The labels were handwritten. Chloe grabbed a stack and began flipping through them on a hunt for jotted notes. She found Rex's signature and noted a similarity between the script and the printed version, but it wasn't enough.
Then she hit the jackpot. One of Rex's speeches, typed, but with notes in the margin. Who else but he would have written on one of his own speeches?
The files were Rex's. They had to be. But why would he give anyone this information? Knox was probably the last person she should ask, but he was also her only option. Fortunately, she didn't have to talk to him to find out what she needed to know. She weighed her alternatives for a moment, then picked up her cell and typed a short message in the text box. Where did you get the files you left for me in your office?
She didn't expect a rapid reply, considering Knox was off somewhere being fabulous, but she got one. Quickly. My mom. She thought I might learn something useful.
"You think?" she murmured. Are they Rex's files?
I assume so. She said he kept them in the basement, so she figured he wouldn't miss them.
Chloe sat back in Knox's chair. She had Rex's personal files, and they weren't even that old-in fact, Pactron could logically be quantified as a current event. Why had he moved something so recent?
Her phone dinged. Is something wrong ?
Wrong? Boy, was that ever open to interpretation. Nope. Just wanted to make sure I had my bearings. Thanks.
I'm tied up here through the weekend. I'm leaving Monday morning. Will I see you then for lunch?
Did it matter? She sighed.
She tapped her reply. Not sure.
It was the easiest way to deal with Knox.
Rex presented another issue altogether.
Knowing for certain the files were his-and even better, that they had been relegated to the basement-gave her new purpose. It was generally a no-brainer that anything put in writing might be found, but private files-not from the office but from home-were another story. Rex would have had reasonable expectation these were for his eyes only … unless, of course, the feds raided his property, but that wasn't a typical concern for most folks. Granted, Rex wasn't most folks, but he had an ego you couldn't fit a house around. If he was doing anything wrong, he probably didn't think he'd be caught.
And he sure as hell hadn't counted on her.
Chloe spent the next several hours going through every folder, page by page. Only a few facts stood out-most predominantly, the thank-you note signed HL.
And then there was the affair with Eleanor Byrd. It didn't have to mean more than sex, but the fact she was such a big player in Pactron's site approval gave Chloe pause. Either way, Rex had really stepped in it this time-there was nothing for connecting old dots like a very public scandal. He'd been sloppy, and if Chloe was on to anything, it was just a matter of time before someone else found it. Whatever it was.
Eleanor's firm wasn't the only one that gave approval to Pactron-two others had, as well. Acting on a hunch, Chloe pulled the reports from the other two companies and looked for the sign offs. Ronald Harris and Charles Martin. She didn't turn up anything unusual for either name but made notes of them anyway.
She was just about to put the Pactron file back in Knox's desk when she saw a piece of paper lying loose in the bottom of the drawer. It was handwritten and contained a series of numbers and letters.
Initials.
Included among them, EB, RH, and CM : Eleanor Byrd, Ronald Harris, and Charles Martin. Anything else would be far too much of a coincidence. Next to each one was a set of numbers. One-100k -suggested a hell of a lot of money. The next was a nine-digit number, and it was followed by another series of numbers. The nine-digit number was a routing number-it had to be. She typed it into her browser and pulled up the name of a bank. Interesting.
But now what? She couldn't exactly go trolling through his bank account records … or could she? Almost everything seemed to be online these days, but Chloe's parents had been holdouts to that particular swath of technology, claiming they didn't trust computers with their banking information. Rex was from the same generation … perhaps he felt the same way? She hadn't seen anything dedicated to a bank among his papers, but it was just as Knox had said-finding something was a lot easier when you knew what you were looking for.
And soon she found it. Print bank statements. The bank account wasn't in Rex's name but in that of a charity. And right around the time the Pactron studies were returned, there were money transfers from the charity's accounts to account numbers matching those labeled EB, RH, and CM … to the tune of one hundred thousand dollars each.
And a thank-you note from HL.
Had Rex paid for favorable studies? And if so, why? He hadn't supported Pactron … at least not publicly. Very few people who weren't behind the proposal had-it certainly wasn't the popular thing to do, and Rex Hamilton had a real thing for being popular. He was also sloppy, unless he was keeping proof for a reason. The basement didn't seem the most secure place for that, but there again, who would look for secrets in a bunch of old boxes in a basement? He had no way of knowing those files would ever see the light of day, much less the fingertips of a reporter for the Washington Tribune.
Hidden money transfers to key environmental analysts. A controversial project with inexplicable approval. And a thank-you note from the man at the helm.
Chloe had a strong idea of what was going on, but she wasn't in a position to verify it.
But she knew someone who was.
Chapter Eighteen
After the initial flush of adrenaline wore off, Chloe felt like a train wreck. It had been one thing to go after a big story but was another to find it. Because it was no longer just a nameless, faceless story but one with real people attached. She didn't care so much for Rex's feelings, but she genuinely liked Katherine. And Knox … how could she do this to Knox? He'd married her to launch his career. He wanted to restore honor to the family name. If this story was what she thought it was, what would that do to him? Voters might look past his father's extramarital affairs, but who would look the other way on corruption? The Hamilton name would be synonymous with filthy politics. Some people would see past that-they'd know Knox was not his father-but that shadow was already deep and dark enough as it was. And the bigger the scandal, the longer the public tended to remember it.
When her phone rang, she nearly jumped out of her skin. Hand shaking, she checked the call. Not her contact but her editor. Beth hardly ever called her … she had a thing about putting everything in writing so she'd have a record of it. This didn't bode well. Chloe answered the phone.
"I've got bad news."
"No hello?" Chloe asked.
"Not this time. There's a meeting Monday. They're making cuts. I'm going to pull for you, kid, but I can't make promises."
"I'm going to lose my job?" Suddenly the home-and-garden gig looked good. Better than unemployment.
"Like I said, I'm pulling for you. But they already cut loose a couple of power players. Granted, they cost more than you do to keep on staff, but they were still big cuts. Threw us all for a loop."
Chloe glanced at her laptop. "What if I told you I had a big story?"
"You can say it all you want, but I need to see it by Monday noon if you want it to count."
"That bad?"
"Plan on it. Then maybe we'll all be pleasantly surprised."
"Thanks for the warning." Chloe ended the call.
Time was short. Could the stakes get any higher? It was down to her or Knox, and he'd made one thing clear.
It was every man for himself.
…
By Sunday night, Chloe had gone from a wreck to a disaster. She hadn't talked to Knox. She hadn't left the house. And every new email, phone call, or text message notification sent her heart clamoring into her throat. She had about fifteen hours to get a story in-a story she had no idea if she could actually write. She contacted the Chesapeake Bay Foundation, which had fought vehemently against the power plant. The person with whom she spoke was baffled as to how the project had been approved and offered plenty of reasons it shouldn't have been, not the least of which was the pollution to the extensive estuary system. But that wasn't enough. She still needed to hear back from her contact, who was a long-time detective with the local PD. She'd given him the leads. She needed only for him to tie it all together, independent of what she'd found in Rex's files-something he assured would be no problem. She trusted her contact-he'd come through for her time and time again-but the clock was ticking.
Then, with the delivery of one email to her inbox, it stopped.
She opened the message with her heart in her throat. Not because she wondered what was there, but because she knew. Scanning the email verified it.
She'd gotten her big story … but at Knox's expense.