Page 19 of Free to Judge
“Even StellaNova doesn’t have this,” I note, referring to the prestigious news outlet where Chuck works, my voice tight with incredulity.
“Kalie, that’s impossible,” Jared insists, his expression mirroring my own dismay.
“Not if someone is scrubbing this,” I counter. My voice is laced with suspicion.
“But why?” he demands, leaning in. “If he wanted to press charges, hell, even if he wanted sympathy duringvoir dire, Conian needs positive media spin. It portrays him as less of a villain. There should be no reason why he wants what happened to vanish.”
“But who has the pull to—” My voice fades as ominous connections begin to form in my mind.
“It’s not necessarily what you’re thinking,” Jared warns, his tone a cautious blend of certainty and unease.
“What am I thinking?” I challenge, my eyes narrowing as I wait for him to articulate the inevitable.
“Just because it involves you doesn’t mean your family is involved. It could be anyone the Byrnes are entangled with.”
“You’re right.”
Jared leans back, considering. “I mean, a corporate giant? Political favor? Plenty of people owe the Byrnes a debt,” he muses aloud.
“But which of those people has the clout to erase every digital footprint of damning evidence?” I press, feeling the pressure intensify with each syllable.
“Admittedly, that narrows the list quite a bit,” he concedes. For a long moment, the hum of the limousine and the swirling autumn hues outside seemed to underscore our grave discussion.
As we wind through tree-lined streets, the landscape unfolding like a painting in rich detail, our destination looms ahead—the estate where my family’s wedding and event planning business is headquartered. Crossing into the town of Collyer, I murmur, “Funny, I left this morning thinking I was just going to back Aunt Em over a minor issue.”
“Now look—you’re back as the first official family felon,” Jared retorts with a wry twist of his lips.
“If what I’m thinking is correct, maybe I’m not the first. Maybe I’m merely the first to get caught,” I counter, images of countless smartphone screens replaying in my mind like a broken reel. In this hyper-connected age, there should be some digital residue—the slightest trace of those videos—unless, of course, you had one or more of the world’s most skilled hackers on the payroll.
Jared’s eyes darken in agreement. “This isn’t a media blackout.”
“No,” I say, voice low and certain, “it was a deliberate wipeout of the entire event.” As our car slows and the trees yield to reveal the sprawling mansion where I spent many hours of my childhood, a shiver races down my spine, and I spot my father’s car in the lot.
“Something tells me we’re about to find out,” I say, tilting my chin in the direction of the vehicle with a mix of dread and defiance.
Jared runs a hand over his brow, shaking his head. “What kind of shit storm has this family gotten into now?”
“Now you appreciate my reaction,” I retort, a note of smug satisfaction creeping into my voice.
Before our banter has a chance to settle my nerves, the car door is abruptly yanked open from the outside. My mother’s fear causes her lips to tremble. But before she can lay into me for scaring her senseless, Jared tries to alleviate the moment with a burst of humor. “Violence is never the answer as I’ve been educating your daughter.” Jared winks at me, because he’s been doing anything but that.
“Oh, I don’t know about that, Jared.” Without a word to me, my mother pulls me into her arms. I seek comfort in her indomitable spirit—the kind that could command a hurricane-like force with a mere look. She steps back before shaking me gently. “Why wasn’t I your first call? Why did you call your father?”
“Mama,” I try to interject, reaching out as if to calm her, but she is already too far gone.
Then her voice rises in a bellow that sends chills down my spine. “Before any of that, tell me why I’m being told to play nice when all I want to do is find that bastard, Conian, and throw my own punch in his face—not discuss him in my conference room!”
At that, both Jared and I blurt out, “What?” in unison, our voices echoing in the suddenly charged air.
“Don’t tell me you weren’t aware,” my mother snaps, eyes narrowing. “Your father said we were all meeting here to discuss Declan Conian.” She spits his name like a curse. “Keene said that’s why he wanted to meet here after you were released.”
Jared’s eyebrows went shooting straight up to his hairline. “All I was informed was to bring Kalie here. Neither of us was aware that was Keene’s intent.”
I knew it was true and said so.
“Keene claims he said you requested this.” My mother’s confusion is evident. “In fact, he brought Caleb and Jon with him.”
I feel the blood drain from my face. This is going from bad to worse. I won’t have the opportunity to speak my truth. Jared and I exchange a glance as we hurry toward the entrance. My pulse races. Since this morning, I feel like my life is a movie on fast forward just before it skips to the end, and you miss the crucial parts.
