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“It all says KSK,” I mumbled as I scanned the pages.
Grady flipped to a new page, which looked different from the bank statement pages.
“We’ve got something different here,” he said, sliding on his reading glasses.
He picked up the paper and read it, his brow furrowing. “What the hell?”
“What is it?” I asked.
“This can’t be right.”
“What does it say?”
He set the paper down, his expression stunned. I looked at it, eager to find out what he’d seen.
“Leonardo Bardot,” I read out loud. “Is that someone”
Grady’s expression silenced me. His eyes were wide with disbelief and he was leaning both palms on the desk for support.
“What is it?” I asked him.
“Leo Bardot was the head of a large drug smuggling ring,” he said, his tone sounding automatic, like he’d repeated this information many times. “He was the worst of the worst. Didn’t care if he was selling tainted drugs and he killed anyone who crossed him. Once slit a guy’s throat over a hundred bucks.”
My excitement over the story faded as I took in his words. This wasn’t what I was expecting. No story was worth pissing off a crime boss and possibly finding myself in his line of fire.
“My dad spent years chasing Bardot,” Grady continued. “He was always a step ahead, though. But then, eleven years ago, Bardot was driving a car one of our officers initiated a traffic stop on. The car was loaded with drugs.”
His tone was far off now, his emotions tucked away safely somewhere else. A sense of dread crept through me as I realized where this was going.
“It was Megan,” he said flatly. “My girlfriend. When she tried to arrest him, he opened fire and shot her. She called for backup and my dad was the closest to the scene. By the time he got to her, she’d bled out. He caught up to Bardot and they exchanged gunfire. Both of them were hit. Bardot got away, but he’d lost so much blood we were sure that he’d died. And my dad was paralyzed from the waist down.”
I put a palm on his back, searching for the right words to say. Grady looked like he’d been physically struck. All I could do in the moment was be here for whatever he needed.
“I’ve been chasing Bardot’s ghost for eleven years,” he said softly. “I couldn’t stop until I had proof he was dead.”
“You should sit down,” I said. “I’ll get you some water.”
He scrubbed a hand down his face. “No, I’m okay. I’m just…”
“Stunned,” I supplied.
“Yeah, that.”
“What should we do?” I asked, my story forgotten.
He took in a deep breath and let it out. “I have to talk to Coulter. And my dad. And the state police.” He met my gaze. “I’m sorry, but”
“You need me to leave.”
He nodded and put a hand on my waist. “It’s not that I don’t want you here.”
I nodded. “I understand.”
When he wrapped his arms around my waist, I wound my arms around his neck. He held me tightly, his entire body rigid with tension.
“I’m here if you need me,” I said. “Anytime, day or night.”
“Thanks.” He kissed my temple. “I’ll call you later.”
“I’ll be at the office searching the archives.”
When the time came for me to write my story, I needed to be prepared. I was going to read up on Leonard Bardot while I waited for the investigation to unfold.
“Grady,” I said softly. “We know who’s on one end of this, but who’s on the other end? The city end? Who’s making those transfers to Leo Bardot?”
“That’s what I have to figure out.” He leaned back, cupping my face in his hands. “Listen to me, okay? Not a word of this to anyone. Not Bess, not anyone. Bardot is dangerous. Promise me you’ll stay at the Chronicle and not go out digging for any more information.”
“I promise.”
He leaned in to kiss my forehead. “Thanks. I need to know you’re safe.”
I gave him an encouraging smile. “Do what you need to do. I’m good.”
He walked me to the door of his office and then through the City Hall lobby, giving me another quick kiss at the door.
“Talk later,” he said softly.
“Okay. Be careful.”
“Always.”
He watched me walk across the street and back into the Chronicle building, giving me a little wave as I stepped into the newsroom.
“Hey,” the new advertising representative, Shelly, said to me.
“Hi, how’s it going?”
She launched into details about which clients she’d already met and which ones she was hoping to meet with today. I put on my game face and did my best to listen, even though my mind was swimming with the revelation about the case.
Suddenly this story was more than just a story. I pictured Grady’s kind, silver-haired father and Megan, whose life had been snuffed out in an instant.
They deserved justice. And playing even a small part in that would be the greatest accomplishment of my life. I wished my uncle could be here to guide me, but I had to find my own way and hope my choices would be the right ones.
