Tarnished (19 page)

At the sight of his uniform, my knees went weak. If the guard got to us before we broke the story, he would turn us in to the police. And I already knew what happened once the police found me. They wouldn’t care about news stories or dying pets. They would only care about returning property to its rightful owner. They would only care about returning me to the congressman.

My body moved before my mind had time to reconsider.

“We have proof that Greenwich Kennel is killing babies!” The words burst out of my mouth, so loud that they echoed off the granite floors.

The security guard paused, glancing back at Ms. Westly, but her face was unreadable. The angry slant of her brow had frozen on her forehead. Her tight lips opened ever so slightly, but whether it was the beginning of a sneer or a smile, I couldn’t tell.

“Ma’am?” the security guard asked, looking between us. “You still need me to escort them out?”

“No, no, never mind, Bob. Thank you.” She waved him away and he returned happily to his spot behind the desk.

She turned back to us, a rehearsed smile on her face. “It does sound like an interesting story, really, but you’ll have to forgive me for saying it sounds unlikely.”

She gave us a final shake of her head before she stalked toward the elevators, her heels clicking loudly against the tile floors.

“But—” Penn started.

“They’re killing babies, you idiot!” Missy growled.

Ms. Westly jabbed her finger impatiently into the button.

“We have proof!” I shouted. “We have files that we stole from the kennel.”

In front of her, the elevator doors binged, opening with a swoosh, but she didn’t step forward.

“There are legal forms and doctor’s records,” Penn said. “They’ve been hiding it for years. Probably since the program started. There are so many things happening there. Bad things. It’s all in the files.”

Ms. Westly turned, studying us all more closely, as if she was finally seeing us. Her eyes widened as she focused on me and a look of recognition crossed her face. She saw it now: two pets and the son of a prominent politician. She nodded slowly.

“We aren’t lying,” I said. “They’re killing babies. And the longer we wait, who knows how many more will die.”

“You’re sure?” she said, but her eyes gleamed with something that looked like hunger.

“Just let us show you the files,” I said. “Please.”

She gave a nod and motioned for us to follow after her. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I should have listened, but I’m swamped. If you knew how many people I get in here trying to push their ideas at me… I have to be careful that—”

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” Missy said.

Ms. Westly’s gaze traveled down to the file that Missy still held. She licked her lips. “That’s it?”

Missy nodded and her fingers tightened a little around the folder.

“Look, why don’t you all come with me,” Ms. Westly said. “I’ll get us a boardroom and you can show me what you’ve got.”

T
he security guard buzzed us through a metal gate and we followed her to a small room down the hall. She closed the door behind us and motioned for us to sit at a large table. The reflection of the sky floated across the top of the polished wood surface. The three of us sat down tentatively in a row, and she made her way to the other side of the table, pulling out a chair across from us.

“I don’t want to get your hopes up,” she said. “My producer is very particular about protecting the station from lawsuits. If the story seems suspicious in any way, we won’t be able to air it. Especially when the accusations are as serious as these.”

She glanced down at the file, which now sat on the table.

“It’s legitimate,” Penn said.

“How long have you been sitting on this information?” she asked.

“We came straight here,” he said. “We didn’t know where else to go.”

“And you obtained this file yourself?”

Penn shook his head. “Ella and Missy did.”

She glanced between our faces, finally settling on mine. “You got this from inside Greenwich Kennel?”

I nodded.

“How?”

“We stole them,” I said, bluntly. “Is that a problem?”

She shook her head, seemingly unconcerned about whether or not it was legal. “Well, I’m certainly not going to report you, if that’s what you’re asking. I’m more concerned about getting the public a good…” She took a deep breath, reconsidering. “An
honest
story.

“We’ve done stories on pets before,” she went on. “The public was concerned at first, but as you can imagine, their attention spans are short. People get worked up about something until the next issue comes along. I hate to say it, but I’m not sure anyone cares anymore, especially now that the legislation has officially passed. It just isn’t news.”

“But
this
is news,” Penn said, smacking his hand down on the pile of papers. “They’re killing babies! Human babies! And for what? Because they’re sub-par? Who gets to decide something like that? And paying the surrogate mothers not to talk about any of this? It’s not right and everyone needs to know it.”

Ms. Westly nodded. “I doubt people will be crazy about the fact that there are surrogate mothers involved, but honestly, it’s the babies that will sell the story.”

“Then see for yourself,” Penn said, sending the papers skidding across the wide table.

Ms. Westly grabbed them greedily. The three of us sat quietly as she opened the file. Her eyes flicked from side to side as she scanned the page before flipping to the next and then the next. She leaned forward, pulling the papers even closer, and the look on her face changed. The mask that she’d been wearing since we first saw her slipped away. She wasn’t the stiff, fake TV persona that we’d seen since we met her. Her face grew animated. Her brow furrowed and stretched. Sometimes her lips moved as she read and reread words.

“My God,” she breathed.

Chapter Nineteen

F
inally she flipped the file closed and sat for a long moment, just staring down at the pale beige backside. When she looked up at us, her eyes were bright.

Penn reached under the table and squeezed my hand.

“Well, you weren’t kidding,” she said. “There’s a story in here. A big one. And we’re going to blow it out of the water. Is this all you have? Is there anything else?”

“Oh, no. There’s more,” Missy said. “They’re killing full-grown pets, too. Probably hundreds of them. I think they’re scared this is going to get out, so they’ve been trying to breed them instead of using these other women, but it doesn’t work. They always die.”

Ms. Westly’s lips pursed. “Yes, that’s horrible,” she said. “But I don’t want to spread this story too wide. We have to focus on one thing or the audience will get confused.”

Missy narrowed her eyes, but she didn’t argue.

Ms. Westly patted the folder. “Do you have anything else like this?”

“We have a few more files,” I said.

“And you’d let me see them?”

I nodded. There were almost a dozen files like the one in front of her and she could have them all. There was only one that I wanted to keep.

“So, you’ll do it?” I asked.

“If you’re willing to give this to me for an exclusive, I can promise that every news station in the country is going to wish they were the ones that broke this story. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if we get picked up by national news outlets.” A smile blossomed across her face. “Hell, we could go worldwide with this.”

“Here’s the thing,” Penn said. “A lot of very important, very dangerous people are going to be pissed off if this breaks. I know because my dad is one of them.”

“Congressman Kimble?” Ms. Westly asked.

Penn nodded.

“I thought I recognized you from the press conference.”

“This could ruin him,” Penn said. “Seriously, this kind of scandal? I don’t know if he can bounce back from it.”

She chuckled. “Yes, there are going to be a lot of very rich, very upset people.”

“So what I want to know…” Penn said, “is can you keep Ella and Missy safe? If not, then we can’t let you run the story.”

“What are you talking about?” Missy snapped. “Of course we’re running the story. I don’t care how dangerous it is.”

“She’s right, Penn,” I said. “It has to be done. NuPet has to be stopped. We didn’t go through all the trouble to get this information to just sit on it.”

“Not if you’re going to get hurt,” Penn said. “It was bad enough letting you go back inside that kennel before we knew how bad things were.” He shook his head. “I really don’t think they’d hesitate to kill you, Ella. Maybe a part of me kind of doubted it before, but now…”

Ms. Westly’s gaze tracked between the three of us, a worried look replacing the unbridled excitement she’d worn only a few minutes earlier. Maybe she was legitimately concerned about us, the way Penn was, or maybe she was scared that the biggest story of her career was slipping away.

“What if I can promise to keep them safe?” she asked.

Penn stared at her. “How?”

“We’ll put all three of you up in one of the company’s houses,” she said. “Make sure you have everything you need while the story breaks. You won’t have to worry about anything.”

“What else?” he asked.

“I won’t use any information related to Ella or Missy,” she said. “If you supply me with the other files, I’ll have plenty of material. These stories are always better with a personal element, but I’m confident I can get one of these women to talk.”

“But those legal forms?” Penn said.

She waved his observation away. “Most of these women aren’t going to talk, but there’s always one. The lure of fame is enough to make almost anyone reconsider their prior arrangements.”

Penn leaned forward, urgency tightening his eyes. His mouth. “And after the story? What happens a week from now? A month?”

“We have resources,” she said. “Connections with people whose entire job is to protect whistleblowers. They can help you.”

Penn continued to stare at her. It was impossible to know what was going on in his mind. Was he imagining what our life would be like if we went ahead with the story? Or was he trying to play out the other scenario? Either way was a gamble. I knew what he wanted, to see our future like a clear, bright path before us, instead of this blind darkness.

Finally, he leaned back. “Okay.” He nodded. “What’s next?”

Ms. Westly didn’t try to hide her smile. “You get me those files, I’ll take care of the rest.”

A
fter our stay in the motel, and then in the kennel, I couldn’t wait to get to the house that Ms. Westly had arranged for us. For the past two hours, as she’d made calls and pored over the files in the boardroom, I’d done nothing but fantasize about a bed. I was hungry for one, hungrier for the soft white sheets and fluffy pillows of a big bed than I was for a hot meal.

It was late in the afternoon by the time we pulled up in front of the two-story townhouse. Ms. Westly had offered to drive us, but Penn had insisted on taking our own car, no matter how beat up it was.

He shook his head, coming to a stop in front of the red brick building. “This thing is in the middle of downtown,” he muttered.

The street was busy. Cars rushed by and a few people strolled down the sidewalk.

Ms. Westly hopped out of her car and trotted over to Penn’s window, motioning for him to roll it down.

“How is this hiding us?” Penn asked.

“It’s a quiet building,” she said. “I think it’ll surprise you. Besides, you’re safer in an urban area than in some remote location. Believe me.”

Penn sighed, obviously too tired to argue.

“There’s an alley around back,” Ms. Westly said. “No one will see you coming or going.”

She dashed back to her car and we followed her into a quiet alley that ran behind the buildings. The little backstreet was empty except for a couple cars and a row of garbage cans. We parked next to a small Dumpster and gathered up our few measly belongings.

We’d given more than half of the files to Ms. Westly, but there was still a large stack left in the garbage bag. Penn eyed them warily. I knew that he wanted to be rid of them. He wanted to shred them, to burn them, anything to separate them from us, as if they were something toxic and dangerous.

“Can’t we just throw them in the Dumpster?” he asked.

“I don’t think we should get rid of them yet,” I told him, straightening the stack of folders. I wrapped them tightly in the plastic garbage bag and tucked them up under the backseat. I didn’t want to say it aloud, but I worried we’d still need them.

“It’s right this way,” Ms. Westly said, interrupting us.

She swept us up the small back staircase, fiddled with the lock on the back door, and ushered us into a warm sitting room.

Without the constant pump of adrenaline through our veins, the past few days finally caught up to us and Missy, Penn, and I stared slack-jawed at our surroundings, hardly able to take it in.

Ms. Westly waited for us to speak. She looked around the room, too as if she were trying to see it from our point of view.

“Well, I’m sure it’s not quite what you’re used to, but it’s comfortable,” she finally said, presumably taking our silence for distaste.

“No, no,” Penn said, shaking his head and focusing on the room. “It’s perfect, really.”

She paused for a moment as if she were deciding whether or not to believe him. “Good. My assistant stocked the fridge and arranged for a couple of changes of clothes for all of you. I can’t guarantee that they’ll fit perfectly, but…” She shrugged. From the look on her face I guessed she wanted to say that at least they would be better than what we were wearing now, but her tact stopped her.

We each thanked her, nodding numbly as we followed her from room to room as she listed everything we’d need to know about the house. Finally, we made our way back to the room we’d started out in. She sighed as though she’d even exhausted her own attention.

“So that’s it,” she said, making her way to the back door. “I’ll be in touch. If everything goes as planned, the story will run in a few days. You just lie low. Don’t go anywhere. Don’t call anyone besides me. If you need to get in touch, there’s a landline in most of the rooms. Here’s my number.” She handed us each a card. “My home number is on the back, but only call it if there’s an emergency. I’m hardly there anyway.”

“Thank you,” I said, stepping closer to her.

We hadn’t been raised to show physical affection, but it didn’t seem like enough to simply say the words. I wrapped my arms around her waist and her body stiffened. She stood without moving for a moment, shocked perhaps. Finally her body loosened just a little.

“It’s really no trouble,” she said, raising a hand to awkwardly pat my back. “I hope the story will make a difference. I’ll do my best. I promise.”

F
or the next twenty-four hours that promise hung in the air like strong perfume that had soaked into the fibers of the couch, the rug, the drapes. Every once in a while we’d get a whiff of it and the hope that the story would actually change things would make us take a deeper breath, holding it inside our lungs for as long as we could.

As soon as Ms. Westly left, the three of us had stumbled into the bedrooms, collapsing from exhaustion. We rose only once to eat a picnic of cheese and sliced turkey on the bedroom floor before we crawled back under the covers, each falling into a deep, motionless sleep.

It was already well past three when I woke the next day. Next to me, the bed was empty, the pillow crumpled and indented with the shape of Penn’s head. I rose up on one elbow and looked around the room. The curtains were drawn, but the sun illuminated the yellow fabric, making the room appear golden.

I crawled out of bed and padded down the hall. The door was cracked to the room where Missy had fallen asleep. From where I stood, I could only see a bit of the bed. Her arm was flung above her head with her hand hanging limply off the edge of the mattress. For a moment I considered waking her, but the slow rise and fall of her breathing sounded too peaceful. I didn’t have the heart.

Downstairs, Penn stood at the front window with his arms folded over his chest. The curtains were only parted a few inches, wide enough for him to peer through without being seen from the street.

“You’re up,” he said, folding me into his side as soon as I reached him.

“Have you been awake long?” I asked.

“A couple hours,” he said. “Ms. Westly called.”

My pulse quickened and I stepped back from the window, remembering that there could be people out there watching us, people that wanted nothing more than to hurt us, to get rid of us.

“What did she say?”

“She just wanted to give us a heads up,” Penn said. He must have sensed my discomfort because he backed away from the window, too. “I guess things are going better than she anticipated. She’s talking about airing the story tonight.”

“That’s good, right?” I asked.

He smiled, pulling me back into his arms. “Yeah, it’s good.”

“So by tonight…” I couldn’t finish. My throat constricted. I was almost too scared to think of what I actually wanted to say.

“…things could finally change for us,” Penn said. He traced a finger along the side of my face. “We could really be together. Not just in secret. Can you imagine how awesome that would be?”

He leaned in, his lips hot and sweet against mine, the taste of him like a memory that left me tipsy, and all at once that familiar ache broke open inside me.

My head tipped back and his lips moved down my neck, each kiss a tiny golden coin pressed against my skin. So soft. So delicate. A small moan broke free from my lips like a sob. Pain and pleasure existed on the same plane.

Penn eased me back across the couch and his hands found my hips. His fingers wound around the belt loops of my jeans and he pulled me against him, his own hips pressing into mine. Softly, slowly, his fingers lifted the edges of my shirt, grazing the strip of skin above my pants. It was just the smallest touch, but my skin burned from it.

My lips found his again and I drank him in. I felt like a girl who had been stranded in the desert. Parched. Thirsting for this. I grabbed his shirt, then mine, peeling back the layers that separated us. I wanted to feel him against me, on top of me, inside me, the heat of his skin, the weight of his body.

“I love you, Ella,” he breathed, the words hot in my ear.

My body pressed against him, wanting to tell him how much I loved him without words. It was there, all over me. I wrapped it in my arms, pressed it against my chest.

I closed my eyes and let the fire consume me.

Finally, we collapsed against the pillows, breathing hard. I lay my head against Penn’s chest, resting my cheek over his thundering heart.

“I don’t want to get my hopes up, but I can’t help it,” he whispered. “We’re so close.”

He was right, but I was afraid to hope. It was there, in front of us. I could almost see the shape of it, solid and whole like a figure emerging from the fog.

“All I want is to be a normal person,” I said.

Penn tucked a lock of hair behind my ear, staring down at me. “You’ll never be just a normal person.”

I frowned. “But you said—”

“I don’t care what happens with the kennel, or my dad, or this law. You’ll always be extraordinary,” Penn said. “And I’m not talking about how you look. I’m talking about who you are.”

My cheeks warmed.

“You’re biased,” I said.

“No.” He shook his head. “It isn’t just me. Look what you’ve done. Without you, this story would still be hidden inside those drawers back at the kennel.”

“Don’t forget Missy,” I said, nudging him in the ribs.

“Sometimes I’d like to.” He laughed. “But seriously, if they really do blow the top off of this story there’s probably going to be an investigation. There’s no way the kennel can hide what it’s been doing. My dad can’t pay enough people to keep this quiet.”