Nadine looked over at the desk. Wes was right, but it was so difficult. She was scared.
“We can’t do anything now,” she said, wanting some distance to think. “Let’s sleep on it and talk about it in the morning.”
“Okay.” He draped his arm around her shoulders so her head was tucked against him. “In the morning. Do you have anything in mind to pass the time?”
“There’s that crokinole board in the game room,” she said. “We could play.”
Wes lost two games before they moved on to other, more interesting games where neither of them could lose. It helped pass the time even better.
Thirty-nine
Nadine liked to start the morning by glancing through the thirty-plus browser tabs on her favorites bar to make sure all was right but was usually wrong with the world. Celebrity news she scanned religiously but with some shame at her emotional investment in the latest red carpet outfits. Today she spent an ungodly amount of time trying to decide if there were monthly meetings where Hollywood stylists all voted on the color de jour, because every second star was in pine green. Next were her favorite obituary sites. What would Dot have made of the woman who got her first tattoo at the age of ninety, telling her grandkids that she’d always wanted one? Probably cheered her on.
She also made sure to check theHerald’s competitor websites, such as theSpear, which was why she was the first one to see the story. As Wes slept beside her, face buried in his pillow and Erma curled in the small of his back flicking the occasional ear in Nadine’s direction, she stared at the web page, unable to believe her eyes.
Political scandal unearthed by literary connection, read the headline. By Tyler Dawlish. In tiny font wasresearch contributor Wes Chen.
“Wes. Wes!” She shook his shoulder.
“What?” He sat up bleary-eyed as Erma leapt off with a disgruntled hiss. “Are you okay?”
“No! What the hell is going on?” She passed from shock to fury. “After we talked about this? I said I’d think about it, but you already had plans to run the story? We don’t have the details of what happened.”
Wes held his hand up. “Am I dreaming?” he asked in a groggy voice. “What happened to the dog riding the shark? Did she win the surf contest?”
“Shark ride this.” She shoved her laptop in his face and got up, feeling at a disadvantage to be lying in bed. “How could this happen?”
The color in Wes’s face collected into two red spots high in his cheeks. He scrolled to the bottom before lifting his gaze. Immediately she knew he had no more clue than she did.
“This wasn’t me,” he said. “I don’t know why my name is on it.”
“I know it’s not. Of course it isn’t. It’s missing information we have. Sorry for losing it. I was surprised.” She rested her hand on him for a moment in apology before taking her laptop back. “The question is how Tyler what’s-his-face got this and why his name is on it. You said you only gave him a vague outline. You’re sure you didn’t mention Wilson?”
“No.” He frowned. “I only told him it involved Dot and a senator…” He trailed off. “My files.”
“The ones you left at work?” Despite the heat in the house, Nadine felt cold. She wrapped her arms around her chest. This was a bad situation.
“I left them on my desk with a printout of my draft.” He looked sick. “Tyler must have gone through them. Oh my… Wait here.”
He ran out of the room, and Nadine took the opportunity to find some clothes. She was fully dressed by the time Wes came back with his own laptop open and typing with one hand.
“Thank God I didn’t mention Matt White by name in that draft,” hesaid. “I might be looking at a pair of concrete shoes. It just says ‘criminal elements.’ How quaintly 1950s of Tyler.”
Nadine closed her eyes. “Surely Tyler wouldn’t be so reckless even if Matt’s name was in it.”
“You’d be surprised,” Wes said darkly.
“It says John Wilson didn’t answer an email with questions,” said Nadine.
“Tyler’s method is to give someone about ten minutes to reply. Chances are Wilson didn’t see it before the deadline.” He sat beside her. “I can’t believe that asshole.”
“I can because I’m looking at the story.” Nadine rubbed her temples.
“At least you’re not mentioned,” said Wes. “TheHeraldwon’t connect you to this.”
“What about you?” Dread replaced the anger. “Your name is on it.”
He shook his head. “I don’t know how Tyler did this, but it can’t come back on me. I never submitted it, and it wasn’t approved. The story wasn’tdone.” They sat for a few minutes, looking at the screen as Wes scrolled through again. “How did this get through editing?” he asked. “It was published an hour ago.”
