Unlocking Melodies (Oakwood Grove #3)

17. Fractured Truth

Chapter 17

Fractured Truth

“ L ook, I get that you want answers,” Jake's voice crackled through my phone, “but Ramirez isn't exactly being chatty about his connections.”

“Tomorrow morning works. Just... get me ten minutes with him.”

"Ten minutes to what? Intimidate him with your corporate death stare?" Jake's sigh carried years of small-town sheriff wisdom. "Fine. But I'm warning you – he's been about as forthcoming as Winston during surveillance duty."

I stood at the window of my hotel room after hanging up, staring out at Oakwood Grove's quiet streets. Every piece of information I had about Gary Reed set off warning bells in my corporate-trained brain - his sudden appearance, his careful stories, the way he managed to say everything and nothing at the same time. Something wasn't adding up, and after years of corporate negotiations, I'd learned to trust that instinct.

My phone lit up with Jimmy's text

Jimmy

Dinner at the ranch tonight? Caleb's grilling, and Nina's bringing pie. No suits allowed – Melody's still holding a grudge against Italian wool.

The invitation felt like sunlight breaking through storm clouds. Meanwhile, my laptop blinked with another update from Mia – more financial anomalies in Gary's recent activities. Someone was funding his redemption tour, and the numbers suggested it wasn't small-time gambling money.

I glanced at Mrs. Henderson's flowered wallpaper, now partially obscured by my attempt to map connections between Gary's sudden appearance and Ramirez's attack. The timing was too perfect, the setup too clean. Gary's pressed suit alone probably cost more than most recovering addicts could afford.

My phone buzzed again.

Mia

Your father's asking questions about recent private investigator expenses. Want me to bury them deeper?

Me

No. Just tell him it is for Jimmy. He would understand. I’ll tell you everything later.

I rubbed my temples, feeling the weight of secrets pressing down. The last thing I wanted was to drag Jimmy back into this mess of conspiracy and danger. But keeping him in the dark hadn't exactly worked out well last time.

I texted Jimmy before I could forget.

Me

Rain check on dinner? Corporate fire needs putting out. I typed back, hating how easily the half-truth came.

Jimmy

Let me guess - someone tried to synergize something that shouldn't be synergized? No worries, save some suits from certain doom. Though Melody will be disappointed.

Me

Tell Melody I'll make it up to her with those fancy organic treats she likes.

Jimmy

Now you're just bribing my horse. I see how it is.

Turning back to my laptop, I pulled up Mia's latest report. The numbers painted a clear picture – Gary's recent activities showed a pattern of high-end hotels, expensive restaurants, and transportation costs that no recovering gambler should be able to afford. Someone was orchestrating this, but to what end?

I'd seen enough hostile takeovers to recognize the signs of careful orchestration. Gary's stories about Jimmy's mother, while probably true, had been deployed with strategic precision. Each photo, each memory, each carefully timed emotional revelation felt like moves in a game I couldn't quite figure out.

My fingers hovered over my phone, tempted to call Jimmy, to voice my suspicions. But what would I say? That his father's touching reunion felt too perfectly scripted? That his emotional vulnerability seemed too precisely targeted? That even his nervous habits looked rehearsed?

But I'd built an empire recognizing patterns, seeing the moves before they were made. And everything about Gary's appearance set off warning bells – from his conveniently timed arrival to his pointed mentions of Jimmy's venue network.

Through the window, I caught sight of a car I'd noticed before – expensive but not flashy, parked just far enough away to avoid attention. It pulled away smoothly, heading in the direction Gary had taken after leaving the diner.

My phone buzzed with another text from Jimmy.

Jimmy

Melody says she'll forgive your absence if you bring those fancy apple treats next time. She's becoming quite the extortionist.

The easy warmth of his message contrasted sharply with the cold calculations spread across my laptop screen. How could I tell him that while he was rediscovering pieces of his past, I was finding holes in his father's carefully constructed performance?

Sometimes protection meant keeping your suspicions to yourself. But hadn't that kind of thinking caused enough damage already?

Morning arrived with the kind of clarity that made even Mrs. Henderson's roosters sound judgmental. I dressed methodically, each piece of my sharpest suit feeling like armor being assembled.

At least that's what I told my reflection, which looked significantly less convinced than I'd hoped.

Jake waited outside the local jail, his raised eyebrow at my attire saying more than words could. The building itself seemed almost apologetically small – more like an oversized sheriff's office than the high-security fortress my imagination had conjured.

Officer Dawn met us inside, her usual warmth replaced by professional distance. “He's been asking about Jimmy,” she said, each word precise and careful. “Says he needs to explain something.”

The walk to the interview room felt like one of those dreams where corridors keep stretching endlessly. My hands wanted to shake, but years of board meetings had taught me how to keep them steady.

Though most hostile takeovers didn't involve seeing the man who'd hurt Jimmy sitting there in prison orange, looking altogether too comfortable for someone in his position.

Ramirez's gaze swept over me, recognition sparking with uncomfortable familiarity. “Ah,” he said, a smirk playing at his lips. “The boyfriend from New York.”

My jaw clenched automatically. The casual way he referenced our connection made my skin crawl, but I lifted a hand to stop Jake from stepping forward. I hadn't come here to lose control. I'd come for answers.

“Let's skip the pleasantries,” I said, my voice falling into place like a shield. “You wanted to explain something.”

“Right to business.” Ramirez leaned back, the metal chair creaking beneath him. “Just like they said you would be.”

The “they” caught my attention immediately. “Who hired you?”

“Getting ahead of the story.” His smirk widened slightly. “It started simple enough. Surveillance job. Follow him, track his movements, report his contacts. Good money for easy work.”

I kept my expression neutral, though my heart was racing. “And then?”

“Then the orders changed,” Ramirez said, leaning forward. His orange jumpsuit caught the harsh fluorescent light, making him look sickly. “They wanted him brought in. Not hurt, they said. Just... contained.”

“Why?” I kept my voice steady despite the rage building in my chest.

“His father's debts. Not just gambling - he borrowed from the wrong people in New York.” Ramirez ran a hand through his unkempt hair. “Look, I didn't want to hurt him, okay? Kid was just collateral.”

“Collateral?” The word tasted like ash.

“The Moretti family doesn't exactly send polite collection notices.” Ramirez's eyes darted to Jake, then back to me. “Gary Reed owed them big. When they found out his son was building something valuable here...”

“They saw an opportunity,” I finished, my jaw clenching.

“Jimmy was leverage. Simple as that.” Ramirez shifted uncomfortably. “I tried talking first. Outside The Watering Hole. Just wanted to explain the situation, you know? But he... he panicked.”

“You mean he recognized a threat.”

“He fought back,” Ramirez continued, his tough exterior cracking slightly. “I've been in law enforcement fifteen years. Seen all kinds of fights. But this...” He shook his head. “He didn't fight like someone scared for himself. More like someone protecting everything he'd built here.”

“And now?” I pressed. “Why is Gary really back?”

“Think about it.” Ramirez's smirk returned, but it looked forced. “Man shows up in expensive suits, telling sweet stories about the past? Someone's backing his performance. And it ain't his bookkeeper.”

The implication made my blood run cold. “The Morettis sent him.”

“Got it in one.” Ramirez leaned back. “They want something here in Oakwood Grove. Something worth cleaning up Gary Reed and sending him in as their front man.”

I stood abruptly, my chair scraping against the concrete floor. The sound echoed in the small room like a judgment.

“One more thing,” Ramirez called as I turned to leave. “The night it happened? Jimmy got a warning call. Someone with connections told him they were coming. That's why he ran to the ranch.”

“Why tell me this now?”

“Because I think Gary Reed ain't here for a family reunion.” His voice dropped lower. “And the Morettis don't invest in small-town redemption stories without a reason.”

“That was enlightening,” Jake said once we were back in his office, Dawn closing the door behind us with more force than necessary. The contrast between the interview room's tension and Jake's sun-filled office felt jarring.

“The Moretti family,” Dawn said, perching on Jake's desk. “That's not a name you want showing up in small-town police reports.”

I loosened my tie, the Tom Ford suit suddenly feeling more constraining than protective. “You knew about this connection?”

“Had suspicions.” Jake settled into his chair. “But the Morettis are good at keeping their hands clean. Getting Ramirez to actually confirm it...” He whistled low. “That's something.”

“And now Gary shows up looking like a Wall Street banker instead of a recovering gambler.” Dawn's tone dripped with skepticism. “Pretty expensive redemption tour.”

“They're using him,” I said, the pieces finally clicking into place. “Clean him up, send him in with childhood photos and tearful stories about Jimmy's mother...”

“While they what?” Dawn interrupted. “What could the Morettis want with Oakwood Grove?”

Jake picked up a file from his desk – property records, I realized. “Jimmy's venue network. The music center project. He was building something valuable here. Something that could be used for...”

“Money laundering,” I finished, feeling sick. “Entertainment venues are perfect for it. High cash flow, variable attendance numbers...”

“And a grieving father reconnecting with his amnesiac son makes a great cover for new management.” Dawn's expression hardened. “No one questions family taking an interest in the business.”

The morning sun painted shadows across Jake's desk, making the property records look more ominous than simple paper should. Outside, I could hear Sarah's Diner coming to life – the normal sounds of a town Jimmy had chosen to protect.

“We can't tell him,” I said finally. “Not yet. Not until...”

“Until what?” Dawn challenged. “Until his father gets deeper into his life? Until the Morettis have their hooks in everything he's built here?”

“Officer Dawn,” Jake's voice held warning, but I cut him off.

“No, she's right.” I stood, needing to move. “I've tried protecting him by keeping secrets before. Look how well that worked out.”

“So what's the play?” Jake asked, watching me pace. “Because if you're thinking of taking on the Moretti family with nothing but corporate lawyers and small-town charm...”

“I'm thinking we need proof.” I stopped by the window, watching Mrs. Henderson pretend to be fascinated by her garden while clearly monitoring the station. “Proof Gary's working for them. Proof of what they're really planning.”

“And then?”

“And then we let Jimmy make his own choice about how to handle it.” The words felt right, even though they terrified me. “But with all the information this time, not just the pieces we think he can handle.”

Dawn's smile was approving. “Well, would you look at that. The CEO can learn new tricks.”

Tomorrow, I'd pay Gary a visit. See if the caring father act held up under closer scrutiny.

At least Mrs. Henderson's surveillance team would keep an eye on things. Even if their tactics mainly involved opera glasses and suspicious dog walking patterns.

My phone lit up with a text from Jimmy.

Jimmy

Melody says you're forgiven for missing dinner. But she's starting a tab.

Through my hotel window, movement caught my eye. Jimmy stood in the town square, balanced precariously on a ladder while helping Nina hang festival decorations. His laugh carried across the street as she said something that made him nearly drop the string lights. The scene was pure Oakwood Grove – warm, genuine, completely at odds with the web of dark connections spread across my wall.

My phone buzzed.

Jimmy

Survived another corporate crisis? Or did someone try to synergize the unsynergizable again?

I stared at his message, then at my evidence wall, the contrast making my chest tight. The truth sat heavy in my hands – a weight I wasn't sure how to share. Jimmy was finally piecing together fragments of his past, finding connections to his family through Gary's stories. How could I risk shattering that newfound peace without being absolutely certain?

Me

Crisis managed, though someone did actually use 'synergize' in a meeting. Twice.

Jimmy

The horror! Quick, send thoughts and prayers to their PowerPoint presentation.

I couldn't risk him losing his father twice – once to memory loss, and now potentially to betrayal – without being completely certain. Gary's involvement with the Morettis needed to be proven beyond doubt before I shattered whatever healing had begun.

Jimmy

Save me from corporate jargon tomorrow? Dinner at Sarah's? I promise minimal synergizing.

My fingers hovered over the phone. It would be so easy to say yes, to pretend everything was normal. But I had a meeting at the Morton Hotel to plan, and too many shadows to chase down before I could face him with the truth.

Me

Rain check? One more fire to put out.

Jimmy

Your suits must be exhausted from all this crisis management, Tell them I said stay strong.

“I'll fix this,” I promised my reflection in the window. “The right way this time.”