ELLE
Whistleblower Believed to be Dead, Mayor Called in for Questioning
Lucy’s article hit my desk prior to printing early the next morning. She took the lead since I felt like maybe I was too close to all of it. I didn’t want to be accused of bias.
As I read the article, I knew it had been the right decision.
Jesus, Jeremiah. What’s going on here?
James Fitzhenry was believed to have been in the car found at the bottom of the lake. It was James’ car, and while the remains were pretty hard to identify in their current state, he was behind the wheel. He was missing. And his wallet had been found at the bottom of the lake too – with his ID in it.
The whistleblower who talked about Jeremiah taking bribes was likely dead. Sure, it could have been suicide, which wasn’t ruled out yet. But there was no indication that James was suicidal – especially since he’d agreed to work with prosecution regarding Jeremiah’s corruption and there was no note. He’d just bought the BMW found at the bottom of the lake not even a month prior. He’d also bought a new house and had booked a vacation to Tahiti next month.
Not that things couldn’t have gotten really bad at the last minute, but those weren’t the actions of someone who didn’t have a plan for the future. Which only made people question what was happening even more than before.
I closed my laptop, my eyes burning from staring at the screen for too long. I’d read and re-read the damned thing, looking for some flaw, something I could argue with and tell her she was wrong, that it couldn’t go to print. Because I wanted to believe it was wrong.
I wanted to believe Jeremiah was innocent.
Maybe everyone was right. I was too close to it.
I closed my aching eyes and leaned back in the chair, rubbing my temples.
“Please don’t tell my dad,” I begged, my voice slurring as I spoke. “He’ll kill me.”
Jeremiah sat behind the driver’s seat of his truck with a stoic look, staring straight ahead. “Elle, he’s going to notice.”
“Why? I can hide it,” I giggled like a little girl, and once I started, I couldn’t stop. Even I knew I was too drunk to hide it from anyone.
Jeremiah side-eyed me. I stopped laughing. That one look was enough to straighten me up, to almost sober me up. But not quite.
“What should I do?”
“You should walk in that door and tell him you’re sorry and that it won’t happen again. And you better mean it, because you’re too young to fuck up your life like this.”
“It was one party.” I rolled my eyes. “I’ve never been drunk before.”
“Yes, but that’s how it starts. One party becomes another, and then another. I’m just grateful you didn’t get behind the wheel of your car.”
I had called him. I was smart enough to know I couldn’t drive. I could hardly walk. I knew if I called my dad, he’d scream at me the entire drive home. But Jeremiah would be more reasonable. He always seemed to be the most reasonable man I’d ever met. He was so easy to talk to, so understanding.
Even when he was angry, he was so handsome. His face was utter perfection. Some people might have thought he was too old, and he was technically too old for me – I was only sixteen. But I had a crush on him. It wasn’t just his good looks, though; it was also his kindness, the goodness I saw inside him. The fact that he was always there for me when I needed him to be.
Jeremiah’s truck lurched forward and stopped. I faced the front windshield, surprised to see that we were at my house already.
I let out an audible groan. “Can we go to the diner? Get me some coffee first?”
“No,” Jeremiah said sternly, undoing his seatbelt. “I’m not going to lie to your father, and neither are you. He’s a good man, Elle. He only wants what’s best for you.”
I rolled my eyes, but inwardly, I knew he was right. My father was a good man; he was just a bit too strict sometimes. If he could have put a tracker on me to know where I was at every minute of the day, I’m sure he would have.
I stayed in the car until Jeremiah walked around and opened my door. “Come on.”
My stomach roiled, partially from alcohol, partially from the nerves. I stared into Jeremiah’s eyes, begging him to let me wait a bit longer. But he took my hand and helped me from the car, steadying me on my feet as I wobbled.
He walked me to the front door.
He stayed with me.
We walked into the house together, and my father was already on his feet and at the door when we stepped inside.
“Elle? Where were you?” He looked at Jeremiah. “What’s going on?”
“She needs to tell you,” Jeremiah said. “Just remember that she called me for help instead of doing something that could have made things far worse.”
Dad’s eyes turned to me, anger in them. But not as much as I thought. No, there was an entirely different emotion in his eyes.
Disappointment.
And that hurt far more than him being angry at me.
“Elle?”
“Daddy, I’m sorry,” I mumbled, slurring my words. My legs wobbled, and Jeremiah was there to help hold me up. He was my rock. “There was this boy, Shane, and he was having a party and-”
“I thought you went to Josie’s,” Dad said, his eyes narrowing.
“I-I lied,” I admitted. “Josie is out of town visiting family.”
Dad’s fists balled up at his sides, and I didn’t need to finish. He knew.
“Just remember, Carl, she could have driven home drunk. She called me. She did the right thing, even if she fucked up. We need to make sure she knows she can come to us when she’s in trouble.”
My eyes filled with tears. I didn’t hear the rest of what Jeremiah said, but he didn’t mention what else had happened – how Shane Wilson had led me to his room and tried to have sex with me. I didn’t want to; I fought him. As soon as I got out of his bedroom, I dialed Jeremiah in tears.
I felt safe calling him.
I felt like not only would he not get me in trouble, he would help me.
My father would have helped me too, of course, but I didn’t feel comfortable calling him. I knew I’d get a lecture, and at that moment, I didn’t need a lecture. I knew I’d fucked up. I just wanted to go home and get into my own bed, where it was safe and there weren’t pervy boys trying to take my clothes off against my will.
The buzzing of my phone pulled me out of the memory. My heart raced as I tried to remember where I was and that I was no longer a scared sixteen-year-old girl in need of help.
I picked up the phone, and saw it was Josie.
“Hello,” I croaked.
“Are you alright?” my best friend asked.
“Just tired…it’s been a long day,” I said, rubbing my eyes. “What’s up?”
“I was wondering if you wanted to grab a drink?” Josie asked.
God, did I…but I knew there was something else I needed to do instead. “I’m sorry, but I just want to go home. Like I said, long day, and I have one hell of a headache.”
“I’m sorry,” she sympathized. “Want me to bring you anything?”
“No thanks, but let’s have drinks soon, alright?”
“Of course, Elle,” Josie said. “Feel better.”
I hung up, feeling bad for not meeting my friend, but I needed to help Jeremiah. I dialed his number, and it rang so many times, I thought I’d get voicemail. But Jeremiah’s voice came from the other end of the line.
“Elle?”
“Yeah, it’s me,” I said, knowing full well I sounded weak and pathetic. I felt pretty weak, but I couldn’t go home and forget about all this. I needed to do something. “Can we talk?”
“About what?” Jeremiah sounded guarded.
“About what I can do to help you.”
He was quiet for a long time before saying. “Elle, there’s nothing-”
“No, listen to me, Jeremiah. I know you’re innocent. There’s no way you could do the things you’re being accused of,” I insisted. “And I’ve got skills, I know how to dig deep for information. I can help you.”
“You don’t need to get involved in my business, Elle. As much as I appreciate it-”
“Think of the girls,” I reminded him. “Think about them. If you go to prison, who will take care of them? Their mother? Is she even around?” He was silent for a long time. “Jeremiah?”
“Yes.” He sounded annoyed. “I’m here. I’m just…I can’t let you get involved in this.”
“You didn’t have to get involved with my problems growing up, but you always did. You always helped me. Let me repay the favor. If not for you, then for the girls. Let me do this for them.”
I didn’t give him a chance to argue with me. I hung up the phone, packed up my computer, and grabbed my things. I locked the office, knowing full well that when I came back the next morning, all hell would break loose over Lucy’s article.
I needed to be prepared for anything. But that was tomorrow.
Tonight, it was all about trying to help clear Jeremiah’s name.