Chapter 3 #2
Now I wish I really had brought a cameraman. From the pit bull of a secretary to the heavy scent of bleach and pine disinfectant, someone made a concerted effort to clean house before I got here.
“As I said, this is really just a follow-up piece. Nothing too complicated. Just a nice little story about how well your residents are doing since the last time we spoke. Nice and easy.”
My use of the word nice seems to placate him. He nods and settles into his chair. “Yes, yes.”
I smile again, click my pen, hit record, and open my notepad.
“Thank you again for allowing me to visit on such short notice. I understand you’ve had a few staff changes since we last talked? That must have been difficult.”
It’s snooze city, but if I’m going to lure him into a false sense of security, I need him to think I’m on his side.
“Yes. It was. We lost two of our most experienced staffers. They will be missed indeed.”
I scribble down what he’s saying, nodding my head as I formulate the next boring question. “And you’ve made a few changes to the structure of the menu? I read it online—it looks delicious!”
At least that part isn’t a lie. The new menu does look good. But anything can be photoshopped. Including happy residents.
He leans back in his chair, clearly now at home and on safer territory. “It’s been met with a positive reaction. Our residents are enjoying the change.”
“A change is as good as a vacation,” I quip.
He laughs, so I up the ante. “I’d love to see the kitchen and maybe try out the food. It would make a great addition.”
His smile slips. “Oh, I’m afraid I’m not authorized for that.”
I pull a face. “Couldn’t I just take a peep?”
His smile tightens and a flicker of aggravation appears, so I hastily downplay the request. “Maybe next time. Perhaps we could discuss the progress on the new swimming pool?”
Thankfully, he agrees, and for the next fifteen minutes, he gives me a mind-numbingly boring account. It takes all my self-control to pay attention. Thank goodness I’m recording him .
When he inhales, ready to launch into another speech, I interrupt. “Well, I don’t want to keep you any longer. If I need anything clarified, I’ll be in touch. Otherwise, you can expect to see my story in the next bulletin.”
He quickly recovers and gets to his feet, extending his hand. “Of course. I’m always happy to answer questions.”
I refrain from cheekily saying, "Only questions that aren’t difficult to answer," and instead smile sweetly and go in search of my fake cameraman.
Caleb is waiting just outside the office block, camera in hand, shoulders squared, and a scowl so cold it sends Walter stumbling back a step before retreating without a word.
As I fall in beside him, Caleb doesn’t look at me. His jaw ticks. “Come with me.”
“Where?”
His eyes cut to mine—flat, unreadable. “Just follow.”
With no reason not to, I match his pace, all too aware of Walter watching from behind the glass. I give it five minutes before security shows up and we’re slapped with a trespass notice.
Caleb, however, is a man on a mission, and I soon see why.
Outside, in the broiling heat, sits a woman in a wheelchair. She’s reed-thin, wearing far too many clothes for the conditions, with no water and no hat. Worse, a dark shadow creeps along her collarbone and spreads across her upper arms.
My stomach tightens as we approach and see how emaciated she appears. Why on earth is she outside alone?
Caleb is obviously right to be furious as he uncaps a bottle of water and presses it to her cracked lips. His muscles are taut, and his jaw is working furiously.
Oh boy.
He looks one step away from picking the poor old dear up and carrying her out of here, and if it weren’t for the possibility of making it worse for her, I’d be cheering him on all the way.
“Betty wasn’t in the shade when I found her,” he says.
Caleb crouches down, peering up at her, and gently takes her hand in his giant paw. “I don’t like you being left out here in the heat,” he says softly. “I’m going to have a word with the guy who runs this place.”
Betty shrinks back. Given how intimidating Caleb is, that she’s fearful of making a fuss is alarming.
“Oh, n-n-no. Don’t,” she stammers.
Caleb’s entire body tenses, but he keeps his voice calm and soothing. “Nothing is going to happen to you, Betty. I’m going to make sure of that.”
When she bites her lip and starts to tremble, my own righteous anger takes hold. “I’m calling the police.”
Caleb looks up at me and shakes his head. “No need. You stay here with Betty. Do not move. This won’t take long.”
He lets go of Betty’s hand and, with a frown in my direction, stalks off toward the office block before I can tell him to tread carefully.
As bad as this looks, there might be an explanation. Betty may bruise easily. She might have requested some time in the sun, and her carer could be off searching for a favorite hat. There’s no sense going in all guns blazing when we don’t have all the facts.
I send up a hasty prayer that he doesn’t do anything reckless and lean against the tree.
“Is he your boyfriend?” she asks.
“He’s just a friend of my brother,” I say quickly, shaking my head.
She sighs. “Oh. Well. He’s very attractive. But so very, very large.”
I burst out laughing. “He is. He likes to lift weights.”
Betty looks decidedly confused, so I change the subject. “What’s the new menu like?”
Her nose scrunches in disgust. “Revolting.”
She slaps a hand over her mouth, panic flashing in her eyes. “But don’t tell them. You mustn’t tell them I said that. ”
I infuse as much assurance into my voice as I can. “They won’t hear it from me.”
They might darn well hear it splashed all over the article, though.
I lean forward slightly, keeping my tone gentle. “Betty, how long have you been sitting out here?”
She blinks, looking around like she’s seeing her surroundings for the first time. “I…I’m not sure. Someone said they’d be right back.”
The journalist in me can’t let it go. “Who said that?”
“The new girl. The one with the mean eyes.” Betty’s voice drops to a whisper. “She doesn’t like us very much.”
That gives me pause. I study her flushed face—open, sincere, maybe a little confused, but not lying. Not imagining things.
I glance back toward the building, heart thudding now for a different reason.
This wasn't just negligence. It might not even be carelessness.
After thinking Caleb had wrecked my chances of uncovering the truth here, he’s done the one thing I couldn’t: he found me a credible source.