Truth (Scandals of Banner-Hill Book 1) Page 17

  My eyes blankly study my surroundings. I never paid much attention to the staff lot, so it’s weird to see it now. Trees line the lawn between the building and the parking lot, almost like the patients need to be shielded from the realities of something as horrific as a parking lot.

  They have no idea that the horrors are all already inside those walls.

  I blindly follow Nick to a patch of grass between two trees. He watches me like I’m a wounded bird out of the corner of his eye. I still notice, but I appreciate the attempt to not be obnoxious about it.

  He rolls both mats out, sitting on one and patting for me to take the other.

  I drop to my knees and finally break into tears. Not just normal tears, either, but big, gasping sobs. Whatever he was expecting, it isn’t this.

  “Do you want me to call someone?” he asks, hesitation in his voice.

  I’m sure seeing me in the middle of a nervous breakdown is troubling considering he put his life in my hands this week by telling me about the money. I could bury us both with one wrong move. And now here I am, crying inconsolably on his worn yoga mat.

  The thought just makes me cry harder. Years of buried grief rise to the surface.

  “I’ll take that as a no,” he mutters.

  He lets me cry it out for a couple minutes, but he lets out a whole string of curses when I get to a point where I can’t catch my breath. Sobs give way to shuddery gasps as I struggle to pull enough air into my lungs.

  “Hey, just breathe.”

  I jolt when Nick’s hands touch me, but he’s as close to a perfect gentleman as a guy with his history can be. He gently maneuvers me onto my back into a corpse pose, reminding me to breathe on his counts. It feels like it takes an eternity, but I’m eventually breathing normally again. The tears fading into oblivion as my whole body seems to come back to life.

  “I won’t bother asking if you’re okay, but is there anything you need me to do?”

  I side-eye him.

  “Don’t look at me like that. You’re the one who got all up in my business practically from day one. As far as I’m concerned, we’re a team for the time being. You’re not gonna be much help to me if someone catches you freaking out like this. Xanax isn’t exactly the hallmark of a productivity drug.“ He smirks, the only sign that he’s not actually trying to be an asshole so much as he’s trying to lighten the mood.

  I don’t need him to lighten it. I’m craving the darkness.

  I had to numb myself to survive the night, but now in the light of day, I feel thirsty for vengeance. I no longer want to just make my father pay for everything he’s done—now I want him to pay with his life.

  I was never bloodthirsty before but there’s no going back now. Logan wanted to make me suffer—and he did—but he also led me to the answers I’ve been searching for. Including an answer he was looking for himself about what’s in Kevin Banner’s office.

  “Are you really the only one with a key to the room where the yoga stuff gets stored?” I ask. I won’t be able to focus on anything else until I’ve finished facing the past.

  There’s a reason ghosts haunt where they leave unfinished business.

  Nick’s eyebrows furrow, and he squints his eyes while he thinks. “I assume Kevin and Sascha both have keys, but no one else that I know of. I’ve never actually seen either of them going in, but they own the place, so I’m sure there’s nothing here they can’t access.”

  I put my hands over my face to block out the sun as I try to focus.

  Kevin Banner parties with Dash and fucks him at least once. More than once, if my last conversation with Dash is to be believed. That night, my father shows up unannounced. I didn’t call him, so deductive reasoning means Banner did.

  I run through my father’s words again but something doesn’t add up.

  Why would he have let Banner keep the tapes if he was so worried about a sex scandal?

  My father didn’t want anyone to have a reason to come sniffing around at Banner-Hill. But why? If he’s responsible for the fake cash, why is this the place he chose to store it? And who found Nick to be the perfect, desperate scapegoat?

  A suspicion starts to build. I wipe the residual tears from my cheeks and sit up.

  “Do you know Kevin Banner’s schedule?”

  “Not off the top of my head, but it’s usually posted in the break room. Why?” Nick’s nose scrunches to give away his own dislike of the man. That’s one way to endear himself further to me.

  I give him a tight smile. “It’s time to find ourselves a bargaining chip.”

  Luck is on our side.

  Or maybe it’s not luck at all.

  I look at the paper in my hands, studying the way Banner’s impromptu vacation time has been hastily scribbled across the page. There’s no coincidence that it appears to have started yesterday, immediately after laying eyes on me.

  Whatever. Banner’s time will come, but for the time being, it’s better for me knowing he’s temporarily out of the way. After last night, I’m not really feeling too keen on biting my tongue.

  If it hadn’t been for my father, I wouldn’t have stayed silent this long. I really thought he was somehow protecting me by keeping me quiet about Dash’s death and its circumstances.

  That concept seems laughable now.

  “We could go tonight during shift change,” I suggest, keeping my voice low so the group of women a few feet away can’t hear me.

  Nick shakes his head. “People will ask questions if I’m here that late.”

  “Then we could go with my original plan where I break into Banner’s office alone.” I’m still a little cross about how quickly he vetoed that the first time around.

  “There are two problems with that plan. One being that we have a lot better excuses for why we’re in the office if we’re both there. No one would question you needing someone to talk to outside of your therapy and group hours.”

  “Right—because I have a reputation.” And because I’ve been skipping pretty much all of those sessions anyway. I go ahead and finish for him, “Point two being that you don’t really trust me not to fuck you over later. Normally I’d pretend to be a little more offended, but under the circumstances, I’d say the feeling is mutual. So what do you suggest instead?”

  “I say we go now.” He meets my stare head-on and unflinchingly.

  “Now?” I echo.

  He shrugs his shoulders slightly and slips his hands into his pockets. The stance makes him look so casual I almost forget what the hell we’re talking about. Now is probably the worst possible time to be drooling over an older man. Blame it on the lack of sleep and gentle way he helped me deal with my trauma this morning.

  I swallow down the part of my daddy issues that makes me want to fuck off-limits and age inappropriate men.

  “Almost everyone is focused on breakfast and morning sessions right now. It would be easy to slip away in the chaos,” Nick explains, completely oblivious to the confusion in my brain over my attraction to him.

  I shake my head to try to shake away the distraction but he mistakes it for me saying no.

  He lowers his voice even more, the tone of it tight with instant anger. “I get that you don’t like answering to anyone else, but this makes the most sense. It’s not just our places at Banner-Hill at stake if we make a misstep right now.”

  I think about my father’s reaction if he knew I was fishing for something to destroy him with. Then I realize Nick’s focus is still on the money and whoever the fake prints actually belong to.

  I’m no more excited by the prospect of ending up in hot water over that shit than he is. Especially because when I think of who that money might be connected to, I get a spike of anxiety I’m not prepared to deal with.

  Mobsters. Mafias. Gangs. All the kind of people I wouldn’t put it past my father to rub elbows with.

  “Lead the way,” I tell Nick before he can start in on me again. Mostly because I’m scared I might like it, and neither of us has time fo
r that.

  Nick huffs a laugh under his breath but doesn’t say a word as I use a bobby pin to pick the lock on Banner’s door. I’d love to find the humor in it with him, but my stomach is so knotted I can barely feel anything else.

  I haven’t been back to this office since Dash.

  I hesitate as I’m opening the door because I can almost swear I hear his voice. Then I shove the door open harder than I mean to because this isn’t the place or the way I want to remember him. As fucked up as Ian was… I loved him. In the way Juliet described to me where it doesn’t really have to make sense.

  “It’s fine, he’s not here,” Nick tries to reassure me quietly. He has no idea that isn’t what’s making me hesitate on the threshold.

  I swallow down the knot working its way up my throat and force myself to step inside.

  The air feels a little stale, as if the office has been left sitting empty for too long. I know Banner wasn’t here when I arrived, and he left quick once he saw me, so it isn’t surprising.

  “There should be a safe somewhere on one of these bookshelves,” I tell Nick, filling him in on what I overheard from Logan.

  He closes the door to Banner’s office quietly, turning the lock to seal us inside. I move toward the shelves furthest from the desk. I’m trying real damn hard to not even look in that direction. Some of the tension in my shoulders eases when Nick goes to the opposite side of the office to search the shelves closest to the desk.

  There’s nothing obvious that screams secret safe—I expected that. I run my hands over the spines of books, feeling for anything abnormal.

  I wrinkle my nose at the layer of dust I come away with. I guess whatever is hidden in here, Banner doesn’t trust the cleaning crew inside his space. The least he could do is invest in a feather duster or something. Ugh.

  I step back and try to see if I can pick anything up with my eyes instead.

  It takes two tries of scanning each shelf before I catch something on the second row of the second bookcase. Every other book on the shelves seems to serve some purpose. Inspirational memoirs, mental health workbooks, and multiple editions of diagnostic books. But there, on the second row, is a set of encyclopedias that feel out of place.

  The patients here come from wealth and privilege. If we need to look something up, we would ask for a computer, not an encyclopedia. So unless those have sentimental value…

  I pull one of the books away and catch a glimpse of dark metal.

  “Nick.”

  He’s by my side within seconds, crouching next to me to see what I’ve found. I start pulling the rest of the books off the shelf as Nick studies what’s obviously the front of a safe. The keypad sits behind the end of the alphabet. It’s one of those old school keypads with light up buttons where you can see the letters that correspond with each number.

  I have the code memorized from too many hours spent studying it as if the numbers would reveal some great secret.

  62. 8. 25. 43.

  I run through the combination and hear a satisfying click. I reach for the handle, bracing myself for whatever comes next.

  “Wait.”

  Nick puts his hand over mine to stop me from opening the safe.

  “What?” I frown up at him. Then frown even deeper when I realize how close his face is to mine.

  “Do the code again,” he tells me, releasing my hand.

  My face scrunches. “Why? It’s open.”

  “Just do it. Trust me. And go slower this time.” His eyes are serious. That’s why I do as he asked—definitely not because his breath smells slightly like peppermint, and it’s doing weird things to my head.

  I run back through the numbers. 62. 8. 25. 43. Then a second time. It’s the second time, moving at practically glacier speed, that I see it.

  The code to the safe spells out my name.

  6-N.

  2-A.

  8-T.

  2-A.

  5-L.

  4-I.

  3-E.

  There was a clue in those numbers after all. Except the clue wasn’t about Kevin Banner at all. This isn’t his safe.

  “Natalie, why is the code to the safe your name?” Nick asks, too perceptive for the good of either of us. He leans away a little, the movement so slight it probably wasn’t even done consciously. Now I’ve given him a reason to be suspicious of me. Great.

  I run my tongue across my lips for moisture because my mouth has suddenly gone dry. I’m also trying to buy a moment to decide how much trust I can put in a virtual stranger.

  He can’t be any worse than Murphy.

  “I’m not here because I’m an addict,” I admit.

  He snorts out a laugh. “Yeah, no shit. All anyone could talk about when you first got here was the fact that you didn’t have detox symptoms and your urine test came back clear.” He winces slightly. “Sorry, that’s weird to bring up, isn’t it?”

  “No weirder than the fact that I’m here to dig up dirt on my father at the direction of my uncle, who may or may not believe that I’m a valid sexual option for him.”

  Nick’s face blanches.

  “I win,” I joke uncomfortably. I meant to leave the creepy incest out, but honestly, I’ve been dying to say the words out loud so someone else could confirm the ick factor for me.

  Based on the way Nick’s mouth twists in disgust, I’d say mission accomplished.

  “That’s a lot to unpack.” Nick blows out a breath before his eyes widen. “Is Banner your dad?”

  This time I’m the one with the look of disgust. “No. Definitely not.” I shudder, too, just for good measure. “But I think he’s working with my father. Though now I’m starting to suspect he’s actually working for not with him. And maybe not by choice.”

  I reach for the safe door again and pull it open.

  The left side is a mess of technology I can’t make sense of. It’s the right side that hits me like a semi-truck. I knew there would be a tape of Dash somewhere. I didn’t know it wouldn’t be the only one.

  “There’s a dozen of these,” I whisper, reaching for the small tape cases.

  Nick helps me pull them out and then looks expectantly at me, waiting for some kind of explanation. I don’t even know how to give him one.

  “I think I’m going to be sick,” I just manage to get out.

  Nick’s quick on his feet, leaping up to get the trashcan by Banner’s desk and rushing it over to me just in time. He pulls my hair back out of my face as I heave into the can. There’s not much in my stomach for me to lose. Sweat drips down my forehead to mix with tears as I dry heave.

  I’m pretty sure I’ve just killed whatever attraction was lingering between Nick and I.

  “Is it as bad as I think it is?” Nick asks when my stomach finally stops trying to turn itself inside-out.

  “Worse,” I croak out through a sore throat. “Sex tapes. Underage sex tapes.”

  Not only is Dash’s full name scrawled across the label of one of the small tape cases. There are also two other names I instantly recognize from my stays as a teenager. Lucas Ellsworth, the sitcom actor. Mitch Hart, former olympic hopeful turned underwear model as an adult.

  I read the other names, most of which I vaguely recognize. Apparently Banner’s only type is underage and famous.

  The last tape makes my blood run cold. I blink at the name on the label until the letters start to swim together in my vision. No. I clutch the tape to my chest and try to swallow the dry heaves threatening to start again.

  It’s much, much worse than I thought.

  Nick reaches for the tape and gently pries it away from me. He grimaces as he reads the name, needing no explanation of who this is.

  Jamison Lake.

  In my obsession to avenge Dash, I never considered who else might have been a victim of a system meant to protect them. Jamison’s overdose got such public coverage that I never questioned the details. Until now.

  Did Jamison overdose on drugs he did with Banner? Did he overdose to fre
e himself from a predator?

  I realize now that it’s no coincidence that Banner-Hill stopped serving teenagers. My father knew Banner’s secret—I can’t imagine he’s the only one.

  “Fuck. I’d really like to go back to yesterday when our biggest problem was fake money rather than child porn.” Nick sounds as disgusted as I feel, my skin crawling as I stare down at these tapes. “Who made these?”

  “Banner. Or at least I assume they’re all Banner. I’m sure as hell not going to watch them all to double-check.”

  “All of them? I don’t want to watch any of them,” Nick protests.

  “Then don’t,” I mutter as I stand, Dash’s tape clutched in my hands. Seeing the tape can’t be any worse than witnessing it live.

  A wall of anxiety slams into me as I move toward Banner’s desk. It’s only a hunch I have that there’s got to be some way to watch these tapes in here. My father would have played them for Banner as a reminder of how easily he could bury him. It’s the kind of man my father is.

  Swallowing the onslaught of memories that strike me as I stand in front of the desk, I kneel down and look for something to play the tape.

  It isn’t even hidden. The tape deck is attached underneath the desk.

  I focus on breathing the way Nick directed me outside as I slide the tape into the deck and grab Banner’s computer mouse. It only takes a couple clicks to make the tape play. The screen rolls with footage that looks familiar but doesn’t fit my memories perfectly. A different outfit. A different position. Dash is bent across the desk from a different side. I force the tape to fast forward until I catch a jump. Someone has spliced footage together from multiple recordings.

  I sway slightly on my feet. This is it. Confirmation that Dash wasn’t lying. There was more than just the one time.

  I narrow my eyes as I study the angle of the camera work. It’s coming from a bird’s eye view but not directly above. I look away from the footage to study the room, looking in the direction where the camera would have to be.