This one, however, would be a home run for her.
Mallory had blackmailed her father with Miranda before, telling him that if he didn’t give Logan the position he was owed at the distillery, she would go to Miranda and tell her everything that happened when she was fourteen years old and Randy Kelly sexually harassed her in the basement of Patrick’s underground casino.
With Miranda’s father in politics and a place of power even Patrick couldn’t touch, he would do anything to keep Miranda out of his business.
But that time was over now.
Patrick’s face went sheet white at the sight of her, and he looked around the room like a cornered animal, trying to find a gap in our legs to escape.
“Hi there, Patrick,” Miranda cooed, holding up the digital recorder in her hands. She had short brown hair and glasses too big for her face, the frames of which lifted a bit as she grinned at Patrick.
A burly man holding the large video camera that had blinded Patrick through the window came in behind her, and she pointed at him over her shoulder.
“Have you met my friend, Shadow? He works in Nashville for Channel 2 News. As you know, we don’t have a video crew for our little newspaper here in town, but when Sydney came to me with this juicy story? Well, I just had to be prepared. And we’ve been listening outside this entire time, my dear.”
Patrick just shook his head, over and over, his eyes scanning the room in disbelief.
“Oh yeah, buddy,” Miranda said. “You’re going down.”
For a moment, Patrick just stood there, stricken, with everyone’s eyes on him. Then, he laughed, though the worry slipped through every crack in his façade. “This is absurd. I didn’t agree to you recording me,” he pointed out. “You can’t air this, let alone use it in a court of law.”
“You would think that, wouldn’t you?” Miranda asked. “But, you see, Tennessee is a one-party consent state, and everyone in this room consented to me recording them other than you. Therefore, this video and audio is protected, and yes, it can be used in a court of law.”
Patrick looked to Mary, and Miranda nodded.
“Yes, even your wife — which solidifies this more than anything.”
Patrick eyed Miranda, and then the deepest, most primal growl ripped from his throat. He was like a cornered animal, and in a flash, he crossed the room, ripping open the top drawer of his desk and whipping out a pistol.
His eyes were wild and murderous as he raised it. Sydney gasped, and Mary reached for Mallory, holding her close as if to protect her and the baby. But Patrick didn’t have time to pull the trigger before Logan and Noah pounced on him, sending him flying to the floor and the gun spiraling away from him. I grabbed it, emptied the chamber, and held both the bullets and the gun in my hands as Patrick writhed in my brothers’ grips.
“Oh, please say you got that, too,” Miranda said, giddy as she turned to Shadow. “That will look just perfect on the evening news. Oh, by the way, Patrick,” she said to him next. “The cops are already on their way. And not your shady Stratford cops either — who, by the way, we’ve been investigating undercover for years now. We already have a case building against Randy Kelly, and this is just the icing on the cake.” She smiled victoriously. “You’re all going to pay for what you’ve done.”
Noah and Logan looked at each other, at Mikey, at me, and in that moment, the weight we’d carried on our chests for a decade was lifted, and I swore I felt our father in that room with us.
Noah smiled, still holding Patrick firmly, and Logan looked up at me with tears in his eyes.
“We did it,” he said, shaking his head. “We did it, brothers.”
Mikey made his way over to me then, and I wrapped him in a bear hug as chaos ensued.
First it was the sound of sirens, and then Patrick being hauled away while more cameras and reporters showed up at the Scooter residence. It would have been comical, watching him struggle against the officers, throwing a fit in their grips and saying, “Do you know who I am?” over and over again, had I not been in shock. He even tried to throw a punch at one of them when they finally shoved his head into the squad car, the rest of him following suit, and then they slammed the door shut.
My brothers and I were clinging to each other in the front yard when our mother showed up, wide-eyed and riddled with worry, until we told her everything.
It was over.
It was all over.
And finally, we had justice for Dad.
A quiet, calm kind of numbness settled over me as we talked to police officers and reporters and filed statements. It wasn’t the relief I thought we’d find, because as much as we’d finally found answers, we still didn’t have our father.