Truth (Scandals of Banner-Hill Book 1) Page 14

  “Truth or dare, Killian,” I repeat, cutting him off before he goes any further. With Killian, it’s hard to tell when he’s playing music because he can’t help himself versus when he’s doing it because he knows what it does to women.

  “Truth,” he answers.

  I glance away, looking out across the empty expanse of yard to the woods that are almost impossible to get away from at Banner-Hill. I’ve imagined before what it would be like to ask Killian this question. To finally know for sure if he capitalized on the worst night of my life without even the slightest bit of remorse.

  “Did you write Nightlights about Dash?”

  “No, it isn’t about Dash.” He pushes to his feet, a look in his eyes like he’s disappointed in me. “That’s your real problem, Natalie. Even when everything is about you, you always want to make it about him.”

  Killian walks away.

  And I stand there wondering how this stupid game has managed to fuck me once again.

  “What are you doing?” I barely glance at Siobhan as I tear through my underwear drawer, singularly focused on this one task once I return to my room.

  My hand closes around the key. I slip it into my pocket and slam the drawer closed. Turning to Siobhan and Sadie, I shake my head.

  “I came here to find something that would give me my freedom. Instead, I’ve spent almost two weeks feeling like a prisoner. Looking around every corner. People spying on me. Not knowing who to trust or what’s a trap. I am done asking questions without getting the answers I want.”

  Sadie raises an eyebrow, taking my mini-rant in stride.

  “And here we were debating whether Sadie should dye her hair pink again,” Siobhan jokes.

  The words have the desired effect of breaking the tension. I remember her dying her hair pink when we were teenagers. I’m pretty sure she did it back then just to piss off her parents. Most of the things teenagers do in rehab tend to be motivated by that goal.

  My body relaxes slightly with a laugh.

  For a second, both women just look at me. Maybe trying to decide how concerned they need to be about my mental state right now. I’m sure they didn’t realize what they were signing on for when they decided to take me in like a stray puppy.

  “Do you want backup?” Siobhan asks finally.

  I know if I say yes that they would be there, blindly supporting whatever my end goal may be. I also know that if I say yes and end up getting caught, I would never forgive myself for dragging them down with me.

  I remember enough about Sadie to know that she probably needs to be here, and I feel especially protective of her after what she revealed to me on visitation day. We’re bound together now by our grief. By the people we loved and lost. People who weren’t who we needed them to be—but that we loved anyway.

  So, “No.” The answer has to be no.

  By the time Siobhan opens her mouth to protest, I’m already closing the door between us. Let them stay and pour over the paperwork. That’s a hell of a lot safer than having them follow me into the staff hall in the middle of the day.

  Maybe it’s stupid.

  Okay, it’s definitely stupid.

  But I cannot survive another day here with zero answers. Either I find something in those filing cabinets, or I go home and find another way.

  “Hey!” I greet the therapist doing desk duty.

  Abel Cruise. The youngest therapist on staff and a total sucker for celebrity gossip. I’ve spent more than my fair share of time hiding out in my room, but when I’m out and about, I keep my ears open.

  Apparently, Cruise has a reputation for being easily distracted by spoilers. I overheard a couple TV stars trading notes.

  “Natalie!” He brightens, then winces. “Uh, Ms. Adams,” he corrects himself. “What can I do for you?” He cheeks redden as I give him my best rendition of a wide, innocent smile.

  I lean in and lower my voice like I’m trying to be discreet. “Well, I wasn’t sure if I should say anything or not. But those ladies from The Bad Wives Club are arguing out by the pool. It was getting a little heated and… Well, I’m a little worried it might get physical.”

  I’d feel bad about throwing the two trophy wives under the bus if they were anyone else. As it stands, those bitches have a habit of using social media to make waves.

  They might be the only two people in this world who actually like having people talk shit about them.

  As expected, Cruise’s eyes light up.

  “I’ll take care of it immediately. Thank you for letting me know.” I’ve never seen a grown man move as fast as he does to get around the desk.

  I wait until he’s well and truly out of view before slipping down the hall. It’s pure luck that I don’t cross paths with anyone else because I don’t really have any other cards to play at the moment.

  I’m quicker with the lock the second time around, slipping into the small room in half the time as last time.

  This time around, I study the filing cabinets more closely. I’m not sure how I didn’t notice before that there are scratches across the floor, like whoever moved them wasn’t careful. I shake my head to myself as I shove the key into the lock on the first cabinet. I pull open the bottom drawer to start with.

  Never in a million years could I prepare for what greets me.

  Stacks and stacks of crisp twenty dollar bills. I open the next drawer. Then the next. Each one filled with stacks of cash. Altogether, I can only estimate that there might be hundreds of thousands of dollars here. And that’s just one cabinet.

  I suddenly feel like I can’t breathe. My hand trembles around the top handle as I stare so hard at the open drawer that dark spots swim in my vision.

  I barely register the sound of the door opening behind me.

  “Dammit.”

  A firm body wraps around me, dragging me away from the drawer. Nick pulls me toward the center of the room and reaches around me to slam the door shut. I tremble against him as he shushes me. I didn’t even realize I was making noise.

  “Please tell me that’s not what I think it is.” My voice sounds foreign. Like it’s coming from somewhere far away.

  “I guess asking you to pretend you didn’t see it isn’t an option,” Nick mutters.

  I shake my head.

  He still hasn’t let me go. I guess all that shit about employees not touching patients is out the window now.

  I shut my eyes and think about everything I’ve survived since getting here. Everything I survived before. I’ve gone through so much to find something solid to take my father down. I can’t afford to turn into a little bitch about it now. The stakes are too high.

  I take the deepest breath I can muster and pull away from Nick. I don’t want to feel like the damsel in distress who needs someone to lean on. And considering he’s clearly involved in whatever this is, I don’t want to make myself an easy target, either.

  “It’s fake isn’t it?” I ask, my voice steadier now.

  Nick stares at me, his blue eyes filled with turmoil while he tries to come up with an answer for me. He’s going to lie, I know it before he even opens his mouth. I brace myself for whatever story he wants to try to sell me. I know what stacks of real money look like, and it’s not what’s in that drawer. Those bills are too neat, and no one would keep that much crisp cash around.

  “It’s just a bank deposit waiting to go out. It’s not as much as it look like. They’re mostly ones.” Each sentence comes out shorter and progressively less convincing than the one before it.

  I tick off the lies on my fingers. “The accountant keeps cash in an actual safe. There’s at least four drawers of bills, and I’m willing to bet those other cabinets are full of them, too. And no, those aren’t mostly ones.” I’m actually guessing on that last point, but when his face pales, I know I hit a home run.

  “Who else knows you’re here?” he asks, his voice tight.

  “I’m definitely not telling you that.” I already made the decision not to put Siobhan or S
adie at risk. I consider giving him Jack’s name, but I don’t want to risk anything getting back to Murphy until I know what exactly it is we’re dealing with.

  The less I involve my uncle at this point, the better.

  Nick puts his hands on his head and paces a few steps away from me. That’s as much distance he can put between us in this small room. When he looks at me again, I can’t help but feel badly for him. He doesn’t look well equipped for this kind of stress. I guess the yoga relaxation techniques can only go so far.

  “Natalie, if anyone finds out about this...” He trails off.

  “You lying to me doesn’t exactly inspire me to take your side here. You know that, right?” I cross my arms over my chest and point out, “I’m snooping around. Obviously I have some stakes here, too. Giving me some real answers is a good starting point, and then maybe we can go from there.”

  He looks reluctant, but he nods. “I was in uh, some trouble before I got this job. There were some small town politics that ran me out of my own studio, and the building owner isn’t exactly amiable to letting me out of my lease.”

  “So you need money,” I read between the lines.

  “At first, yeah.” He grimaces. “And then these guys approached me. Offered to pay off my lease and make some… other issues disappear for me.”

  “I know you can do better than that.” Actually, I’m surprised he’s given me this much.

  He grinds his toe against the tile floor. He looks so much like a little boy that it’s almost funny. The man’s considerably older than me but looking at me like he’s waiting for his punishment to be doled out. Whatever this mess is he’s wrapped up in, clearly he’s in way over his head.

  “There was a woman,” he admits.

  “And?”

  “The pastor’s wife. About as close to royalty as a person can get where I’m from.” His hands curl into fists for just a moment—so quick I could have blinked and missed it. “When her husband found out, she convinced him I’d forced myself on her. As if I didn’t have a whole town of desperate, single, former-debutants harassing me at every turn. I didn’t need to force myself on anyone.”

  I search for any signs that he’s lying. Sleeping with a pastor’s wife? It’s hard to picture. When he’s not scowling, he looks too much like a former altar boy to picture him seducing someone’s wife.

  The blonde hair, blue eyed look makes him seem more innocent than he is.

  No one admits to something like that if it isn’t true. But I think I’m missing a lot of pieces to this puzzle still.

  “If there were so many single women, why fall into bed with the pastor’s wife in the first place? Surely you knew that wouldn’t end well.”

  He laughs humorlessly.

  “No man in his right mind would have fucked around with Andrea Lewis.” He rubs a hand over his chin. “I’d just opened a yoga studio. Up until then, one of the housewives had been running some video-led classes at the church on weekends. People weren’t so receptive about a man wanting to take over.”

  It’s all starting to make a little more sense now.

  “Andrea wanted something she wasn’t getting from home. I’m sure I don’t have to spell that out for you. And in exchange, she was willing to give my classes her stamp of approval; the only thing that would get those women in the door.”

  His upper lips curls as he admits, “I thought it was a one time thing.”

  Using sex as a means to an end. That sounds familiar.

  “So then how did these guys—the ones who offered to help—find you?”

  “Honestly, I have no idea. I was applying to job postings in every big city along the east coast. Then I get a call recruiting me here. They promised the position would be temporary—that was three months ago. Then a few weeks ago, two suits show up with these filing cabinets and tell me to wait for instructions. I haven’t heard anything since.”

  “How long did it take for you to check what was inside the cabinets?” It doesn’t actually matter. I’m just curious how much willpower Nick actually has.

  He shakes his head, his eyes glancing at the offending cabinets. “I didn’t even make it twenty-four hours. I don’t think I accepted what the hell I’d gotten myself into up until then. It didn’t feel like I really had any other options. No one else would hire me because I don’t have any solid references left. Once you upset the friendly neighborhood preacher, people in small towns don’t exactly line up to give you a good recommendation.”

  I consider his words as I open one of the cabinet drawers again. I lift one of the stacks of cash out and study it.

  It’s a convincing forgery. When I hold it up to the light, all the right security measures are there. Unless someone was already suspicious, they probably wouldn’t jump to the conclusion that the money is fake.

  “So basically we have no information until you get those instructions.”

  “Pretty much.” He looks as resigned as I feel.

  This has to be related to my father somehow. Money laundering seems exactly like the kind of dirty shit he’d be involved in. It’s not enough to suspect he’s involved, though. I need a tangible string tying him to this.

  My guess is the delay in instructions probably has something to do with whatever Murphy used to lure my father oversees for the time being.

  If I want answers, I need my father in town and making moves. It’s the only chance I’ll get to trip him up. Which means I’ve got to call Murphy off daddy-detail without alerting him to what I’ve found. Stellar.

  Of course, I have no intention of sharing any of that with Nick. Looks like once again I’m stuck pretending patience is my strong suit.

  “So what do we do now?” I ask.

  His eyes meet mine. “We act normal.”

  12

  I underestimated the yoga instructor.

  He doesn’t even bat an eye when I show up to his evening session in another skimpy gym outfit. This time, it’s not for Jack’s benefit. What can I say? I need something to entertain myself. And without answers about my missing therapy notes, the room full of fake money, or the lock combination still tucked under my mattress… Entertainment is at an all time low around here.

  We’re just finishing up when I glance up with the intention of making eye contact with Nick. Instead, my gaze moves past him.

  Logan’s eyes meet mine from across the lawn. He gives me a sarcastic salute and keeps moving.

  I watch him disappear into the tree line. No one else seems to notice, probably because the yoga ladies are distracted by Nick once again leading us sans shirt. There aren’t any other staff members out at the moment. No one to notice Logan sneaking down to the woods.

  I’m sure he doesn’t expect I would ever follow him.

  Aside from the obvious fact that I’ve been avoiding him like the plague, there are too many memories hanging like a fog over those woods.

  Curiosity wins out somehow.

  We end the session in corpse pose, and I take my sweet time coming out of that last pose, knowing it’s become enough of a norm for me to drag my exit out. No one is going to question it.

  Nick rolls mats up and waits for me to come to him. I check out his chest as I approach, and I don’t bother being discreet about it.

  It’s equal parts actual attraction and well-placed insinuation. Nick shifts uncomfortably under my attention.

  “I need you to do something for me,” I tell him.

  “Okay.” He looks down at me warily. I’m glad he still has a healthy dose of suspicion—that makes two of us.

  “Go find an excuse to get Jack Lunsford inside.” And out of my way.

  Nick looks over his shoulder, impressively discreet as he takes in Jack where he’s posted by the pool. Jack, on the other hand, seems to have thrown discretion out the window. He appeared about halfway through this evening’s session and has been staring ever since.

  I can only assume Murphy is growing antsy about how I’m spending my time. Or maybe who I’m spe
nding it with.

  “I’m not getting involved in your lover’s spat.” He frowns.

  This guy. I roll my eyes. “That’s not what’s happening, trust me. I just need Jack out of the way briefly. He answers to someone else, and I need that someone to stay in the dark. Actually, I think we both do.”

  I touch Nick’s arm just enough to know it’ll give Jack something harmless to take to Murphy.

  “We’re on the same team right now, Nick. I haven’t said a word about your shit, but now I need you to help me with mine.”

  His tongue darts nervously over the corner of his mouth.

  “Natalie, I can’t afford to lose another job,” he says quietly.

  I pat his arm one last time before stepping back. “Don’t worry. I’m not asking you to do anything that would make you lose your job.”

  “Right. Very reassuring.” He shakes his head. “Just put all my faith into a reality TV star. This is definitely where I was hoping this whole thing was headed.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. Is that judgement from the man who couldn’t keep it in his pants at church?” I raise an eyebrow.

  “Point taken,” he grumbles. “I’ll take care of it.”

  He rolls up the last of the mats and tucks them into the oversized equipment bag that Banner-Hill has oh-so-graciously allowed him to use for cleaning up after the wealthy, flexible masses. How kind of them.

  Instead of heading back inside like usual, I plop down on the grass and pretend to do some additional stretching. I watch out of the corner of my eye as Nick speaks to Jack. It takes a couple minutes, but he finally finds some way to convince Jack to join him. The two of them head inside with Jack shooting me one last perfunctory glance over his shoulder.

  I give it another minute or two before I head for the woods.

  There’s a nervous energy swirling in my stomach as I reach the tree line. Four years. It’s been four years since Dash tempted me down here for a stupid game of truth or dare. I think there’s some twisted irony in there somewhere.

  At least back then the rules of the game were clear. I did what Dash asked and didn’t ask questions.