Her footsteps falter behind me and I’m both hopeful and terrified she might turn back.
“I would never do that to you.” It’s the last thing she says, her small voice barely audible, before the door slams shut.
The phone keeps vibrating in my pocket. It rang from the moment I left the cabin, but my rage kept me focused on the person I wanted to find and punish.
“Finally!” Jackie exhales on the other end. “We’ve been trying to reach you all morning. Joe is on the line.”
“I saw the news,” I tell her before she starts her rant.
“I’m sorry, Carter,” she says, and the worry and stress in her voice are unmistakable. “It was one of the nurses at the rehabilitation center.”
The ground runs from under my feet and I slump on Eliza’s couch, a different kind of ache spreading its tendrils around my chest.
“I can’t believe this,” I croak out.
“Our investigator traced the source to one of the temporary nurses.”
Fuck. I screwed up.
“But she was not the only source.” This time disgust laces Jackie’s words. “Pierre gave Fred Pierson the bits he needed to start digging.”
Adam warned me. “She didn’t know anything. What—”
“Your little girlfriend put two and two together. She’s not stupid.”
“I’ve never had anything to do with her outside the office!” I defend myself.
Jackie sights, exhaustion bleeding into her voice. “Either way, she was worried about you and thought sharing notes with Fred would give her some answers. The fucker duped her like a first grader.”
“We’ll handle things. Don’t do anything stupid in the meantime.” Joseph’s voice comes down like a hammer.
“Too late for that,” I sigh.
“What did you do?” Jackie asks.
I tell her and she snaps, Joseph’s groans in the background not helping. “How convenient. You received an anonymous photo exactly when the news broke.”
“It made sense,” I defend myself.
“For an idiot, maybe!” she yells, and I don’t think I’ve ever heard her so agitated in my life. “Send Derrick the number and the data with the photo.” Jackie pauses and takes a deep breath. “Although I wouldn’t get my hopes up.”
Silence fills the house and my thoughts spiral out of control until Joseph’s voice reminds me he’s also on the call.
“Who’s Eliza?”
I crash back on the comfortable couch, the memories of nights spent with Eliza in the same spot filling me with regret.
“A wonderful woman who might want me dead.”
“Ah, so your future wife.” He chuckles but it does nothing to ease the increasing pressure against my ribs.
“Let’s not. I’m not in the mood for your jokes.”
“Who said I’m joking?”
This is not the time to dive into it with him, so I change the subject. “How’s my mother? I didn’t get to call her.”
“Of course, because you were too busy accusing an innocent woman of selling the story to the press. I’m more interested in the fact you told her.” Before I can say anything, he continues. “She’s fine. Worried about how you’ll react. Blaming herself for not convincing you to release a statement after it happened.”
