Deadly Memories (Hardy Brothers Security Book 18) (8 page)

S
ophie was late for work
, but just barely. The newspaper’s secretary fixed her with a snarky look when she strolled into the front vestibule of The Daily Tribune.

“You’re late.”

“You’re a master of the obvious, Marge,” Sophie said, biting her cheek to keep from saying something obnoxious to the longtime receptionist. They didn’t have the warmest of relationships – Marge convinced Sophie looked down on her and Sophie convinced Marge had a pathological need for attention no one would ever be able to fill – but Sophie wasn’t in the mood for a fight.

“Why were you late this morning?” Marge asked, ignoring Sophie’s desperate glance at the glass doors that led to the newspaper office’s inner sanctum. “Please tell me your boyfriend wised up and kicked you to the curb.”

For years Marge harbored a crush on James Hardy that bordered on the ludicrous. When he fell in love with Mandy, her hopes were dashed. She switched her over-the-top affection to Grady in the aftermath, although Sophie was still trying to decide if Marge really liked her handsome boyfriend or if she was merely trying to get under Sophie’s skin.

“I’m sorry to disappoint you, but Grady and I are still happy.”

“And still living together?”

Sophie nodded. “We share a bed and everything,” she said, internally snickering when Marge made an exaggerated face and mimed throwing up. “I’m sorry I’m late. I had a spot of car trouble and had to get a loaner car. If you feel the need to tattle to human resources, be my guest.”

“I’m not a tattletale,” Marge replied primly. “I’m a trusted employee of this establishment, and as such, I have a responsibility to make sure the employees don’t take advantage of our kind-hearted employers.”

“Wow, that was a mouthful, huh?” Sophie said, widening her eyes. “Have you been practicing that answer for a long time?”

“You’re so full of yourself,” Marge grumbled. “I can’t wait until someone knocks you down a peg or two.”

“Well, keep hoping,” Sophie said. “I don’t think it’s going to happen today.”

Sophie stilled when she saw the sly smile move across Marge’s face.
Did she know something?

“You should probably go to the front office instead of the newsroom this morning,” Marge said, adopting a sickly sweet tone for Sophie’s benefit. “I believe they’re expecting you.”

“Who is expecting me?” Sophie was confused. She didn’t like how triumphant Marge appeared. The woman fancied herself more important than she was, but she seemed a little too happy. “What’s going on?”

“Mr. Malcolm and Mr. Dorchester are waiting for you in the meeting room in the front office,” Marge answered. She was practically flapping her vulture wings – ready to pick at Sophie’s carcass should she die – she was so excited. “They left word that they wanted you to head there right away when you arrived. They probably weren’t expecting you to be late.”

Sophie scowled as she strode toward the door. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You didn’t ask.”

Sophie fought to tamp down her nerves as she hurried down the hallway in the direction of the front office. She was sure the meeting had something to do with the Nate Foley story. His father probably called to complain or something. While she usually didn’t have a fear of authority figures, the publisher Archibald Dorchester wasn’t known for being hands-on when it came to the editorial staff.

Sophie offered the bug-eyed woman behind the desk in the administration office a wan smile and the secretary wordlessly pointed toward the conference room instead of speaking. Sophie tugged on her frayed courage as she entered, pasting a pleasing smile on her face as she moved toward the table.

Conrad Malcolm, Sophie’s editor and close friend, offered her a reassuring smile as he pointed to the chair at the end of the table. “Have a seat, Sophie.”

“I’m sorry I’m late,” Sophie offered lamely, briefly wondering if she should’ve kept that to herself. “I had car trouble. I had to get a loaner.”

Dorchester, his head completely bald, lifted his eyes to Sophie’s and affected a puzzled look. “Wasn’t that you I saw driving a Mercedes and parking at the end of the lot so no one would risk dinging it? That’s not a loaner car.”

Drat!
Sophie had forgotten the publisher’s window looked out on the parking lot. “I had to borrow my foster father’s car because mine needs to go into the shop.”

“I hope it’s nothing serious,” Conrad said.

“No, it’s mostly … cosmetic,” Sophie said.

Dorchester obviously wasn’t big on small talk because he got right to the point. “Ms. Lane, we’ve received a call from Commissioner Foley and three of his lawyers over the past twenty-four hours,” he said. “He’s threatening a lawsuit.”

“Okay,” Sophie said, unsure how she was supposed to answer. “What did you say to him?”

“I told him I had no intention of kowtowing to his demands and backing off on the story,” Dorchester answered. “He didn’t seem to like my answer … made some veiled threats that frankly bored me … and then swore up and down he was going to sue us.”

Sophie licked her lips and swallowed hard. “Do you think he will?”

“I don’t really care,” Dorchester said. “You got the information from the sheriff himself. There was nothing inaccurate about the report. Frankly, Commissioner Foley is talking to hear himself talk at this point.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Conrad said. “We just want to make sure you’re extra careful going forward. Double and triple check statements when at all possible. Foley is going to work overtime to get us – especially because you were the only one who had the full story that first day – so we don’t want to give him any ammunition if we can help it.”

“I always double check my facts,” Sophie said. “I never print anything I’m not absolutely sure about.”

“Yes, I’m sure you’re very diligent,” Dorchester said. “This is a big story. Circulation yesterday was through the roof when we beat everyone and it was still strong today. I want you to put all of your efforts into chasing this.”

“Okay,” Sophie said, exchanging a quick look with Conrad. He didn’t give her any clues to Dorchester’s intentions, so she plowed forward with only a hint of hesitation. “How far do you want me to go? Do you want me to go to the family’s home? What about the school?”

“Talk to the students,” Dorchester said. “Do not go to the family’s house unless they send out a press release requesting attendance from a reporter. Don’t give him something else to bellyache about.

“I have faith you know what you’re doing, Ms. Lane,” he continued. “Don’t let me down. Keep crushing the competition when you can. I have a feeling this is only going to get bigger if we play our cards right.”

“Yes, sir.”

“
W
HAT’S
up
, buttercup?” James asked, smirking as Grady slid into his office an hour after his shift was supposed to start. “Are you late because you had a good night, or a bad one?”

“We had a great night,” Grady answered, narrowing his eyes and practically daring James to say something obnoxious. “We had a rough morning, though.”

James’ smile slipped. “What happened? Was Sophie upset about us breaking into the storage unit?”

“She wasn’t happy about that,” Grady said. “She didn’t give me a lot of grief. She was thrilled with the framed photograph of her when she was little. She didn’t remember what she looked like at that age.”

“Well, that makes me sad,” James said. “I kind of forget sometimes that she didn’t always have it easy. She only spent a few years in the lap of luxury with Peter as a kid. It was harder for her before that. If she was thrilled with the photograph, what’s wrong?”

“Well, there’s a few things going on, but the big one today involved Sophie’s car,” Grady explained. “When she went out to the driveway this morning, she found someone painted the word ‘whore’ on the side of it.”

James knit his eyebrows together. “Whore? That’s kind of … high school.”

“It is,” Grady agreed. “The problem is that she’s on that big story about the county commissioner’s son getting hammered and driving off that bridge at Stony Creek.”

“I’m aware of the story,” James said. “It’s been all over the news.”

“Yesterday, the father verbally attacked Sophie in a restaurant, and I’m kind of wondering if he would be worked up enough to do something this juvenile as payback,” Grady said. “By the way, I’m not sure if she told you, but he was mean to Mandy, too.”

“I heard,” James said, scowling. “I spent hours perking Mandy up and swearing I didn’t think she was a bimbo. If I see that guy – I don’t care how upset he is – I’m going to pop him in the face.”

“I’m right there with you,” Grady said. “I keep trying to wrap my head around this. Part of me thinks Foley would never risk doing something so stupid. It’s not like painting a word on the side of her car is going to get Sophie to back off.”

“But?”

“But it could also be kids,” Grady said. “Nate Foley is a senior at that high school out on Twenty-One Mile, you know the really rich one where all the students wear uniforms. Kids might’ve gotten it into their head to go after Sophie as a way of standing up for their buddy.”

“That’s an interesting theory,” James said. “I would also think the kids would be upset that Foley killed their other classmates. I know teenagers can be impulsive, but I’m not sure how going after Sophie’s car benefit’s anyone.”

“It’s a conundrum.”

James smirked. “Nice word. Have you been looking at your Word-of-the-Day toilet paper again?”

“Ha, ha,” Grady intoned. “Just to be on the safe side, I’m going to grab a couple of cameras and put them up at the house until this passes. I don’t want to risk anything.”

“That’s probably a good idea,” James said, nodding. “Do you want any other help?”

“Peter is going to put a man on the street – which Sophie was thrilled about, by the way – so I think we’ll be fine there.”

“I don’t think most people would jump from vandalizing a car to threatening a person, but I’m glad you’ll have backup,” James said. “What else is wrong?”

“What makes you think something else is wrong?”

“You’ve got your serious face on,” James answered. “I can tell something is bothering you. Now, we could do what we usually do and I could watch you pout for two hours until you finally can’t take it and you tell me what’s going on, or you can just tell me now and save me the headache.”

“Something weird happened with Peter this morning,” Grady said, taking James by surprise with his fortitude.

“He didn’t threaten to make you disappear if you didn’t stop doing the nasty with his daughter, did he?”

“This is serious,” Grady said, refusing to crack a smile. “I told him about the boxes of Sophie’s stuff. What I haven’t told you yet is that Sophie had a good reaction to the photo and then had a terrible reaction to the jewelry box.”

“I’m going to need more details than that.”

“She didn’t want to touch it,” Grady said. “She looked horrified by the prospect. It was like the box turned into a giant spider or something.”

“That’s weird, I agree, but this is probably emotional for Sophie,” James said. “Maybe it just got to be too much for her and she needed a break.”

“That’s what I thought at first, too,” Grady said. “Then I told Peter what happened and he couldn’t get out of the house fast enough. He told me I would regret digging into this and to leave it alone.”

“Huh,” James muttered, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck. “What do you think that means?”

“I have no idea,” Grady said. “I desperately want to look in that jewelry box, but I fought the urge. I can’t invade Sophie’s privacy twice in the same week. It’s killing me, though.”

“Well, I’m proud of you for refraining from being a douche,” James said. “Give Sophie time. I’m willing to place a substantial wager that she’ll tell you what’s bothering her if you give her enough time to come to the decision on her own.”

“Well … .”

“Oh, man. What did you do?”

“I wasn’t a douche about the jewelry box,” Grady said. “I needed something else to keep my mind busy while I was waiting for the car shop to pick up Sophie’s car, though, so I … um … did something worse.”

“I can’t wait to hear this.”

“I ran Sophie through our search software,” Grady admitted.

“What? Why?”

“Because it occurred to me that not everything in that storage locker was from Sophie’s parents,” Grady replied. “She had other foster homes before Peter, and while she’s never been overly chatty about them, I got the feeling they weren’t great places to live.

“The thing is, Sophie has never spoken in anything other than glowing terms when it comes to her parents,” he continued. “She clams up when I ask about the other foster homes, though. I thought there was an off chance the jewelry box was from one of the foster homes.”

“I’m not sure how you made that leap.”

“That’s not a small child’s jewelry box,” Grady said. “It was velvet with little sequins on it. That was more of a teenager’s jewelry box … or even like a tween’s jewelry box.”

“Okay, I can kind of see that,” James said, rolling his neck until it cracked. “You’re saying you think she’s hiding something horrible that happened to her at one of these foster homes. Do you really want to crack that door open in case it’s something … really bad?”

Grady knew exactly what his brother was getting at. “I don’t know,” he said. “I shouldn’t have run the search, and yet I did.”

“Well, it’s done,” James said. “You never have to tell her. We can put it behind us.”

“Yeah, that’s easier said than done,” Grady said. “I found something.”

James’ eyebrows flew up his forehead. “What?”

“I found a sealed file from when she was ten,” Grady said. “It was sealed by the family court system and I don’t have the authorization to open it.”

“Oh, Grady,” James muttered, shaking his head. “You’ve really fouled this one up.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.”