Control (Harper Security Ops #18)

Thirteen

THIRTEEN

Alana

My finger trembled slightly as I pressed the tip of it to the doorbell.

There had been many instances throughout the course of my career as a reporter when I got myself into uncertain situations. But even in those cases, I didn’t feel this level of nerves.

And I wondered if this was the result of me having gotten just a bit too comfortable being at home over the last couple of days and needing to jump back into the work now, or if this was more about what I was gearing up to do at this very moment.

Something told me it was the latter, what I was preparing to do.

Over the last couple of days, I’d done as the doctor had ordered and stayed home, resting and relaxing in hopes of helping my foot heal faster while alleviating some of the swelling.

Ty had stayed with me all day long, only leaving to go home once I was ready for bed. And he returned bright and early the next morning, so he could continue to dote on me. Despite my insistence that he didn’t need to waste his time while I was just sitting around, Ty refused to abandon me. And he didn’t complain.

Of course, after our fun-filled day of me practicing recording a podcast and us playing video games together, I felt compelled to get back to work in some capacity. Ever determined to get to the bottom of the story, I had gone through my notes and talked with Ty about my frustrations the next day. He came up with an excellent idea to do something like a tip line. Obviously, my goal wasn’t to interfere with an ongoing police investigation. But instead of asking directly for information about Annie’s death, I could run with the same story I’d been telling everyone else I’d interviewed so far.

Since Annie Sanders had been such an influential person in the community, there was the likelihood she could have impacted the lives of people nobody knew anything about, because there wasn’t an official charitable organization that had been donated to. It was possible that by finding a way to connect with some of those people instead of organizations and digging deeper into an even more personal side to Annie, I might be able to uncover something that could give me a new lead.

Fortunately, we were able to put together a campaign rather quickly, and we even built a website with our downtime—something I thought might come in handy if I chose to take his advice and consider podcast news instead of continuing my career in legacy media. And now that we’d given my foot a couple of days to rest, I was hoping to be able to get some information that would help propel this case forward.

But I was nervous.

Because I’d convinced Ty that our next stop needed to be with Annie’s parents. I was desperately hoping they’d be willing to speak to me. After pressing the doorbell, I turned my gaze in Ty’s direction. He seemed completely composed.

“I’m nervous,” I whispered.

“You’ll be fine. I’ve seen you do this so many times already. You’re amazing, Alana. Just be yourself; you have nothing to worry about.”

Although I recognized he was referring to my ability to do my job, hearing Ty call me amazing meant everything to me. And somehow, that helped me to relax just a bit.

The Sanders family owned an exquisite mansion on a sprawling estate, so when the door opened and it wasn’t a butler on the other side, I was a bit awestruck. Being such a popular family, I recognized Annie’s brother immediately. His eyes shifted between Ty and me, his stare a touch intimidating and slightly annoyed.

Wanting to quell any tension, I immediately spoke. “Hello, Reed. My name is Alana, and this is Ty. I apologize for bothering you at home, but?—”

“This is my parents’ home,” he corrected me, his tone firm.

“Yes. Right. Sorry. I’m an independent journalist, and I’ve been working on a…” My voice trailed off as the door began to close.

“Reed, who is that?”

The door stopped moving at the question that came from somewhere deeper in the house. Reed didn’t respond, and a moment later, the door opened wider. Annie’s mom had filled my vision.

“Hello,” she greeted me.

I smiled at her. “Hello, Mrs. Sanders. My name is Alana, and this is Ty.”

She offered a nod. “How can I help you?”

“She’s a reporter,” Reed spat. “I bet you can’t possibly imagine why she’s here, can you?”

Reed knew this was about his sister, and it was clear, without even knowing any specifics as to why I was here, that he wasn’t interested in a single thing I had to say.

I tried to be sympathetic to it, recognizing that he’d just lost his only sibling in the most horrific manner not even a full two months ago. Focusing my attention on Mrs. Sanders, I explained, “I’m an independent journalist, and I’ve been working over the last few weeks on putting together a story on your daughter. First, let me say how truly sorry I am for your loss. I can’t imagine the pain you all must be going through. But I’m hoping I can help with that.”

“Help?”

I offered a slight nod in return. “Annie was such a bright light in this town, and I was hoping to do a legacy piece on her. She accomplished a lot in the time she was here, and I thought everyone in the community could really use something positive after such a devastating loss.”

I half expected Mrs. Sanders to slam the door in my face, especially with her son brooding behind her, but instead, she stepped back, opened the door a bit wider, and said, “Please, come in.”

“Thank you.”

Ty urged me inside ahead of him, and the two of us following Mrs. Sanders into her formal living room just off the left of the grand foyer.

We hadn’t even made it to the couches when a voice sounded behind us. “My apologies, Monica. Can I get you something?”

I spun around to see a well-dressed man standing there with an apologetic look on his face.

“Yes, Alfred. Would you please get our guests some coffee?” she asked him. Apparently, I hadn’t been wrong about there being a butler. She turned her attention in our direction and asked, “Is coffee okay?”

“That’s perfect,” I assured her, thinking it wouldn’t be wise to insult a woman like Monica Sanders in her own home. “Thank you.”

“Please, have a seat,” she said, gesturing to the couch opposite of where she was standing as Alfred took off to get the coffee.

Ty and I sat down, Mrs. Sanders sitting on the couch opposite us, and her son made his way to the window on the far side of the room. He kept his gaze focused outside, but I didn’t doubt his attention was on everything that was happening inside this room.

For a fleeting moment, I diverted my eyes to Ty. He inclined his head ever-so-gently as he sent a reassuring smile my way. Following several beats of assessing silence, Annie’s mom asked, “So, tell me again. What is this you’re doing?”

“I’ve spent a couple of weeks now working on planning to put together a news piece on your daughter, Mrs. Sanders,” I started.

“Please, call me Monica,” she begged. “Mrs. Sanders is my mother-in-law, and we like to keep things separate so they’re clear.”

I nervously bit my lip and dipped my chin with understanding. That this woman was focused on something that seemed insignificant when her daughter had been murdered so recently was unsettling.

My mind immediately drifted to thoughts of my own mother, or Yasmine’s mom. They were both nearly inconsolable, and Yasmine and I were still alive. I couldn’t imagine how they’d be if the worst had happened to either one of us.

“Okay. Well, so, as I mentioned, and I’m sure you’re already well aware, Annie had such a tremendous impact on the people in this community. So, I decided to reach out to some of the organizations that I know she was involved with, and I have to tell you that even though I already knew she was an incredible person, my eyes have been opened to a whole other side of her. You should be so incredibly proud of your daughter.”

“I appreciate you saying that. Her father and I certainly don’t have any regrets as it pertains to Annette.”

A sound came from the far side of the room, and I realized Reed had huffed. Evidently, he didn’t like what he’d just heard, and I wondered if Monica would have said the same about her son.

Alfred returned with coffee, placing a tray down on the table between the couches.

“Thank you, sir,” Ty said, reaching to take a mug from Alfred.

“My pleasure. If there is anything else you need, please do not hesitate.”

The man was so sweet, even if he seemed on edge. Ty and I had only been here for a matter of minutes, and I didn’t doubt he could feel the tension in the room the same as me. I could only imagine what had been happening before we arrived between Monica and her son and how it might have impacted someone like Alfred. After he’d distributed the coffee along with a side of cookies, Alfred left the room.

Returning my attention to Monica, I asked, “Is your husband around? I don’t want to inconvenience anyone, but if you think he’d like to speak with us, I’m happy to wait.”

She shook her head. “No. No, Sully’s poured himself into work these last few weeks,” she explained. “I think this would be far too difficult for him.”

“I understand. I just wanted to make that an option in case,” I explained. “So, as I said, I’ve been learning a lot about Annie. And I had originally considered just speaking to individuals in the community, but the more I’ve heard, the more I believe it’d be so wonderful to have her family involved in this. I think it would just give it a more personal touch to hear from the people who saw her in her everyday life.”

Monica’s eyes dropped to her coffee mug. She hesitated, returned her attention in my direction, and asked, “What is your goal in doing this?”

Was she against it?

Granted, she couldn’t technically stop me from reporting on something, but given what I’d shared with her, I couldn’t understand why she wouldn’t want me to do this. Of course, it was entirely possible that she just wanted to be sure I wasn’t fishing for dirt. It wasn’t unheard of for reporters or journalists to have ulterior motives. I had one now, though it wasn’t because I intended to write something horrible about a woman who had proven to be one of the very best Steel Ridge had to offer.

“Inspiration,” I declared.

“Pardon?”

I smiled at her. “I can think of no better way to honor Annie’s legacy than by doing something that could possibly make others feel inspired to live with a similar mindset. What happened to her is absolutely devastating. God, it’s awful. In spite of that, I have to believe that Annie would want others to be inspired by the work she did.”

Another grunt came from Reed, forcing our attention in his direction. Ty’s body tensed beside mine.

“Reed, please,” Monica begged, the pleading in her tone powerful enough to make my heart pound harder.

“Please what?” he clipped.

“Stop this.” Her voice was firm, the same way a mother would keep it to warn their child they were entering dangerous territory.

But just like a toddler whose sole job it was to push the boundaries and see how far he could go, so did Reed. “Inspire people? Are you joking me, Mom? All Annie did was worry about everybody else. She’d have lived in poverty if it meant saving the world.”

Though I kept my head pointed in Reed’s direction, my eyes shifted toward Ty. No doubt he was thinking the very same thing as me.

“It made her happy,” Monica said. She was trying to regain some semblance of pleasantness in the room again. The way her voice had pitched higher told me she was hoping to save face.

“Yeah. Dad worked his ass off all his life, and Annie would have blown the entire fortune on everyone in Steel Ridge and beyond.”

There were at least a dozen things I wanted to say in response, but I refused to interrupt what was clearly a family issue. In fact, in any other situation, I would have excused myself and offered to come back at another time. But considering my real reason for being here, I didn’t want to miss this.

“That’s enough, Reed.”

He grunted. “Whatever.” Reed didn’t give us a second glance as he stormed out of the room.

“I’m so sorry,” Monica lamented.

Shaking my head, I insisted, “Please don’t apologize. I can only imagine how everyone’s emotions must be at a time like this.”

Her expression turned grave. “Yes, that is true.” After letting out a deep sigh, Monica said, “I don’t know what information you’re looking for me to give you for your story. I’m a little out of sorts. While we’ve had some wonderful moments over the years, the truth is that Annie was always so busy helping everyone out, trying to fix all the wrongs in the world, I’m not sure we saw her more than some of the people you may have spoken with already.”

“I understand.”

“If you’d like to know more about her day-to-day, you’d probably have more success with her closest friends, Clover Moran and Bethany Daniels. I’d be happy to give you their contact information, and I’ll even let them know to expect a call from you.”

Nodding, I smiled. “That would be wonderful. I appreciate that.”

“Sure.” When she stared back at me with an expectant look on her face, I said, “Okay, well, I guess we should get going. I apologize for intruding on you like this, Monica, but I do appreciate your time.”

I set my coffee mug down on the tray, Ty doing the same. We stood as Monica did, and we all moved toward the front door.

“Let me grab you the numbers for the girls,” she said. “Please give me one moment.”

“Absolutely. Take your time.”

Standing alone with one another in the foyer, Ty and I exchanged uneasy looks. This hadn’t gone anything like I’d planned, but I couldn’t say it was a total waste of a trip. It was the most eye-opening interview we’d had with anyone since we started.

Monica returned with a slip of paper containing the names and numbers of Annie’s friends. I took it and thanked her again, and before I knew it, I was back in Ty’s car.

The second he got in and closed his door, we both let out a sigh of relief. “Well, if nothing else, I can at least say we’re making progress.”

“Yeah, no kidding. There’s something seriously weird going on in that house,” he returned.

“I want to believe they’re just overwhelmed with grief, but I just can’t seem to shake the feeling that it’s much deeper than that.”

Ty put the car in drive and turned around in the driveway to leave. As he approached the end of the driveway, he said, “Reed Sanders gives me a bad vibe.”

“That much was obvious. Something is off with Monica Sanders, if you ask me.”

Coming to a stop at the end of the driveway, Ty looked over at me and asked, “Yeah? What are you thinking?”

I shook my head slowly. “I’m not sure. But let me ask you this. If you were brutally murdered, how would your mom be?”

Understanding dawned in Ty’s expression. “Yeah, she’d be a mess. That woman might have been a mess, but she’s trying to appear the very opposite. Why would that be?”

I shrugged and held up the piece of paper Monica had given me. “I don’t know, but maybe Annie’s friends will have some answers.”

With that, Ty turned out of the driveway and drove us to Grant’s Deli, where he refused to let me buy us both lunch. And since I’d been so rattled by what we’d just witnessed, I couldn’t bring myself to fight him on it.