“Holy shit. Are those reporters?” Autumn gasps.
I squint down at the end of the driveway, near the fence and sure enough there are five people and two cars and a god damn news truck. Two guys with cameras are snapping away. “Matt! Can you make them stop?” Autumn asks.
“I’m just a fuck wit,” Matt shoots back with a shrug.
“Let’s go inside before you have to arrest her,” I say, lifting a hand toward Autumn in a stop motion as I lead Matt up the porch stairs and pull open the screen door for him and his partner.
“I’ll handle this,” I hear Woody say just before the door closes behind us.
Inside Matt and his partner ask me a half hours’ worth of questions about my weed and what I do with it and if anyone has ever paid me for it. I answer it all honestly, because I’ve never accepted payment for it. I share it with friends, in the privacy of our own homes. I don’t distribute it. I even offer him the number of my therapist who treated me after my parents’ death, who was the person to recommend weed for my anxiety and insomnia. Finally, he closes his little notebook and sighs. “I don’t have enough evidence to arrest you. Today.”
“You sound disappointed by that, Matt,” I reply, trying not to sound as offended as I am.
He folds his arms across his chest. His partner sighs and speaks for him. “They’re pretty riled up about this at city hall.”
“The article is a slander piece, pure and simple,” I reply.
“Yeah. Looks that way,” Matt adds. “And I don’t want to arrest you, Bowen. I just want to do my job and not get my ass handed to me by my bosses because I don’t arrest you.”
“I’m not a drug dealer.”
“I think whoever fed the paper the info knows that,” the partner says. His name is Martinez and he’s older and oddly way more friendly and relaxed than Matt. For some reason I expected the opposite. “And they aren’t actually expecting you to get arrested. This isn’t about you. It’s about ruining your brother’s chances in this election.”
“And they’ve succeeded, haven’t they?” I feel that elephant of panic sitting on my chest again. We’ve invested everything into the election run. Everything. Woody can’t lose because of me.
“They’ve made a dent,” Martinez admits and stands up from where he’s been leaning against our kitchen countertop. “Look, kid, I’m not a political genius or anything but if I were you, I’d look for the source. Start with the names in the article and figure out who could have been on your farm and got the shots in the paper.”
“You’ve been stabbed in the back,” Matt adds. “Anyway, I also have to say don’t leave town. This investigation isn’t closed.”
Martinez rolls his eyes behind his partner’s back and leans in. “We might have to follow up with you is what Matt is trying to say in the most Bad Cop Movie way possible.”
I just nod. The humor is lost on me. There’s nothing funny about this. I follow them back through the house and out the front door. I’m relieved to see that the media appear to be gone, along with the other squad car and officers. Matt and Officer Martinez get into their car and leave without another word to any of us.
As soon as the car has left the driveway, Autumn breaks down in tears. She’s full-on sobbing and I walk over and hug her. “It’s okay. I’ve done nothing wrong.”
“I know that but the damage is done,” Autumn sniffles into my shirt. “Woody will never win now. We may lose the farm. People will still point and whisper at you for ages. We could even have the paper print a retraction and it won’t matter.”
“I don’t give a shit about whispers and stares, Autumn,” I reply. “And Woody won’t necessarily lose.”
“Can your PR friend Chase help us figure out how to minimize damage?” Woody wants to know. “I need all the help I can get.”
“Chase…” I let go of Autumn who is crying less and wiping at the tears that have fallen on her cheeks. “I never got to read the whole article. Can I see it again?”
Woody illuminates the screen on his phone and hands it to me. I read the whole thing. It says a concerned and legitimate source found what they believe to be a grow-op on our farm. The name of my plants is mentioned and the picture… well, the only person who I told the names to was Chase. He’s also mentioned in the article, as it goes on to mention my brother is running for mayor against Lacey Baldwin who has traditional ideas about marijuana distribution and comes from an upstanding political family and “is dating Chase Ashton son of staunch conservative congressman Charles Ashton.”
“I told you he was bad news,” Autumn’s uneven voice pulls my eyes from the screen. I realize I whispered that dating line out loud. “He is dating Lacey.”
“This article is full of lies,” I say, but my voice is weak. “It’s lying about me why would it be telling the truth about him?”
“If he is dating Baldwin, then he seems like the logical suspect in this, Bo.” Woody says. His eyes are filled with sympathy but his voice is hard with frustration. “You’ve been hanging out with him a lot.”
“I sent him to the shed to find you that night,” Autumn reminds me of the little fact that has been making me feel sick this entire time.
“Shit. Bowen…” Woody buries his hands in his messy blond hair. “I don’t think we should ask him for help on this. I don’t think we should ask him anything anymore.”
I swallow and the dust seems to have settled in my throat again. Along with a very large lump. I get up and dig my keys out of my pocket. The donuts are still sitting on the passenger seat so I open the door and hand them to Autumn. “I need to swing by work and make sure I’m still employed because the article mentions them. If I were Harrison, I would fire me.”
“He wouldn’t do that,” Autumn argues. “He’s smart enough to know slander when he sees it.”
