If Willow were here, she could talk Barry off the ledge and into doing anything she asked because of her sweet, caring nature that lulls people into a sense of security and makes them believe every word she says.
I don’t possess that skill.
I’ve never been particularly good at comforting people. My style is more bull-in-a-china-shop than soft and gentle reassurance. Getting sources to talk can be a crapshoot on any story, but on one this big, I knew it would be an uphill battle. I just never expected it to be Everest…
It’s time to dig deep and find some way to get through to him. “I know you’re scared?—”
“Damn right, I’m scared!” He practically screams into the phone, loud enough that I have to pull it away from my ear. “You don’t know what these people are capable of.”
I flinch, my stomach churning with the memories. “Unfortunately, I do. All too well.”
“Then you know why I can’t say anything. You know why I have to keep my mouth shut.”
He doesn’t leave any room for argument, but I’ve never been one to back down from a challenge. It’s gotten me this far in life, and while many people would see me in this small town in the Blue Ridge Mountains that doesn’t even have a newspaper anymore as nothing to brag about for someone who prides themselves on being an investigative reporter, what McBride Mountain has offered me is something very few others in my role have.
Freedom.
When the paper closed, I had a momentary panic attack thinking my career was dead in the water unless I wanted to leave home and head to Asheville or somewhere else that might have other journalistic opportunities, but what it really did was free me to write about whatever I want without a boss controlling my ideas and words.
Any major newspaper along the East Coast would have shot down this story from the get-go, either too afraid to run it, or confident I could never back up the accusations with any verifiable evidence.
That evidence—or at least, a very big part of it—is on the other end of this line, and I have to reel him in or risk losing him and this story forever.
Maybe playing nice and placating Barry isn’t the right approach. Maybe what he really needs is Raven Fucking Perry pushing him in the right direction.
“You know what ends up happening when people keep their mouths shut, Barry? Bad men get away with very bad things.”
A frustrated sigh that matches my own feelings floats through the line, but he doesn’t say anything. His silence gives me the opening I need to know he’s at least listening.
“It’s not that I don’t understand your reservation, Barry. Believe me, I do. And I sympathize with it, but what you know could make such a huge difference. It could change everything.”
“Which is exactly why I’ve been in hiding for so long. Because I have no intention of ever having my life anywhere near the hands of those people again. I barely got away with it the last time…”
“But you did. And now, everything you suffered could be for a reason. A purpose.”
“I’m sorry, but no, Miss Perry. That is my final decision on this.”
My story is slipping away.
I can physically feel it sliding from my grasp.
He’s the one who would have given credence to what I’ve been writing about, who would confirm all the research I’ve done over the past couple of months, who could validate all the rumors and substantiate innuendos I can’t print without some sort of corroboration.
He is that corroboration.
Letting him get away means giving up this story.
“Please let me come to you to talk in person. Just for a few minutes. If you still want to say no after that, you’ll never hear from me again.”
This time, I hold my breath as the seconds tick by without his response.
Come on. Come on. Come on, Barry.
Do the right thing.
He releases a resigned sigh. “I’ll give you ten minutes, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to tell you anything.”
But it’s a start.
