Chapter 31
Start Fucking Digging
Kiki
Icringe when the number flashes across my screen.
Drake’s lawyer.
This can’t be good. It never is.
I let it go to voicemail, since I’m positive I know what he’s going to say. Just another attempt to convince me to work with them instead of against them.
I wonder how much his lawyer knows. Is he an innocent messenger, ignorant of what’s occurring under his nose? Or is he an active participant? Was he involved with the break-in at my place?
I’ll never know the answers.
At least my cabin is in one piece again.
Mike and the guys did a great job. They installed a new steel door, far more secure than what I had before. A new double-pane window replaced the one they shattered. And free of charge, a new security system to hold the demons at bay.
Not that it makes me feel safe. Nothing does anymore.
They even painted the porch, desperate to hide the slurs written in red across the wood slats, and collected the majority of the mess from inside, placing it into small piles so I might at least be aware of what had been destroyed.
I’m pretty sure my heart and future laid buried in those piles too, but I didn’t bother to look before sending it all to the dumpster.
I thanked Mike for all his help and swore I was fine staying in my cabin, despite his arguments to the contrary. And I was, too, for a whole five minutes. Then I packed a few more bags and hauled my ass back to the job site.
Look, I don’t need the man babysitting me. He has a life of his own, along with a brewing romance to occupy his time.
At this point, I’ve collected all important documents and photos from the cabin, so if Drake’s buddy makes good on his word to torch it, all that will burn are memories I don’t care to keep.
Besides, it looks like I’m relocating across the country to a fully furnished guest cottage. No need to schlep my tired couch along with me.
Do I want to go to Los Angeles? No, but I don’t have a choice.
Even if Drake somehow called off his goons, the town of Sparkwood loathes me.
I have no future here, no opportunity to grow my design business.
Sure, Eddie will continue to toss me jobs, but let’s get real.
It’s too painful to work alongside him knowing he’ll never be mine.
And he made that obvious when he told me to leave.
It’s easier to go. That’s what I keep telling myself.
My phone rings again. Seems Drake’s lawyer isn’t taking silence as an answer.
“Hello?”
“Hello, Kiki. It’s Mr. McGuinnes.”
“Yeah, I know. I saw the caller ID. What do you want?” This man’s client, and his hoodlum friends, are single-handedly destroying my fucking life. I’m done being cordial.
“I wanted to make you aware that Drake is giving an interview with Danielle Mercer.”
My breath catches. “The investigative reporter?”
“Yes. It’s going to be airing on Channel 4 at eight o’clock this evening.”
My legs give out and I crash to the floor, missing the edge of the futon. Sharp pain shoots through my knee, but I ignore it. “Why is Drake giving an interview now? He’s refused all of them.”
“I don’t know all the details.”
Liar. Of course he knows all the details. He’s his fucking lawyer.
“I just wanted to make you aware.”
That’s like telling someone their brake lines are cut moments after they start rolling downhill.
“Great. Thanks. Lot of help you are.” I hang up and pull myself to my feet.
Shit, my knee really hurts, but that’s minor compared to my bigger worry.
Drake’s interview.
From the moment he was arrested, he’s refused everything. No statements. No interviews. Nothing but no comment and silence. Now suddenly, he’s sitting down with a nationally renowned investigative reporter, airing it all out for millions of people to dissect?
Forgive me if I’m scared shitless.
I pace the room, my thoughts spiraling faster with every step. What am I supposed to do? What can I do?
One answer rises to the top. Nothing. Not a damn thing.
I consider calling Drake and forcing him to tell me what the hell he’s planning, but he’s hardly been forthcoming thus far.
No, I’m going to find out the topic of this interview at the same time as everyone else.
“Oh good. Fucking great.” I swipe at the tears gathering in my eyes, my chest tightening as the panic claws its way up my throat.
I want to crawl under the covers and hide. Pretend none of this is happening.
But that’s not an option. Not anymore.
Time to call one of the few friends I have left.
Ash picks up on the second ring, Iris cooing in the background. “Hey, Kiki.”
“Sorry, I know you’re busy.” Understatement of the year. There aren’t enough hours in the day for him to juggle his businesses, house remodeling, and infant daughter.
Doesn’t seem to faze the man though.
“Never stopped you from calling before,” Ash teases. When I don’t reply, the humor drops from his voice. “You okay?”
“No. Drake is giving an interview at eight o’clock tonight.”
“Shit. About what?”
I tug a hand through my hair as a sharp laugh rips from my lips. “That’s the thing. I have no idea. His lawyer claims he doesn’t know either, which we all know is garbage.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I was hoping I could come to your place and watch it with you and Ori. I don’t think I can sit through this by myself.”
“Of course. Come on over. I’ll tell Ori to set an extra place for dinner,” he replies.
“I don’t have much of an appetite.”
“Yeah, well, that’s not going to fly with my woman, so you’re eating something. Even if it’s just a few bites.”
I smile into the phone, because I know he’s not lying. Ori may be tiny but the woman is fierce. “Thanks. I really appreciate you.”
“No problem. Door’s open. Come over anytime.”
Seems Ash decided to call in reinforcements, because when I walk into their place, Mina and Braden are already there.
They don’t hesitate, engulfing me in a bear hug.
Dinner passes with jovial conversation, with topics ranging from gardening to Iris’s latest milestones.
There isn’t a second of silence at the table.
I know everyone’s trying to keep my mind off what’s coming, but let’s get real—that’s not happening.
I feel like I’m awaiting the executioner, and I swear the hands on the clock have started moving backwards.
Still, Ori’s cooking and a glass of wine temper the rough edges a bit.
At eight o’clock, we gather in the living room and flip on the television.
Time to hear what the monster has to say now that he’s been let out of his cage.
The screen flickers to life, the Channel 4 logo fading into a sleek studio set, focusing on a perfectly coiffed redhead in a designer suit. Danielle Mercer.
I usually enjoy her investigative reports. She’s dogged and unafraid to ask the difficult questions, but tonight I’m terrified what more will be exposed about my former life and lover.
Danielle folds her hands in front of her, aiming her gaze at the camera.
“Good evening. Tonight, we bring you a special report. For months, the case of an alleged sex trafficking ring has shaken a small town in upstate New York, sending shockwaves through the community and beyond. Access to key figures in the investigation has been tightly controlled—until now. Earlier today, I sat down with Drake Carver, the former police chief at the center of it all, and learned the truth about his supposed involvement.”
Ori squeezes my hand, offering a reassuring smile. “We’re right here.”
Don’t get me wrong. I’m forever grateful for their support. This small band of friends has been by my side since my world fell apart, but at the end of the day, they return to their happy lives.
I return to loneliness and fear.
The camera cuts to Drake, looking every bit like he did before his arrest in a dark button down shirt and fresh haircut. Looking like the man I once loved.
I shake off a chill rippling through my body.
No, there’s nothing left of that man, Kiki. Hell, I don’t know if that man ever existed.
Danielle shoots Drake a practiced smile. If she’s nervous, she never shows it.
Wish I had an ounce of her moxie.
“Mr. Carver, you’ve declined every interview request since your arrest, including mine. What changed?”
Drake takes a sip of water from his glass, studying the liquid as though the correct answer might be floating on top. “I suppose I did.”
“Hmm. So, you were the police chief of Sparkwood. Decorated and well-respected by the townspeople. How did you go from that to this?” Right out of the gate, she’s pulling no punches.
Drake looks down at his hands as a humorless laugh slips out.
“I used to sit on the other side of this table in my uniform, asking people the same thing. Wondering how someone who seemed like they had it all figured out, could end up so far off track. For me? It’s an easy answer.
I believed in the wrong people. Let my ego get too big.
Thought I was untouchable. By the time I realized how bad it was, it was too late to stop the madness. ”
Danielle quirks a brow at Drake’s reply. “Are you claiming you’re a victim, Mr. Carver?”
He snorts. “Hell no. I’m no damn victim. I’ve done a lot of things wrong and I’ve got a ton of regrets. Working to atone for those acts now.”
“Is that code for working with investigators on this case?”
“I’m cooperating with authorities. Proven myself a useful asset.”
“Holy shit,” Braden murmurs, breaking the silence in the living room. “He’s turned state’s evidence?”
I shrug, as in the dark as everyone else. “Looks that way.”
“Does that mean he’s getting out?” Ori asks, her expression unreadable.
“No idea,” I whisper. “But dear God, I hope not. I’ll never be safe then.”
Ash wraps his arm around me, doing his damndest to soothe the pain. “We’ve got you, Kiki.”
On the screen, Danielle clears her throat, referring to her notes. “There have been reports of a larger financial backer behind this operation. One Kevin Duncan, a financier who’s currently abroad in the UAE. Care to comment on that?”