Chapter 21
Wyatt sat in the dimly lit situation room of HERO Force Atlanta. One wall was covered in monitors, several computers dotting a long desk that ran the length of another. He was numb, news of Hawk’s surgery and cardiac arrest seeming to push him over some psychological ledge.
He’d left Teslyn and Ivy in the conference room, unable to look into Tess’s knowing eyes. The last thing he could handle right now was discussing the situation, or facing the pity he was sure to see in her stare.
Logan worked at one of the computers, light from its monitor silhouetting him in an eerie blue glow as his fingers typed furiously on the keyboard. “Bingo.” He laughed maniacally. “I’ve got you now, Marilyn.”
“What did you find?”
Logan jumped in his seat. “Jesus, Bulldog. I didn’t know you were there. You scared the shit out of me.”
Wyatt sat in a rolling chair next to Logan. “What is it?”
“I couldn’t find any records for a Marilyn Gleason her age.
Not just in high school records, but anywhere.
Then I figured, what if that wasn’t her real first name?
Lots of people go by something other than their legal name.
So I started looking for women in her age bracket with the last name Gleason in Mississippi, and bam, I found Dale Marilyn Gleason, age 43, Clinton High School class of 1997. ”
Logan downloaded and opened a series of files. “And here is their yearbook.” He opened what looked like a scanned image of the yearbook and its pages. “Now we just need to figure out which one of her classmates went on to become a congressman.”
Wyatt watched as the other man cross-referenced the student names with a current list of congressmen, quickly coming up with a name and photograph to go with it. “Meet William Pritchard, republican congressman from the great state of Florida, formerly the Sheriff of Osprey County, Mississippi.”
“That would explain why he had the cops in his pocket. Good work.” Wyatt clapped him on the back.
“Print me a copy of that, will you? And see if you can find anything that positively connects Pritchard to Marilyn.” Even as he said it, Wyatt knew finding evidence was likely to be impossible.
A man like Pritchard wouldn’t have left loose ends.
“I’m on it.”
Wyatt took the photo off the printer and went in search of Teslyn and Ivy, showing it to them both. “Do you know who this man is?”
Teslyn’s mouth dropped open. “That’s Uncle Will. He used to come see us every Christmas. Where did you get this?”
He told her about the yearbook and everything Logan found. “What about you, Ivy? Have you seen him before?”
She shook her head earnestly. “No.”
Wyatt took the paper back. “He went to high school with Marilyn in Clinton, outside of Jackson, Mississippi.”
Teslyn jerked her head back. “Clinton? Are you sure?”
“Yes, why?”
“I know Clinton. It’s an affluent suburb. I can’t imagine my mother setting foot in a town like that, no less going to high school there.”
Wyatt shrugged. “She went there, all right.”
Logan entered the conference room brandishing another printout. “Not only did she go there, she was prom queen, and you’re never going to guess who the prom king was.”
“Uncle Will?” Teslyn took the paper from him. “Oh, my God. That’s him. But I don’t understand. How did Marilyn go from the suburbs of Clinton to a trailer on the bayou in Osprey?”
Logan shrugged. “What causes people to drop in social status? Teen pregnancy, drug addiction, involvement in illegal activity…”
“All things Marilyn, rolled into one.” Teslyn frowned and handed the paper back to Logan. “What do we do now?”
Wyatt ran his hand through his hair. “We need proof, though I doubt we’re going to be able to find any.” He was keenly aware of the trouble Teslyn was in, and exonerating her was necessary to get her life back. But how?
“Congress is on recess,” said Logan. “Pritchard lives with his wife in St. Augustine.”
Wyatt lifted his chin and leveled his stare at Teslyn. “You and Ivy will stay here—”
“But I know him!” Teslyn interrupted. “Maybe I can get him to talk. He used to bring me flowers.”
“You were a kid, Teslyn. He killed your mother and tried to do worse than that,” Wyatt’s eyes shot to Ivy, but he didn’t want to scare her. “He’s a dangerous man with a lot to lose, whether or not he brought you flowers.”
She crossed her arms. “Then give me a better idea.”
“You and Ivy stay here. Logan and I—”
“Not gonna happen,” she interrupted again. “Try again.”
He narrowed his eyes. “You know it isn’t safe for her to come with us.”
She put her index finger on her bottom lip. “If only we knew someone in St. Augustine who could babysit.”
He scowled, knowing she was referring to his father. “We’re not doing that, Tess. No way.”
“I think it works out perfectly. Ivy, grab your things, honey. We have one last little car trip to make.”
“Again?” the girl whined.
Wyatt shook his head and looked at the ceiling. “This is a bad idea.”
“This is a fabulous idea,” Teslyn said, taking him by the arm and tugging him toward the door. “My best one, yet.”
He planted his feet and met her stare with wary eyes. “And what if Pritchard doesn’t admit to anything? What if he calls the cops, and puts an end to this Bonnie and Clyde thing we’ve got going on?”
Ivy was watching their conversation intently. Teslyn turned to the girl and pointed her toward the door. “Wait for us in the hallway, sweetheart. We’ll be right there.”
Teslyn turned back to Wyatt. “When those dogs were after us and the police were closing in, and you were talking to me about dancing,” she touched his face tenderly.
“You were trying to distract me, but all I could think about was the possibility that you or Ivy could be hurt.” She dropped her hand.
“I don’t want to go to jail for something I didn’t do, but I’m not going to keep running and put you two in jeopardy any longer.
We’ll give this one last try, and if it doesn’t work, I’ll have to prove my innocence from the inside. ”
He took her chin between his thumb and fisted fingers.
God, I love you.
The thought caught him off-guard. He didn’t love her. He couldn’t possibly. They’d only just met. What he was feeling was a combination of respect, protectiveness, and warm fuzzy feelings that would quickly fade with time.
He leaned in and kissed her on the lips. “I’ll come visit you. I’ll bake a nail file into a loaf of bread.”
She swatted at his bicep and leaned back. “You ready?”
“For my father? Never.”
She led him out of the room. “Let’s do this.”