Chapter 6 #2
“I’m not interested in running a campaign that’s based on mudslinging, even if that’s the norm. So I didn’t tell Preston about the emails. Besides, those emails were sent to my personal email address, not my campaign one.”
“Who has your personal email address?” I asked.
“Preston, a few trusted staffers, my mother.”
“Your mother? What about your father?”
If I hadn’t looked over at him at the exact right time, I would have missed the stiffness in his frame. When he saw me looking at him, he forced his body to relax and said, “My father’s not big on technology…devil’s lure, remember?”
“You’re lying,” I said without preamble. “None of this works if you lie to me, Nate.”
He held my gaze briefly and then hardened his jaw before looking away. “I don’t even know what this is.”
“This is me trying to keep you alive so you can-”
“Vincent, I swear to God, if you make one more crack about me lying to people to get votes…”
He shook his head and put his hand to his mouth as if to stop himself from continuing the sentence.
“I was going to say see your brother again,” I remarked.
His eyes shifted briefly to me before returning to look out the window. Several minutes passed before he said, “My father is in the early stages of dementia. He isn’t lucid for long enough periods to do something like email me, and I doubt he checks my mother’s email account for anything.”
His declaration surprised me, since I hadn’t seen any stories about Chandler Wilder’s declining mental health in the news.
And something like that would have made the news.
After all, the man had etched his name into history by defying the Supreme Court’s ruling making gay marriage legal.
He’d gone so far as to order the county clerks in his state not to issue marriage licenses.
He’d eventually caved, but the high-profile nature of the case had made him a household name and he’d become a political lightning rod.
The fact that his mental health was on a rapid decline would have been a significant story.
“It’s being kept secret?” I asked.
Nathan nodded. “My mother moved him to Louisiana. Her sister lives there. The few people in his inner circle who know have convinced his supporters that he’s chosen an early retirement so he can reaffirm his commitment to God.
People are convinced Brody’s and my defection have him seeking solace in his faith. ”
“Would your mother give out your email?” I asked.
He was silent for a moment before saying, “I’d like to believe she wouldn’t, but I can’t be sure.”
The words were enough to tell me there was more to the story there, but I didn’t press him. It was irrelevant anyway. If the guy emailing Nathan had enough skill to mask his IP address, he sure as shit had enough skill to find his personal email without any help.
“When did the emails start mentioning Brody?” I asked.
“About a month after they started. The first one said if I continued on the course I was on, I’d burn in hell like my…like Brody.”
“That’s not what it said,” I said.
Nathan’s eyes jerked to mine. “What?”
“Beck’s uncle told me what the emails said,” I lied, since I wasn’t ready to tell him I’d read the email myself. “It said you’d burn in hell like your faggot brother.”
Nathan closed his eyes and swallowed hard. “Don’t,” he whispered.
“Don’t what?” I asked.
“Don’t use that word. Please.”
I knew which word he was talking about, of course. What I didn’t know was why it bothered him so much. Yeah, it was ugly and cruel, but it was reality. I’d been called that very word more times than I could count, and I had no doubt Nathan’s brother had, too.
“It’s just a word, Nathan.”
“It’s not,” he said harshly as he fisted his hands on his thighs. His reaction was over the top. I considered him for a moment before understanding dawned.
“You called him that, didn’t you?” I asked gently.
“I can’t,” he whispered. I saw him dash at his eyes just before he turned away to look out the window. Before I could stop myself, I reached out to cover one of his fisted hands with mine.
“I won’t say it again, okay?”
He nodded, but it took several long seconds of me rubbing his clenched fingers before he relaxed his hand until it was spread palm down on his thigh. I’d already settled my hand on top of his before I realized what I was doing and jerked it away from him. Luckily, he didn’t seem to notice.
“What did you do when you saw that first email?”
“I panicked,” he said. “I didn’t know where Brody was.
After he…after he came out to our family, he moved away.
We didn’t keep in touch, so I didn’t know where he’d gone at first. Some reporters eventually found him in Florida when the shit with my father and the Supreme Court ruling happened, but I didn’t reach out to him at the time.
After the email, I hired a private investigator to find him. ”
“And when you got the second email?” I probed.
“I freaked because the guy talked about going to talk to Brody. I knew if I could find him using a private investigator, he could too.”
“So you went to Dare to warn him.”
He nodded. “I knew it was a risk, but I had to take it.”
“Risk?” I asked.
“That the guy would follow me there. I did my best to cover my tracks…I didn’t use my email or anything to make the reservation for the flight. I just went to the airport and got a ticket for the flight to Montana. My assistant put the rental car in her name, stuff like that.”
“Were there any other emails referencing Brody?”
“A couple, but just more of the same stuff. Warnings about me being on the wrong path and that it was Brody’s fault.”
“Was it ever more than just the emails?” I asked.
I only knew about the vandalized car, but when Nathan paled, I knew there was more.
“Tell me,” I murmured as I put my hand on his again. I was stunned when he wrapped his fingers around mine briefly before moving his hand away.
“I’m not sure about some of the stuff,” he hedged.
“Tell me anyway. Every little bit helps.”
“Um, I started noticing little things around the house every now and then. A book on the bookshelf pulled out just a little bit farther than the rest, a glass left out on the counter on days when my housekeeper wasn’t scheduled to stop by, a favorite tie clip or cufflinks going missing…
I just thought it was me being forgetful. ”
“What else?”
“A flat tire now and again, missing mail and packages…all things that could be explained away.”
“When did you know something had changed?”
Nathan hesitated before saying, “I came home one night and found...I found the body of this stray cat I used to sometimes feed just outside my patio door. Its neck had been broken.”
I stiffened at that.
“Did you tell someone?” I asked.
He shook his head. “No.”
“Why the fuck not?” I snapped. When he didn’t answer me, I said, “Did the cat happen before or after you went to Dare?”
“Before…I left the very next day. The second email about the guy going after Brody had come that morning.”
“You didn’t tell Brody about the cat, did you? Or the other stuff?”
Nathan shook his head.
“Why not?”
“Because I knew what he would have done if I had. As much as he hated me, I knew he’d still have my back. He was always a better man than me.”
“And you didn’t want to risk putting him in further danger,” I murmured.
“Of course not. I don’t…I don’t get a pass on what I did to him because of all this,” Nathan snapped as he motioned between us. “I could see it in his eyes when I left,” he murmured.
“See what?”
“That he was going to forgive me.”
“And that’s so bad why?” I asked.
“Because what I did was unforgivable.” His voice was so thick with regret I felt my own throat tighten in response.
“Nate-”
“It’s Nathan!” Nathan snapped, his voice raw. “Are we done?” he asked as his pain-filled eyes turned to meet mine.
I wasn’t done, but I knew he was. “We’re done,” I acknowledged.
He didn’t say anything; he just turned his gaze back out the window. We didn’t speak again until I pulled the car past the heavy iron gate at the end of my driveway.