All of Me (The Bridesmaids Club Book 1) (21 page)

Logan had been waiting for Jilly to say something all night. “From The Bridesmaids Club?”

She nodded. “When she was modeling her name was Theresa Daniels. I knew I’d seen her face before. She’s been on every major fashion magazine cover in the world.”

Logan kept eating his apple crumble. He wondered what else Jilly had found out.

“Has she ever said anything about her career?”

“Not that I can remember.”

Jilly watched him dip his spoon into the ball of half-melted vanilla ice cream on the side of his plate. “If I tell you something, you’ve got to promise you’ll keep it to yourself.”

Logan had already promised Tess the same thing, so he didn’t have a problem with Jilly’s request. “I won’t say a word.”

Jilly looked over her shoulder. She moved closer when the conversation at the table behind them petered out. “A friend of Theresa’s died of a drug overdose. There were no formal charges laid, but it sounds as though Theresa was involved in what happened.”

He couldn’t blame Jilly for jumping to conclusions. She hadn’t had much time to look at what else had been happening when Tess’ friend had died. But a part of him was disappointed that she’d been so quick to accept what someone else said. He’d expected more from her.

“Have you spoken to anyone? Verified what you’ve heard?”

Jilly reached for her bag and pulled out a notebook. Not the electronic variety, but the old-fashioned paper and pen variety. She flicked through the pages and settled on a particular section. “I called the modeling agency Theresa worked with. They haven’t spoken to her since she left three years ago. They gave me her old address in New York.”

“Are you going to fly out there?”

“Not on this vacation. Besides, there’s no point. The building she lived in has been converted into high-end apartments. Nothing like the shoe boxes someone at the agency told me she lived in. But that’s small beans compared to the other person I’ve been speaking to.”

Logan dreaded to think about what Jilly had been up to. He just hoped she hadn’t contacted the Senator’s ex-wife. Marcie Gibson was looking for anything that would prove, beyond a doubt, that her ex-husband was a drug dealer and cheat. Three years ago, Tess didn’t have any evidence to back up her complaint to the police. Marcie had the evidence, but Tess didn’t want her name connected with the Senator.

If Jilly talked to Marcie Gibson, Tess’ cover would be blown and everyone would know what had happened. As soon as the story hit the headlines it would be picked up by every newspaper in the country. Tess’ life wouldn’t be the same again.

Jilly leaned forward. “Have you heard of Senator Andrew Gibson?”

Logan was glad a waitress came across and asked if they’d like coffee. It distracted Jilly, gave him time to think. If the Senator knew a reporter was digging into his past, he’d use every trick he knew to shut her down.

He hoped like crazy Jilly hadn’t spoken to the man himself. “Doesn’t he represent California?”

“You know your politicians.” Jilly sounded impressed.

“His name’s been in the paper once or twice.”

Jilly leaned forward. “I spoke with his previous press secretary. She resigned suddenly three years ago. The word going around town was that she didn’t like how the Senator responded to allegations of drug use and improper behavior. The person I spoke to said she got a massive confidential payout.”

“Did she sign a non-disclosure form?”

Jilly shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t need her to back up my story or give me names.” She looked over her shoulder again. The other couple had left. “The Senator has been having affairs for years. Some people think his wife knew about them, but I’m not so sure. Anyway, about three years ago he hit the headlines with a story about his involvement in the death of a model. She died from a drug overdose. A friend of the dead woman said Senator Gibson was giving the model cocaine. Guess who the friend was?”

The waitress reappeared with their coffee. Logan waited until she’d left. “I’ve got no idea.”

Jilly sent him a sharp look. “You think I’m making this up?”

“No. But I think you could be in over your head if you write the story.”

“Theresa Daniels, also known as Tess Williams, is the person who went to the police.”

Logan picked up his coffee cup. “What happened to Tess after the story broke?”

“She lost major contracts and disappeared from the modeling scene. Until now, no one knew where she’d gone.”

“Does that set warning bells off in your head?”

Jilly frowned. “I’m a reporter. I hear a bell and I know I’m heading in the right direction.”

“I want you to listen carefully to me, Jilly. You’ve been writing for the lifestyle section of the paper. I can’t imagine there are many stories that have the potential to destroy someone’s life. Tess and the Senator’s Press Secretary left their careers after the drug story broke. Do you honestly think Senator Gibson will let you bury him in mud in an election year?”

“I’m not interested in what Senator Gibson will do. If he had anything to do with the model’s death, he needs to be held accountable.”

“Before you do anything, you need to have a really hard think about the consequences of going any further.”

Jilly’s lips clamped together. She wasn’t impressed with his advice. Five years ago, he probably would have been the same. But time and a whole lot more experience had taught him a valuable lesson. The truth wasn’t always what it seemed. And sometimes, telling the truth had more lethal consequences than keeping quiet.

“Something tells me, Logan Allen, that you know more than you’re saying.”

“What I know or don’t know isn’t important. Forget about Tess for a minute. What do you think this story will mean for your career?”

“Professional recognition. A promotion, maybe a new job in a bigger city.”

“It could also get you fired, or at the very least, demoted. The police couldn’t prove anything last time. You need to have water-tight evidence before you even consider taking a story to your editor and the paper’s legal team.”

Jilly titled her chin. “I’m not scared of a story.”

“Maybe you should be.”

“I can’t believe you just said that. You’ve won three awards. A Pulitzer Prize. Your columns are syndicated to newspapers across the country. You don’t get that type of recognition by writing about the ten most popular paint colors of the year. You’re lying to yourself if you think you wouldn’t follow this story.”

“I’m not following the story because it could hurt far more people than the Senator. Leave the people that are involved to come up with the evidence and go to the police.”

“What have you found out?”

Logan sat back in his chair. He felt far too old and jaded to be having this conversation with Jilly. She still had high ideals and an ambitious streak that could take her to the top of her career or sink her like a stone.

He’d promised Tess he wouldn’t say anything, and he’d keep his promise. But if Jilly wrote a story, Tess would have to do something fast.

“Leave the story alone, Jilly.”

“Are you giving me that advice as a friend or a colleague?”

In the past, Logan had treated the line between friendship and work with a blurry grayness when it suited him. But he wasn’t that person anymore. “My worry about your safety comes as a friend. As a colleague, I’m telling you to be very careful. Senator Gibson won’t take your accusations lightly. He’ll come after you and won’t leave you alone until you’re either gone from the paper or charged with defamation.”

Jilly picked up her bag. “I’m willing to take that risk. I’ll pay for dinner on my way out.”

Logan watched her walk toward the reception desk. He didn’t like what Senator Gibson had done any more than Jilly did. The only person with enough evidence to put him away was his ex-wife. Until she was ready to go to the police, Jilly didn’t have enough information to force a conviction. And with no conviction, her career and the life Tess had built were in danger of being destroyed.

He turned his cell phone on. He needed advice from someone who knew how to keep people safe. And Dylan was the only person he knew that could help.

Chapter Nine

“You do know what the time is, don’t you?” Dylan stood in his living room, scratching his head.

“I know, but I couldn’t leave it until the morning.” Logan walked across to the kitchen and turned the coffee machine on. “You don’t mind, do you?”

“I could have had a woman in here,” Dylan grumbled. “We could have been having wild monkey sex. What would you have done then?”

“Made myself at home while you died from exhaustion.”

Dylan grunted, then flopped down on the sofa. “You can make coffee for me, too. What’s so important that it couldn’t wait until the morning?”

Logan pulled a couple of coffee mugs out of the pantry and told Dylan about Tess, Jilly, and the Senator.

“You’ve got yourself more than a handful of problems.”

“You could say that. What do you think I should do?”

Dylan stretched his legs out in front of him and looked at the pink curtains hanging from the window. The house he was living in was a rental. Logan knew he’d taken it sight unseen from a realtor when he’d first moved to Bozeman. It was supposed to have been an in-between step until he decided whether he wanted to rent or buy. But apart from the pink curtains, it had suited Dylan, so he’d stayed.

Until recently, Dylan had appreciated the solitude that living out of town gave him. But solitude didn’t work too well when you were looking for a girlfriend. So he’d started looking for a house closer to town, somewhere he could bring his dream date back to. Logan had no idea what would happen once she got there, but that was up to Dylan.

Dylan took the mug Logan held out to him. “Sit down and tell me more about the Senator’s ex-wife. She’s the one with the power to blow this story right through to the White House.”

Logan sat down and told Dylan what he knew about Marcie Gibson. “She’s ambitious. Senator Gibson’s lawyers tied her into a prenup she wasn’t happy about. She wants revenge, but she wants his money as well. She’s fighting their divorce settlement with everything she’s got.”

“Where’s the copy of the Senator’s hard drive?”

Logan frowned. “I don’t know. She said it’s somewhere safe.”

“She’d better hope it is. If her ex-husband finds out she’s got it, he’s not going to be happy. What does she look like?”

“Tall, brunette, big green eyes. She won the Miss Virginia contest six years ago.”

“Photogenic?”

Logan nodded. “She’s stunning, if you like that sort of woman.”

Dylan drank his coffee. “I’ve got an idea, but you might not like it.”

“Try me.”

“Talk to Marcie before Jilly finds her. Convince her to let you write a story. Get professional photos taken of her looking sad and unhappy, real tear-jerker stuff. Publish the story, then make sure she goes to the police. Once the story hits the headlines, the police won’t be able to ignore her allegations, especially with the evidence she’s got.”

“What about, Tess?”

“If Tess gets caught up in the fiasco, Mrs. Ex-Senator will be lucky to get a mention. From what you’ve said, that will be the last thing Marcie wants.”

“It’s the last thing Tess wants, too.”

“Keep Tess out of it. Don’t mention her name. It might be good if she goes on vacation when the story’s about to break.”

“Jilly and Tess are going to hate me.”

Dylan stared at him. “Who are you most worried about?”

“Tess.”

“Look out for her, then. Jilly will eventually forgive you.”

“Yeah. In about fifty years’ time.”

Dylan didn’t look remotely concerned. “It’s better than Tess hating you.”

“She’ll do that, anyway.” Logan knew that whatever happened, Tess wouldn’t be talking to him. If he didn’t get to Marcie Gibson tomorrow, Jilly would be publishing a story that would land Tess in the spotlight.

He had to decide what to do, and it had to be tonight.

Dylan walked out of the room and came back a few minutes later. He had a pillow and a duvet in his arms. “Here…” He threw the whole lot on the sofa beside Logan. “If you’re not going to get much sleep you might as well stay here. At least I’ll know you haven’t crashed on the way home.”

“Thanks.”

“Don’t worry about it. You might need to repay the favor one day. If you wake up with a pillow over your head, it’s because you’re snoring like a train.”

“Nice to be appreciated.”

Dylan snorted and left him on the sofa. “I’m going to bed. Don’t wake me up when you leave.”

They both knew that wouldn’t happen. Dylan slept for about as many hours a night as Logan did. Between them, they were almost normal. He could guarantee that four-thirty would roll around and they’d both be up, drowning their sorrows in the biggest mug of coffee they could find.

And right at the moment, that thought was more comforting than what he had to tell Tess in the morning.