A Secret to Die For, page 25
“So are we trying lower case?” Aaron asked.
Blue made a decision. “Yes.”
Password incorrect. One attempt remaining.
Dammit.
Once again, everyone turned in my direction. Why were they looking at me? Didn’t they realise how little I knew about anything?
“Why couldn’t she have picked a normal password?” Brooke asked. “Regular people use the name of their pet and their birthday, don’t they?” A pause. “Or is that just me?”
Luca snorted. “Better change your passwords, sweetheart.”
Fires… Dust… Oh my gosh. The pieces began to click together. If I’d gotten the “third floor” part confused, then perhaps I’d misunderstood “fires” too? Because what did we have in front of us? Files.
“Can I try?” I asked, and Aaron angled the laptop toward me.
My fingers trembled as I entered Duster816.
Password accepted.
I’d never felt relief like it, not even on the day a semi swerved into my lane and missed me by inches. When the driver got arrested—he landed in a tree—he’d claimed he was avoiding Bigfoot, and then he blew double the limit in a breath test after a deputy took him back to the station.
Thank goodness.
“Told you that you knew it,” Blue said, sounding smug. “You should trust your instincts more.”
No way. I’d just used up my entire quota of luck for the next decade.
The drive contained seven files—a plain text document and six videos. Aaron tried opening the document first, and we all leaned closer when several paragraphs popped up on the screen.
If you’re reading this, then I’m dead. And the person responsible is one of the six men in these videos. Scum rises to the top. Those in power protect themselves.
But I should start at the beginning…
Eight weeks ago, a young woman approached me after my yoga class and said a friend needed to speak with me. Usually, I’d have brushed her off, but she was persistent. She talked the whole way to my car. Her friend was in trouble, she claimed. She’d seen things she shouldn’t, and she believed her revelations would rock Capitol Hill to its core. She had to speak with me because Mike Colvin was the one man who she thought might be able to help. What can I say? I got curious. Pete drove me, and we met at a diner in Maryland.
She introduced herself as Samantha, but I have no idea if that was her real name. It probably wasn’t.
Samantha claimed she’d been recruited two years ago to work as a high-end escort. The money was good, she said, and the work sure beat waitressing. But after six months, she started to recognise some of her clients. Rich men, powerful men, politicians. And she began to overhear things. She realised that her clients weren’t the men she was servicing, but instead were the men who watched. Who recorded the interactions. They called themselves Compass, and she was a tiny cog in a vast machine. Honestly, I thought she was a fantasist when she talked about a new world order, about a small but mighty movement slowly aligning governments to its own way of thinking. But then she showed me the videos. Just a sample, she said. There are hundreds more, thousands even, blackmail material against those in positions of influence.
She was terrified, that much was obvious. She’d come to realise that women like her didn’t have a long life expectancy. If they learned too much or if they outlived their usefulness, they disappeared. Her time was coming, she feared, and if the worst happened, she didn’t want her death to be in vain. I asked why she didn’t just run. She told me they’d always find her.
Samantha came to me because Mike was one of the few targets Compass hadn’t been able to catch in a compromising position. Squeaky clean, she said. She wanted him to see the videos, to set wheels in motion to investigate what sounded like a huge conspiracy theory.
A conspiracy theory that I think might be real.
Watch the videos and read Mike’s obituary, mine too. You’ll see.
I took copies of the videos, and I went to Mike. I truly thought he would do the right thing, the honourable thing. But that was my biggest mistake. I came to realise that when you mix men with politics, greed trumps everything. Instead of starting an investigation, Mike tried to use the videos to his own advantage. The opportunity was too good to pass up, he said. Margins in the House were razor thin, and if he could swing a vote or two our way… Our way. I no longer wanted to be a part of this, and I told him so. We fought about it. He promised to reconsider, but by then, the damage was already done. This morning, I attended his funeral. A heart attack, the powers that be said. A simple yet unfortunate medical issue.
Samantha said professionals were good at that. At making death look like an accident or pinning the blame on somebody else.
It’s not only money that makes the world go round; it’s blackmail and murder too.
So, now you know.
Do with this information what you will, but do it very, very carefully.
Claire Baldwin-Forlani.
There was absolute silence in Aaron’s study as we all digested the contents of the letter. Now I knew why my mom had died, and the reason was worse than anything I could possibly have imagined. She’d stumbled across a den of vipers, and then someone she cared about had betrayed her. I’d experienced betrayal myself, but for Mom, it had been a hundred times worse. Not knowing who to trust, not knowing who to turn to… At least I had my friends.
Luca was the first to speak. “Well, fuck.”
Blue was next. “Come on, let’s watch the videos.”
Gracie gripped my hand as Aaron clicked on the first file, but truthfully, it was a bit of a let-down. Two men eating in a restaurant, and one passed an envelope across the table to the other. I didn’t recognise either of them.
“Any ideas?” Blue asked.
It was Deck who answered. “The man on the left is Senator Presley, and he’s an asshole. No idea about the other guy.”
“Let’s move on.”
Video number two showed a grey-haired man kissing a woman young enough to be his granddaughter. Not his wife, I was guessing.
“Anyone?”
“Garrett might know,” Gracie said softly. “If the man is in politics, I mean. My brother goes to a lot of fundraisers.”
“Why don’t we look at the third video?” Brooke asked brightly.
Whoa. We all recognised the subject of that one, although I had to squint to believe it.
“Is that…is that President Harrison?”
Also not with his wife. The First Lady had dark brown hair, and this was a blonde. How long ago had the president gotten married? I wasn’t sure. He opened the car door for the blonde to climb out, tucked an arm around her waist, and the two of them set off along the street. But they didn’t get far before he pushed her up against a dark storefront and kissed her passionately. Another shot showed them in a restaurant, looking cosy as they ate dinner.
Whoever Samantha was, she’d been right. These people, this Compass, they were watching everyone. Had James Harrison even been a senator sixteen years ago? Or had they been smart enough to preempt his rise to power?
“Claire said one of the men in these videos was responsible for her death,” Blue reminded us. “If the President of the United States was involved, we might have bitten off a little more than we can chew.”
And I’d always thought Harrison was one of the good guys. Yet more evidence that I was a poor judge of character.
“Play the next video,” Colt said.
Oh, yikes, too much boobs. The man in question was sucking them, pressing them together, sliding his dick between them as their owner moaned dramatically underneath him.
“Are those real?” I asked without thinking.
Blue snorted. “I doubt it. But that’s former Congressman Bull. You remember him? He’s the jackass who went viral when his ex-wife cut the ass out of his pants, and he didn’t realise before he set out to open a new mini-mall.”
I did remember. And now that I’d seen this video, I honestly couldn’t blame her.
Number five had been filmed in a bathroom, and judging by the attire—a tuxedo and a ballgown—the couple featured had been attending a gala or an awards show or a fancy dinner. The man was fucking his companion from behind, one hand over her mouth to muffle her cries. I thought I might have seen the face on TV sometime, but I couldn’t put a name to it.
“Well, hello, Governor DeVaio,” Colt said. “I met that guy at some dinner with Brie. The woman on the tape isn’t his current wife.”
We had one video left, and even before Aaron pressed play, I had a good idea of who we’d see in it. Five bucks said movie star number six was a politician, he was a sleaze, and he never went anywhere without a human pit bull at his side.
And I was right.
In the grainy footage, Congressman Mandell ground away on top of a pretty young blonde. Although her eyes were open, she seemed frozen, and light glistened off her cheek. She was crying. The camera was high up and to the side, and I’d bet my inheritance neither of the pair knew they were being filmed.
“Fuck.”
Deck caught Gracie a second before she hit the floor, and too late, I realised that we’d opened old wounds. Nine years ago, this had been her. We’d just taken a box cutter to suppressed memories, and pain was spilling out.
“Get off, get off, get off!”
She came to and began to struggle as Deck carried her to the couch on the other side of the room, and he nearly dropped her. I crouched at her side and tried to take her hand, but she smacked me away. She was shaking now, and she drew her knees up to her chest and squashed herself into the cushions, cheeks red, breathing hard.
Brooke knelt beside me. “I think it’s a panic attack.”
“What should we do?” I asked.
“I don’t freaking know!”
Okay, not helping. “Relax. Just relax and stay calm.”
I wasn’t sure whether I was addressing Gracie or Brooke or myself, but Gracie didn’t relax. No, she trembled harder.
“I could ask Dr. Google,” Aaron offered. “Unless anyone knows a real doctor? Should we take her to the hospital?”
I knew who to ask. I also didn’t want to ask him, but I had to. Quaking myself, I dialled Garrett Dorsey.
“Saralisa? Thank fuck. I mean, it’s great to hear from you. I was terrified you’d—”
“Has Gracie ever had a panic attack before?”
“Not for years. Why?” Hope turned to concern. “Is she having one now?”
“I think so? What do I do? I don’t know what to do.”
“Okay.” I heard him suck in a breath. “Okay, do not tell her to relax. It only makes her more agitated.” Oops. “Reassure her that you’re there and you’re not going anywhere. Then make her do multiplication.”
“Multiplication?”
“Like the times tables. It makes her focus.”
“Really? That’s….” Weird, but nothing about this situation was normal. “Okay, I’ll do it.”
“I’m on my way.”
He hung up, and I took a bracing breath of my own. I could do this; I could.
“Gracie, I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. What’s three times three?”
Blank stare.
“Three times three, Gracie. Can you help me with the answer?”
Finally, a small voice. “Nine.”
“That’s great, you’re doing great. What’s two times six?”
“Twelve.”
Instead of staring into the distance, she began to focus on me.
“How about four times eight?”
“Thirty-two.”
“Somebody needs to let Garrett in,” I whispered. “Gracie, what’s five times three?”
My math game was rusty, but I carried on for what seemed like forever, the rest of the room and the people fading away so it was just the two of us. Gracie let me take her hand, and her breathing gradually returned to normal. Then he was beside me. I felt Garrett before I saw him, that change of energy, and although he was careful not to touch me, my skin prickled with goosebumps.
“Gracie, I’m here. Hey, what’s sixty-seven times nineteen?”
She managed a teary smile. “I’m not a calculator.”
“But you’re better at math than me.” He tucked her hair behind her ears. “How are you feeling?”
“Tired.”
“Me too, me too. Do you want something to drink?”
“A glass of water?”
“I’ll get it.” Aaron slipped out of the room.
“Can you remember what worried you? Is there anything you want to talk about?”
Her face crumpled, and Garrett wrapped her up in a hug until the tears stopped. If Congressman Mandell had been in the room at that moment, I would have taken a blowtorch to his balls and enjoyed every second of it.
“There was a video,” I whispered. “We’ll show you later.”
“I need to get her back to the hotel. Can I call you tomorrow?”
“Okay.”
That night, I lay awake, turning over the latest horrors in my mind. The revelations. Compass. I knew now why my parents had died, and it was all so…so pointless. Mom had been trapped between a rock and a hard place, between Compass and Congressman Mandell, and it hadn’t even been her fault. And as for Mike Colvin… What a snake. Sure, he might not have cheated on his wife or accepted bribes or raped a helpless young woman, but he’d turned the other cheek to the abuse and exploited the situation instead of trying to fix it. No wonder Mom had wanted to leave politics.
A car drove past on the road outside, and I tensed. Harless was still out there. But the engine faded away in the distance, the building remained silent, and I relaxed again. Thought of my own mistakes.
Because I’d messed up too. By bringing Gracie to help in the search at The Lookout, I’d invited consequences I hadn’t foreseen. I’d hurt her, and it wasn’t lost on me how mad I’d been at Garrett for doing the same thing to me. We’d both done what we thought was right.
We’d both been wrong.
37
SARA
“How’s Gracie?” I asked Garrett.
Thursday morning, and he’d arrived at the old car dealership bearing pastries I didn’t deserve and coffee I couldn’t stomach. His sister wasn’t with him.
“She’s doing better.”
“Is she mad at me for putting her in that situation?”
“She’s mad at Mandell. She mentioned something about a flamethrower.”
“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry for everything. For stirring up her pain, for bringing both of you into my mess, for shutting you out these past few days. I was scared—no, terrified—after everything that happened, and losing control of my secrets and the circumstances meant I couldn’t think rationally.”
He opened his arms and I stepped into them, borrowing a little of his strength as I tried not to cry.
“Can you forgive me?” I asked. “Can Gracie?”
“There’s nothing to forgive. Gracie’s resting, but she asked me to give you a hug. As for me, I love you, and that isn’t going to change. You’re mine, Saralisa, and I’ll destroy any man who tries to harm you. Can you forgive me?”
Garrett shouldn’t have gone behind my back, but he’d been trapped too, trapped between a man he thought was a family friend and my hazy memories. If I threw away our relationship, Mandell would win yet again.
“I already have.”
I kissed him. It was only meant to be a quick peck, but he tunnelled his hands through my hair and suddenly, the atmosphere got a whole lot hotter. I finally felt whole again, complete, back where I was meant to be. At least, I did until Blue made a gagging noise behind us.
“Okay, we get it, you’re back together. Congratulations. But we have work to do, hotshot, so put her down. Is that coffee?”
“Help yourself.”
“And you brought Danishes too? Fine, you can stay.”
Garrett kept an arm around my waist as we followed Blue back to Aaron’s study, the scene of so much drama last night. Brooke and Deck were both working today, so there were only six of us present, and Aaron opened up the files one at a time for Garrett to view, first the letter and then the videos. With each clip, Garrett’s fingers dug harder into my hip. By the time we got to Mandell, I had bruises and Garrett had a face like a thundercloud.
“Do we know who any of the women are?” he asked.
Blue shook her head. “No. But if we release the tape, they might come forward.”
“I can see some of those girls being paid players as Samantha alleged, but not the woman with Mandell. She wasn’t acting.”
“I don’t think so either.”
“And if you release that tape, her picture’s going to end up all over the news. If she’s been working through the trauma as Gracie has, seeing herself like that will set her recovery back years. Maybe even forever. We want revenge, but I don’t want another woman to get hurt in the process. People will never look at her the same way again.”
“So we blur out her face. This is how we get payback, Dorsey. Graham Mandell had three people killed to prevent this tape from seeing the light of day, and if it’s out there in the public domain, he’ll have no reason to come after Sara anymore. Plus everyone will know what kind of man he is.”
“If you blur out her face, nobody will see the tears. And without a witness coming forward, he’ll say it was consensual or some sort of role play. He’ll twist it and play the victim. Someone recorded a private moment, he’s the innocent party, yada yada yada.”
“What about the voters?”
“Maybe they’ll care, and maybe they won’t. Politics has changed in the past sixteen years.”
“Enough for rape not to matter?”
“Capitol Hill has more drama than a soap opera, and Congress, the Senate, and the White House are a three-ring circus. President Harrison’s ass has its own TikTok account. A dead guy got elected to the state senate in Wisconsin. Folks in Texas chose an ex-gym teacher who got fired for spying on teenage girls in the shower as their mayor, and the polls barely moved when a congressman from Georgia took his mistress on a luxury vacation in Bermuda while his wife was having chemo. There are conspiracy theories about conspiracy theories, and if Mandell put out a statement saying the Deep State had faked the video, too many people would believe him.”
