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Silence stretches between us.
“Did you make the calls you needed to make?” Shit, I should have activated the recording app.
“I didn’t. But I’m headed home now.”
To which home? He has many.
“Thank you for the heads up, though. Why did you do that?”
I go rigid. I can’t tell him why I did it without also reminding him of our past connection. And confessing the thing I’m still unsure I want him to know.
I change the subject, hoping he won’t press. “Is there anything you want to add to the article? There’s still time to slide something in if I need to.” I cringe at my shamelessness.
He goes quiet. “No…I…no, there’s nothing for me to add.” He needs to meet with his family lawyer first, I’m sure. “I’m sure you understand.”
“Of course.”
“But, there is one other thing I was hoping you’d consider.”
My stomach flips over itself. So, this call was more than just a thank youfor the heads up. “Okay, shoot.”
“Come with me.”
Come with him? Did…did I hear him right? “Come with you?”
“Yes, come home with me.”
“As in, to one of your homes?”
“As in, to my first home. Where I grew up. I’m headed to McDonough for the night.”
It’s an hour south of here. “To your Mom and Dad’s?”
“Yes.”
“Sorry, Jake, and don’t take this the wrong way, but why in the godforsaken hell would I do that?” I’m the journalist who wrote an exposé on his affluent southern family. Something that threatens to crumble their very foundation. And he wants me to come and socialize with them?
All that philandering has done a number on his reasoning abilities.
“I know. It sounds crazy.”
“It does.” If what Meaghan is saying is true, not only are they affluent, they’re fiercely, dangerously protective of their family name and future. I could end up dead and buried in their expansive backyard. Although, killing me now won’t stop anything. I’ve already handed the story over. It’s done. “Jake, if you’re thinking that would change my mind—”
“No, I know it’s happening.”
“Then what?”
“Don’t you want to get to know the people’s lives you’re writing about?”
In other words, the lives I’m ruining. He should know I don’t see it that way. Or at least, I’m trying not to see it that way. I’m a journalist. I report. “If things go south for you and your family, then that’s on all of you.” It means the police find evidence to back up Meaghan’s claims and convict them.
“So, is that a ‘no’? You don’t want to meet them, then?” He says it almost jokingly, and I bristle.
“This isn’t a joke, Jake.”
He clears his throat. “No, yes. Of course. I just…I figured you would want to. You know, an inside look.”
The human in me, the part that houses my sense of self-preservation, screams, danger!Don’t be an idiot! But, the reporter in me is intrigued. Could I get something useful to add to my Judas article? He’s offering, after all, and I have a boss to impress. And I’d be lying if I said there wasn’t also an incredibly small part of me that likes the idea of time with him.
