the man asked as he stepped in close. His presence had the reporter pulling back.
Relief whooshed through her. That fast, she could feel the tension easing from her as she forced her fingers to unclench around her keys. “Thank you. He’s leaving.”
The man nodded, but he didn’t go far. He hovered right behind the reporter as if ready to lunge, if needed.
“They’ll find out your secret,” Rob said in a near whisper this time. “If I could find out, so can they. They know, and they’ll release the secret in the way calculated to hurt you the most, to discredit you. To keep you quiet.”
What? There was no way . . . right? She’d been careful. He had to be throwing out words, hoping he picked the right ones to scare her. Well, it worked. She opened the car door and slipped inside. She had it closed and locked a second later. But she could still hear him through the window.
“We’re running out of time, and I have to keep moving because I’m a target,” he said as he tucked another one of his cards under her windshield wiper blade. “Don’t wait.”
Chapter Nineteen
Jessa
Covington walked into her office without any greeting and shut the door behind him. “We need to remove you from the Bartholomew matter. It’s time.”
The bold statement made Jessa cough up her sip of coffee. “The judge is taking me off the case?”
He handed her a sheet of paper. “I had my secretary draft a motion to withdraw as guardian ad litem for Curtis. You need to review it and sign.”
She refused to touch the document. “No.”
“This isn’t a request, Jessa.”
“Why?” She’d been on the phone all morning with various players in the case, trying to figure out if Curtis was safe after Darren’s willingness to smash cars to get his way. He was the problem, not her.
“Darren’s attorney intends to file an ethics complaint with the bar then file a motion in the case—a public document—regarding your competency.”
Destroy her. That was the obvious goal here. Make it so that her testimony would be discounted. Never mind that she didn’t have enough information to actually have a legal opinion yet.
She decided to point out the obvious. “I’m not the one who slammed into my spouse’s car in a driveway.”
“They’re accusing you of conspiring with a woman who is known to assist allegedly abused women. Your friend, Faith. The belief is you are predisposed, thanks to your relationship with Faith or otherwise, to side with the wife in the Bartholomew case.”