“Is it legal?”William asks, sounding nervous.
“It’s God’s work,”Uncle Aaron replies.“We need to trust in His wisdom. His laws are not our laws, William. His ways are not our ways.”
“I understand, but?—”
Uncle Aaron interrupts him, sounding irritated.“I must have been mistaken. I thought I was working with a godly man.”
“You are! Aaron. You are. Just ... let me wrap my head around it?—”
I cut it off there. I don’t need to hear anymore to know this will be important to Morrie. I send the clip to him, all the while wondering—why would Uncle Aaron keep a record of that conversation? Scanning over the folder, I see at least a dozen other voice memos, presumably all with similar types of content. Why hold on to things that could incriminate him as easily as any of the people with whom he was working?
Blackmail.Maybe I’ve been spending too much time with FBI agents now, but the answer comes to me pretty quickly. If any of his associates caught him embezzling, or tried to put a stop to anything he was doing, he had proof of their complicity, however reluctant or minor, to keep them quiet.
Disgusted, sad, enraged for these poor people who put so much blind trust into Aaron, I click on another of the voice files at random, dreading what I’m about to hear but hoping it might hold some further proof that will ensure Aaron pays for his crimes.
And I was right to dread it, I realize as the audio clip starts playing.
Because what I hear changes everything.
Chapter 39
Wes
As I approach the Green Valley Community Center with Morrie, I’m surprised to see how crowded the parking lot is. When the producers informed me they’d be filming my family meet and greet with Harmony at a community center, I thought maybe they’d blown all their budget on flannel and had to downsize. In my experience, community centers are usually heartfelt but ramshackle, rundown little places.
This place doesn’t fit into that category, though. It’s bustling and vibrant and feels like it might truly be the heart of the community.
I turn to Morrie, raising my eyebrows in surprise. “This place is hopping!”
“It’s supposed to be the best-kept secret of Green Valley,” he confides to me, like he’s someone who’s in the know about all the country’s hot spots and he didn’t just read this information on some blog.
(Don’t let his exterior fool you. Morrie is a blog fiend. For all the guff he gives me about my obsessions, I’ve never seen someone get more excited about an alert from Medium.)
“Claire McClure got her start here, you know,” Morrie adds, nodding at me meaningfully. No shade to whoever Claire McClure is, but unless she’s in a bagpipe band or stars in a TV series with dragons in it, I’m pretty clueless about the wider world of celebrity.
Seeming deflated by my lack of enthusiasm, Morrie goes back into business mode. He motions to my ear, where a small earpiece is hidden. “Let’s check it out one last time.”
On the off chance that I somehow wind up alone with Aaron Miller, we’re recording the conversation in case he says something incriminating. Hey, stranger things have happened, right? Just think about what Robert Durst admitted while he thought he was unmiked in the bathroom.
“Sure thing.” I wait for Morrie to round the corner of the building before clearing my throat. “You still with me, Papa Bear?” I murmur.
Morrie’s voice comes through on my end, sounding both clear and disarmingly close. “I’m begging you to stop calling me that.”
“Mama Bear it is,” I return without missing a beat. “Or would you prefer Baby Bear? I could shorten it just to Baby. Babe. Whatever makes you comfortable.”
“Shut up, Ackerman,” Morrie grumbles. “There’s something seriously wrong with you ...”
We approach the doors to the community center, and I exchange one last glance with Morrie as ourselves, before we become Nate R. and his producer, “Chris.” This is a big moment. And looking at Morrie, I’m reminded that I’m not the only one who’s been putting my life on hold to try and bring Aaron Miller to justice. For all our differences, I wouldn’t trust anyone but Morrie to be here at my side.
I can tell Morrie is feeling something similar, even though he’d never admit it in a million years. Underneath all of his grumbling, he really does love me. Sweet little Baby Bear.
“You good?” Morrie asks.
My heart is racing. My hands are clammy. But I nod. “Yep. Let’s do it ...”
Morrie lets himself inside to alert the film crew we’ve arrived so they can get ready for the shot. After waiting a couple minutes as instructed, I step through.
It’s difficult to ignore all the cameras in my face, along with all the people staring. Production crew, mostly, but there are also a ton of extras here tonight. Onlookers who will be making up the crowd, as well as some musicians up on stage. They’re all Green Valley residents, from the look of them. I’ll give you one guess how I can tell. In the crowd are a few faces I recognize, like Lyle andSienna and Rae and the woman from the bakery. I try my best to tune them out and to focus on?—
