Chapter 19
The following morning, Ziggy stood at Noah’s kitchen island with her hands wrapped around a mug of coffee that had gone from hot to drinkable somewhere between when she poured it and when she remembered it was there.
She’d barely slept between conversations with her bosses and executives at the station, the police.
Even though exhaustion had settled into her bones, she’d been so wired from what had happened on air, she couldn’t settle her mind.
The house was quiet, but not in a peaceful. More like how she imagined silence would be after a bomb went off and she couldn’t hear because of how deafening the noise had been.
She took a sip and forced herself to focus on all the ambient sounds. The low hum of the refrigerator, the scrape of paper as Jag unwrapped another sandwich—because he was a human disposal— the soft tap of Noah’s fingers against the side of his cup, which he knew annoyed the shit out of her.
She shifted her weight, pressing her bare foot against the cool tile, grounding herself with something that didn’t move.
“Eat this.” Jag pushed one of the wrapped sandwiches in front of her. “You need sustenance.”
“And if you don’t, he’s going to eat the rest of them.” Noah pointed at the sandwiches. “You’re lucky there’s even two left, and he brought over six.”
“Callie doesn’t like me having the take-out, so I stock up when she’s not looking.” Jag raised his like he was toasting the thought and took a big bite.
“There’s something wrong with you.” Ziggy pulled off a piece and plopped it in her mouth. She groaned. “So good.” She climbed up on the stool and caved into the urge to be normal.
Noah pushed his mug aside. “Are you going to tell us why you’re here at eight in the morning, still wearing the clothes you were in last night?”
“I wanted to fill you in on what’s going on with Claire,” Jag said.
Ziggy dropped her sandwich.
Claire.
Hearing her name now made her stomach pitch and roll like she’d been out on a dinghy and was lost at sea in ten-foot waves.
Not a pleasant feeling.
Noah reached out and took her hand.
“They took her right from the prison to the station house,” Jag said. “Brian and Amy told me I could stick around, as long as I didn’t get involved. Just observe from a distance. So, I did.”
Ziggy’s fingers tightened slightly around the edge of the island. She’d liked Claire in the beginning, even though she thought she might be a little too eager, but the girl did do good work. But Ziggy felt betrayed.
“What is she saying?” Noah asked.
“That Matias manipulated her. Threatened her. That everything she did was because she was scared of him.” Jag shrugged.
Ziggy shook her head immediately. “Is that true? Because that’s not how she acted when the show started.
Claire was excited. She didn’t seem nervous at all about being in a prison.
Super focused. Until she was told she would be the one bringing in Noah’s gifts. But maybe she’s just a great actress.”
Noah snorted. “Claire’s calculating. I’m sure she can blend into whatever situation she needs to.”
“I agree with that,” Jag said. “And I got to take a look at the letters and phone transcripts.”
“Seriously?” Noah sat up taller. “I bet my father went looking for someone at the station.”
“No, she started writing to him.” Jag lifted his mug, arched his brow, then took a sip. “Turns out, she likes men who do bad things. They fascinate her, and she reached out to Matias. They struck up a bit of a dirty friendship.”
Ziggy felt her stomach turn, not dramatically, just enough that the bite of sandwich she’d eaten earlier sat heavier in her gut than it should have.
“That’s… disturbing,” she said.
“It’s a thing,” Noah said quietly. “Remember that show we did—”
“Doesn’t make me feel better.” Ziggy shivered.
Jag wiggled his finger between Noah and Ziggy. “Exactly. And Matias played into it. He found her trigger points, and he leaned into them hard, especially when he found out she worked for the same station as Noah.”
Ziggy stared into her mug. “How, exactly?”
“At first, it was just conversation. Simple questions. Nothing that would seem odd on the surface, but when you dissect it, you can see how Matias is stroking her ego and telling her how great she is. How she’s so smart and anyone who can’t see that is an idiot,” Jag said.
“He played into her vanity. Into the things that are important to her. And he spent very little time talking about himself. Only when it was necessary and only when it was tied to her.” He waved a finger at Noah.
“She told him she wanted to work your show more than anything and how she felt you didn’t even see her. ”
Ziggy pressed her hands flat. “It’s rare that Noah looks at the junior floaters. He expects me to do that.”
“Well, eventually, he told her he was Noah’s father.
He played it like, I shouldn’t tell you this.
It’s a big secret. Noah would be so upset if anyone ever found out, so you can’t tell anyone.
If you do, I won’t help you. But he told her he knew Noah’s weak spots and could help her get on the show. Move her career forward.”
Ziggy rubbed her thumb along the edge of the counter. “She’s a smart girl. I can’t believe she fell for that.”
“She wanted something, and she was willing to do whatever it took,” Jag said. “He also had her digging. That’s how he found out you and Noah lied about him turning down the interview five years ago.”
“That’s what triggered all of this?” Ziggy asked.
“Unfortunately, my father was always easily hurt,” Noah said. “What happens now?”
“As far as your dad goes, not much, because he refuses to cooperate,” Jag said.
“He told Amy and Brian they’ve got the phone calls.
The letters. He’s in prison for the rest of his life, so they can go fuck themselves.
He’s not saying another word. Not denying or confessing anything.
He’s just going to sit in prison, eat his three meals, watch television, and work out while he waits to die.
Easy life. I’m paraphrasing a bit, but that’s pretty much the gist of it. ”
“That sounds about right.” Noah chuckled.
“It’s not funny.” Ziggy poked his arm.
“It is if you spent the first fourteen years of your life with him.” Noah smiled.
She tilted her head and frowned.
Noah dropped his gaze to his coffee. Smart man. “What about Claire?”
“She was still at the station when I left, but at that time, they hadn’t arrested her.” Jag pushed off the counter, straightening and stretching his back. “Brian and Amy are confident Claire will be processed today for a Class B felony for assault. That carries a maximum ten-year prison term.”
Ziggy’s head lifted. “Ten years?”
“That’s just the start,” Jag said. “Conspiracy to commit a felony with an inmate could add time—up to half the maximum sentence. Harassment’s in there too, but it doesn’t carry much weight compared to the rest.”
Ziggy leaned back against the stool, the reality of Claire's conviction settling in piece by piece. “What did she think she was going to get out of doing all this?”
“According to the letters, she believed she’d eventually be promoted right up to Ziggy’s job,” Jag said. “Maybe even take over as girlfriend. Who knows?”
“You can’t make this shit up.” Noah scratched the side of his head as he shifted his gaze toward the family room. He glanced at his watch. “Shit. We missed the start of the morning show.” He hopped off the stool.
“We can watch it—”
“No. Hugh is reporting about me.” Noah padded into the family room, grabbed the remote, and rewound the segment to the beginning.
“Do you really want to watch that?” Ziggy asked as she slid off the stool and followed him.
He glanced over his shoulder. “I need to know what people are saying.”
“Even if it’s bad?”
“Especially if it’s bad,” he said.
The segment reset.
“… I started working with Noah Chase before his show Unfiltered aired.
I've learned a lot from him over the years. One of which is that everyone has a story. A history. A past. No one is immune to that. Noah might have been born with the name Angel Salazar. And for fourteen years, Angel lived his life like most of us do as kids,” Hugh said.
A picture of Noah as a kid in hockey gear flashed on the screen.
Ziggy’s chest tightened at the sight of it. She’d seen it before, five years ago, before she’d known it was Noah. And again, shortly after, kicking herself, she hadn’t seen the resemblance. It was subtle, but it was there.
Noah stood in the middle of the room, the remote pressed against his chest, his hand still.
“…He had a mom and a dad. He went to school. He played sports. And according to one of his hockey coaches, he was pretty good. But what happened to Angel doesn't happen to most of the rest of us.”
The screen cut back to Hugh.
“…Angel's world stopped in an instant the day he learned his father raped and killed twelve women.
The life Angel thought he knew, was over.
We can sit here and talk about how those women aren't here anymore, and Angel is.
But Angel didn't do anything wrong. He's as much of a victim as those women are. The same goes for his mom, who ended her life and left Angel without any parents at all,” Hugh said.
Noah dropped his hands to his side and stared blankly at the screen.
“…I’d researched all of this for what I thought would be a three-part interview with Matias Salazar, who promised me—though he lied—that he would tell me things about his son that no one knew.
I spent countless hours digging into Angel and following leads that went nowhere, but I did come to one conclusion before I watched Noah's show last night. And that was that Angel was a person who’d disappeared because he wanted a chance at a life that wasn't overshadowed by being the son of a serial killer.
He wanted the life that had been stolen from him at fourteen.
I can understand that. I can relate to it.
I have my own story, which I won't bore you with now. But before any of us pass judgment on Noah Chase, I want you to consider what it might have been like for him if he hadn’t shed the weight of being Matias Salazar's son.”
Ziggy stepped closer and rested her hand on Noah’s shoulder.
He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her tight.
“I’ve had my differences with Noah,” Hugh said. “And I owe him an apology. I also want to say here, on air, that I have the utmost respect for him, his show, his team, especially his producer, and I think we all need to give him a little grace. This is Hugh Enders reporting live from…”
Noah clicked off the television. “I didn't expect him, of all people, to say that.”
Ziggy’s phone buzzed on the kitchen counter.
Noah’s phone went off, too. He reached for it and glanced at the screen. “It's Andrew. He says that every news outlet is covering the story.”
“Not surprised.” Ziggy picked up her phone, scanning before looking up, a small smile breaking through. “And it's all positive.”
“Most of it. A few think I'm a dick, but that's nothing new.” Noah chuckled.
Ziggy tossed her phone back onto the counter, slipping her arms around him. “I told you no one cares what name you used to have. They only care what kind of man you are. And I love you so very much.”
“I love you, too.”
Five years ago, Ziggy hadn’t known this moment would come. She’d wanted it. She’d dreamed about it. But she never stopped living her life.
And she never gave up on the man she loved.