Heart of the Matter (16 page)

Chapter Sixteen

S
he’d been looking for her father for hours without success. Amanda’s stomach churned as she picked up her cell phone to try once more. Why wasn’t he picking up? If she didn’t get to him in time to stop that story from going to press…

The call went immediately to messages. Gritting her teeth, she ended the call. Little point in adding yet another “where are you?” to the ones she’d already recorded.

She crossed her tiny living room in five steps and stared out the front window, catching a group of tourists with cameras pointed in her direction.

Letting the curtain fall between them, she took a deep breath. A few tourists was nothing compared to the crowd that would descend on Mamma and Daddy’s house if that story ran. She couldn’t let that happen.

She picked up the phone again. Time to bring in the big guns. She hadn’t wanted to call Mamma, fearing her mother would read the anxiety in her tone, but she couldn’t waste any more time, not when her mental clock ticked away the hours until the paper went to press.

“Mamma? Hi, it’s Manda.”

“Sugar, what’s goin’ on with you? How about comin’ over for supper tomorrow? I’m making Brunswick stew.”

“That sounds great, Mamma. Maybe I will.” Or maybe they’d all be too busy dealing with fallout to eat. “Right now I need to get hold of Daddy. He’s not picking up his cell phone. Do you know where he is?”

“Goodness, I…I don’t know. He had to go out this evening, but I don’t believe he said…”

“Mamma, this is important.” She couldn’t keep up the facade that was just a casual call, not when the need for action pounded in her brain and tightened every muscle. “Where is he?”

“Sugar, you make it sound like life and death.” A thread of uneasiness laced her mother’s voice.

She took a breath and sent up a wordless prayer that she wasn’t making things worse. “It’s important. You and Daddy don’t keep secrets from each other, no matter what he says. Whatever he’s involved in, the newspaper is about to blow it wide-open. I’ve got to get to him.”

Silence for a long moment. “He’s at Battery Park, meeting with…someone.”

She suppressed the urge to press for more answers. Time enough for that once she’d found Daddy. “Thanks, Mamma.” She hung up and darted for the door.

A few minutes later she was pulling into a parking space bordering the park. She could have walked, but if she missed Daddy here, she’d waste time running back for her car. She stepped up the high curb and stood on the sidewalk, surveying the park.

Battery Park, covering the end of the peninsula that was Charleston, was a popular tourist destination, but by now most of them had probably headed for dinner or back to their hotels to put their feet up. Stilling her nervous impulse to rush through the park, she stood where she was, scanning the area methodically.

No sign of him, and her heart sank. Time was running out. If she—

There he was, leaning against the wall, looking out over the water toward Fort Sumter. Another man stood next to him. Not, she realized with relief, the contractor who’d been in the photo Ross showed her.

She hurried across the grass toward them, her heartbeat quickening as she approached. How did she say this? How could she tell her father that the world was about to hear he was a liar and a thief?

The other man saw her first, and she saw the quick flare of recognition in his eyes before he turned away to point out in the general direction of Sullivan’s Island.

How did he know who she was? She’d never seen him before. Casually dressed, middle-aged. Military, she thought automatically. When you were around it all the time, you knew.

“Daddy.”

He turned around. “Amanda. What are you doing here?”

“Looking for you. We have to talk.”

The other man spoke up. “Thanks for the sightseeing tips. I’ll be sure to check out the places you mentioned.”

“What? Oh, yes.” Daddy was rattled. “Glad I could be of help.”

Too late, she thought. She’d seen that betraying look of recognition. Whatever was going on, this was no casual meeting. This man was in on it.

“It’s no good,” she said. “I know.”

“Honey, now’s not a good time. How about I stop by your place in a little bit, okay?”

She shook her head. There was nothing to do but come out with it.

“The
Bugle
is after you,” she said flatly. “They’re running a story in tomorrow’s paper. They’ve got a picture of you at the festival taking money from some contractor.” She got it all out on a rush of words and came to a stop, feeling as if she’d been running.

Her breath caught in her throat. Daddy looked dismayed. Not guilty, thank the good Lord. Just unhappy with the news she’d brought.

She grasped his hand, feeling the strength of it close around hers as it had when she was a little girl. She blinked back tears.

“I know you didn’t do anything wrong. You couldn’t have. But unless you do something to stop it, all Charleston is going to read about that in tomorrow’s paper.”

Still holding her hand, her father looked at the other man. “What do you think?”

For a moment the man’s face tightened in denial. Then he shrugged. “I guess we’d better go down to the newspaper and resolve this.”

“That’s it, then.” Ross stared across the width of the office at Cyrus, the weight of the decision pressing on him. “I’ll…”

The rap on the door gave him a welcome respite. “Come in,” he called, despite Cyrus’s frown.

Brett Bodine stalked in, followed by another man—lean, graying, with a closed face that gave nothing away.

Bodine, with his flushed face and clenched jaw, was easier to read. He’d like to take Ross’s head off.

Ross thrust his chair backward as he rose. If Bodine thought he could intimidate the press—

The thought broke off when he saw who else was there. Amanda. A quick glance was all he could allow himself, but even that was like a blow in the gut.

Cyrus took a step forward, the light of battle in his eyes. “If you’re here to talk us out of the story, you’ve come to the wrong place.”

Bodine’s hands curled into fists, but before he could speak, the other man interrupted, pulling an ID from his pocket. “This isn’t precisely what you think, gentlemen.”

He held it out to Cyrus. Whatever it was, it stopped him cold. He looked, grunted, and passed it to Ross with an air of handing the situation over to him.

“Agent Baker.” He let the realization sink in. “What’s the federal government want from the
Bugle?
”

Baker permitted himself the briefest of smiles. “Ordinarily, nothing. But Ms. Bodine told us about the story you plan to break.”

He couldn’t prevent his gaze from slipping to Amanda. She hadn’t known about the federal agent, he could see that.

He forced his focus back to the agent, preparing to negotiate. This was familiar territory, after all. He’d often played the game of getting as much information as possible from tight-lipped officials.

“And what exactly is your interest in our story?”

“We’d prefer that you refrain from printing it.”

Ross sensed Cyrus’s feathers ruffling at that, but the older man kept silent. With a little luck, he’d let Ross handle this.

“I’m afraid we can’t accommodate you.” Ross’s mind worked furiously, trying to sort out the possibilities. Bodine might be cooperating with the feds, ready to give up his fellow conspirators. In that case, they could be playing for time.

“I’m not trying to pressure you, Mr. Lockhart. Only to prevent the
Bugle
and you from making an embarrassing mistake.”

Ross stiffened at the expression, but kept a slight smile pinned to his face. It was all part of the elaborate dance, with Baker determined to give away as little as possible while Ross was equally set on getting the whole story.

“It’s good of you to be concerned for the
Bugle,
but you’ll have to convince us with facts.”

“Tell him and be done with it,” Bodine snarled. “He’s not going to cooperate for less.”

“Daddy…” Amanda began, and then stopped, hands moving in a small gesture of helplessness.

The gesture seemed to clutch his heart. For a moment he could barely breathe for the desperate need to protect her.

Agent Baker shrugged. “You realize that this is off-the-record.” He looked from Cyrus to Ross. Seeming satisfied with their nods, he went on. “Several months ago, we received a report of possible irregularities in the awarding of contracts at the Coast Guard base here. The report came from Brett Bodine.”

A small gasp escaped Amanda.

“We investigated.” Baker went on as if he hadn’t heard. “With his assistance, we were able to identify the officer involved.”

The facts Ross thought he knew flew into the air, rearranged themselves and came down in a new pattern. “But the meeting with Winchell. The packet of money.”

“Not money,” Baker said. “We’ve managed to persuade Mr. Winchell to cooperate with us. He handed over a list of the deals made by the officer.”

Bodine’s expression tightened, if that was possible, and Ross understood. The man was in pain at the idea that someone under his command had abused his position.

“We need you to kill the story until we’ve completed our investigation,” Baker said. “I can assure you, it’s in your country’s best interest.”

“Who is the guilty party?” Ross planted both hands on the desk. Baker had to give them more than that.

“I can’t tell you that.”

“You can give us an exclusive,” Ross countered. “If we don’t jump the gun on you, that’s the least you can do.”

Baker’s noncommittal mask was probably hiding some furious calculating. How far could he go?

“Forty-eight hours,” he said at last. “You don’t mention anything in the press for forty-eight hours, and we’ll give you a couple hours’ head start on the story. That’s the best I can do.”

“It’s a deal,” Cyrus said, clearly unable to contain himself any longer.

“Good.” Baker shook hands briskly, first with Cyrus, then with him. “We’ll be in touch.”

Bodine took the hand Cyrus extended. For Ross, he had nothing but a furious glare. And Amanda…tears had spilled over, trickling down her cheeks.

Bodine and Baker turned to the door, Cyrus behind them, probably trying to get another fragment or two about the story.

He didn’t bother to listen. All he could see, all he could think of, was Amanda. He reached out, not quite daring to touch her.

“Amanda, please. Stay. Just for a moment.”

Her father spun at the words. “My daughter has nothing to say to you.”

Amanda wiped away tears with the palm of her hand. “It’s all right, Daddy. I’ll be along in a few minutes.”

She closed the door behind them and turned to face him.

She didn’t want to stay. Amanda pressed her palms against the solid wood of the door behind her. Talking to Ross was only going to make the pain in her heart worse. But she wouldn’t be a coward about it.

Ross’s face was a taut mask, revealing nothing of the feelings behind it. If any. Did he feel anything but ambition? Want anything but success?

A cold shudder went through her. “There’s no point to this.” She turned away, groping for the doorknob.

“Wait. Please. You need to see something.”

She didn’t move.

“Please.” His voice softened to a husky rumble. “Just look at this, and I won’t ask you for anything more.”

She turned back slowly to face him, and he swung his computer screen toward her.

“Look. This is the front page of tomorrow’s edition, made up before we heard the agent’s story.”

She had to brace herself before she could look at it. Had to prepare herself to see the photo of Daddy. Above the fold, Cyrus had said.

She stared. Blinked. And took a step toward him, shaking her head to clear it.

“What? Where is it?” The lead story was a follow-up to the rescue. She leaned closer, scanning the page. Nothing. There was no mention of anything else to do with the Coast Guard Base.

She touched the screen, reading it through to be sure she wasn’t making any mistake. Then she looked up at Ross’s face.

“I don’t understand. You were going to run the story in tomorrow’s edition. Why did you give it up before you’d even heard the explanation? Did Cyrus change his mind?”

“Not Cyrus. I changed my mind. Cyrus…well, he went along with me in the end.”

Meaning Cyrus hadn’t wanted to. She tried to still the spinning of her mind. Tried to hold out against the hope that began to blossom inside her.

“You convinced him not to run the story. Why?”

He turned away slightly, as if he didn’t want her to see his face. His fingers pressed against the desktop until they were white.

“You.” He stopped, cleared his throat. “When I saw how much you were hurt, it forced me to take a good look at myself.” He darted a glance toward her. “I didn’t like what I saw. The man my grandmother had hoped I’d be—he’s pretty well buried by now, isn’t he?”

He didn’t seem to expect an answer to that, which was fortunate, because she didn’t have one.

“I’ve been blaming everyone else for what happened to me back in D.C., but the truth is that a major part of the blame falls squarely on me.”

That she could respond to. “Your friend betrayed you. That wasn’t your fault.”

“I’m the one who fell for it. I’m the one who rushed into print. I was too proud, too sure of myself.” The muscles in his neck moved convulsively. “I never stopped to ask myself whether I might be wrong.”

The chill that had gripped her heart began to fall away. Ross was taking down his protective barriers, piece by piece. He was letting her see who he really was.

“My grandmother expected me to become an honorable man who relied on God for guidance. Instead, I became a cynic who relied on nothing but his own ambition. That’s not who I want to be.”

He was facing her now, close enough that she could see the pain that darkened his eyes and twisted his lips.

“No,” she said softly. “It isn’t who you are, not really.” She tapped the computer screen. “You put your job on the line with Cyrus to delay the story, even before you knew the truth.”