Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
CHASE
I t turned out if you wanted to know how to leave an anonymous tip with an attorney, the one to talk to was Loretta Boggs, the same Loretta Boggs who was married to Buck Rogers. Forrest had mentioned her name to me after we’d run into Buck at secret poker night. It turns out she used to be a PI. Now, she was the lead investigator with the county sheriff. She’d invited me to meet up with her at their house seeing as how she was currently on maternity leave.
Hey, Loretta. It’s Chase. I’m right outside.
I sent her a text, knowing she was home alone with the babies. Not a minute after I sent my message, she swung open the front door. She and Buck had been to The Noble Pig once or twice this past summer. She had skin the color of chestnuts and a crown of thick coils that brightened to a golden blond and corkscrewed at the end.
“Chase! It’s good to see you. You could’ve rung the doorbell, you know.”
“I wasn’t sure whether the babies were sleeping. I remember those days of not wanting to wake them up.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you had kids. How old are they?”
“No, not my kids—Violet’s. Even when they were babies, she used to bring them to work at the farm. Her youngest is a light sleeper, but her oldest could hear a pin drop.”
She smiled a knowing smile and waved me into her house, then ushered me into the kitchen. Something was mulling on the stove—the source of the smell that had been strengthening since I came in.
“What smells so good?” I wanted to know.
“I’m playing with a recipe for a hot cranberry punch. I figured, you being a foodie, you wouldn’t mind. I was also hoping you would give your honest opinion.”
I could already tell from the aroma how sumptuous the flavor would be. The acidity of the cranberries would be balanced by some caramelized element I smelled—it would be spices, and flavors, and sweetness. It was rare for me to be a guest. So much of my time had been spent hosting. Already, I felt welcome, and at ease.
“I’ve never tasted anything like this,” I complimented when I took my first sip.
“In a good way?” she chuckled.
We spent the next three minutes geeking out over the many underrated uses of burnt sugar.
“But I know my cranberry punch isn’t why you came.”
“I have some questions. Hypothetical ones, of course.”
Buck had already told Loretta the basics. “I found information in classified documents that could serve justice in a civil trial. I want to help the attorney on the right side of things win the case.”
“But you can’t give it to her ’cause it’s classified?”
I wasn’t about to admit to an officer of the law that, legal or illegal, I planned to share that information. So I focused on the other part.
“Let’s say that some of what I know could be discovered independently if they knew what rabbit holes to go down. Could I leak something that would lead them to the classified information without sharing the classified information itself?”
“Maybe,” Loretta hedged. “What are you worried about here? Breaking your NDA?”
“Maybe,” I hedged right back. I was willing to take whatever measures I had to, to make sure Violet would win. But did I also want to not test the anger of the Secretary of the Interior? Hell, yes.
“I mainly want to know what obligation I’ll have to explain how I got the information on the off chance that someone follows that path. For instance, would there ever be pressure for an attorney to reveal their sources?”
Loretta nodded in a way that told me she finally understood. She took a thoughtful sip of her drink before responding.
“Attorneys are in the business of uncovering information. Most good ones keep a private investigator in their employ. Anything that could be found out as a matter of legal surveillance or a matter of public record would be considered fair game. It’s unlikely that a judge would drill down on sources that fit that description. But you’re right—any information that seemed extraordinary in origin would fully be investigated.”
“So what’s my play here? To leave breadcrumbs that could lead to the discovery of publicly available information and to leave the rest alone?”
“If you want to work within the law, yes. If you’ve got a good attorney on the case, they should be resourced to follow leads.”
“What if I’m running out of time?”
Once again, Loretta seemed to think about this a little. “Then make sure your breadcrumbs are huge. Say as much as you can say without it being a riddle.”
“Is there any chance I would ever be called to the stand if someone found out my identity?”
“If your attempts to leak the information backfire, it’s a small risk but—yeah—it’s there.”
A long minute passed with us sipping our drinks, both of us deep in thought.
“Why wouldn’t you want to take the stand?” she finally asked. “If you want justice to be served and you’re already active in a related investigation, why not appeal to the higher-ups to declassify?”
I hadn’t thought of that, but I couldn’t say whether it was even possible.
“The higher-ups are very high.” It was the best way I could explain it for now.
Loretta nodded again.
“Well, apart from that, just be careful. As a former federal employee, your fingerprints are in the system. There are cameras everywhere. And digital footprints are very easy to follow. Leaving something that would be difficult to trace is doable if you take precautions and treat the drop like everyone is watching.”
“You brought the car with the spaceship doors!” Bri began running toward my car the second she spotted me on the curb in front of her school. I’d arrived early to pick her up, so I was one of the first cars in line. The spaceship doors she referred to were the ones on my blue Tesla, the kind that pull upward like wings, rather than outward like…well, doors. She launched herself into my arms for a brief hug, then I handed her the fob, the one I had procured specifically for her enjoyment. They didn’t come standard with this model, but Bri liked to be the one to open just about anything using a remote.
I crossed my arms, stood back, and enjoyed the wonder on her face as she watched the doors slowly open.
“Awesome!” she exclaimed, before slipping off her backpack and tossing it to the far side of the car. I’d attached her booster in a way that sat her behind the passenger seat. That way, I could see her in my peripheral vision while I drove.
“What’d they teach you today in school?” I asked as I merged into traffic. Bri could always be trusted to give me the full account. It took her ten minutes to tell me all about her day. She’d remembered how to spell “believe” on her spelling test; she’d taken out two books from the library; they could wear their costumes to school—but had to take them off before lunch—on Halloween; she wanted to enter the pumpkin decorating contest.
I listened attentively, as I always did, asking questions at all the right times. Animated Bri was a good thing. She was a kid who wore her heart on her sleeve, and these were the best spirits I’d seen her in for days.
Instead of keeping on the road that would take us to Violet’s, I turned right and parked downtown, right across the street from Daisy’s Nut House. When I turned off the engine and glanced toward the backseat, Bri’s eyes were lit up with hope.
“Are we stopping for a treat on the way home?”
I stepped out of the car, closed my own door, and went around to retrieve her.
“Sorry, shortcake. No treats.”
Her face fell a little. “Then what are we doing at Daisy’s?”
“I thought we might go shopping. I heard you need a dress. Didn’t you tell me your school was having a dance?”
Something complicated came over her expression, but she nodded to answer my question.
“You didn’t mention it was a father-daughter dance,” I pointed out gently, crouching down to her level. She’d unbuckled her seat belt, but still sat in the car.
“If you don’t have a daddy, I don’t think you’re allowed to go.” Her head bowed low, and her gaze studied her hands.
“You do have a daddy.” I gave her an affirming look. “One who loved you very much. He’d have given anything to be able to go to that dance with you. “
“I know,” Bri whispered, still looking at her hands. “But he can’t.”
Bri looked close to crying. If she started, I wouldn’t be far behind. I steeled myself, to ask what I’d come to ask.
“After your momma told me about the dance, I was waiting and hoping that maybe you’d ask me. Since you didn’t, I figured I’d have to gather up the courage to ask you myself.”
“You would go to the dance with me?” It broke my heart to hear her voice so small.
“I’ll go anywhere with you, shortcake. Any day. And I know going with me wouldn’t be the same as going with your dad. But, if you’ll have me, taking you to the dance would be my honor.”
She nodded excitedly and smiled more widely than I’d seen her do in a long time. I suspected my grin matched hers.
“So what do you say we see what they’ve got at The Honey Child?”
Two doors down from Daisy’s Nut House was a children’s boutique.
“Last time Mommy took me there, they had a dress that was all strawberries.”
I rose to my feet and held out a hand to usher her out of the car. “Well, let’s just hope they still have it.”
I handed her the remote, so she could use it to close the car door. But she held off. With the hand that didn’t hold the clicker, she reached out and took mine. She looked up at me in earnest and squeezed as she said, “Thanks.”