Chapter 51 – We

“What did you find out?”

Chloe took a deep breath. “Quite a bit. But a lot of it is fragments that I can’t piece together. What do you have?”

“Ladies first.”

Chloe snorted. “Not sure I’m much of a lady, but okay.”

Then she began to recount the results of her investigation, chronologically and step by step. About Ben Ziegler, Randy Miles, Valeria Cruz, and what went on at their parties, Elena Rodriguez, Trevor Knight, Madeline Stokes, Lucia DeVries, and Ethan Cooper. 

Morgan took notes on everything Chloe said on a piece of paper she had pulled from the coffee table.

Then she got to Valeria Cruz’s second party. Chloe described what she had heard while serving George and Roger.

“Thompson,” Chloe said. “George said, ‘They work with Thompson for logistics.’ And then the first name came up. John.”

Morgan stopped writing and looked up.

“John Thompson. My stepfather’s name is John Thompson,” said Chloe. “George described him as someone who ‘plays the puritanical conservative for the public, but behind closed doors happily reaps the rewards’ or something along those lines. And that…” She swallowed. “That sounds exactly like him.”

“Fuck,” Morgan said quietly.

“Thompson isn’t a rare name,” Chloe quickly added. “It could be a coincidence. But…”

“But the description fits.”

“Yup.”

Morgan chewed on her pen. “What does your stepfather do for a living?”

“He has a small construction company. Thompson Construction & Development, in Oak Springs.” Chloe rubbed her forehead. “I tried to find out more about his company on the internet, but I don’t even know what to look for. I’m not exactly a financial expert or anything.”

“Financial research isn’t new to me,” Morgan said. “Company holdings, shell companies, cash flows. I know my way around that stuff. I have” – she made a vague hand gesture – “my methods.”

The way she said “methods” left little doubt that not all of them were necessarily in the journalistic ethics handbook.

Chloe didn’t ask. She didn’t care how she got evidence, as long as she got it.

“And then there’s the thing with Ben,” Chloe said. “At one of Valeria Cruz’s parties, not a sex party, just a normal industry party, I saw him receive a thick envelope from a man in an expensive suit. I overheard bits of conversation. ‘Catalog complete’ and ‘Delivery.’ And Ben acts like Valeria’s lapdog. He does everything she says, and they write regularly, even about me.”

Morgan’s eyes narrowed. “Ben Ziegler. Yeah, I’ve had him on my radar for a while, actually. The guy’s really creepy, if you ask me.” She tapped her pen on her notepad. “I have a few ideas about how we might get something out of him. Nothing you’d learn in journalism school, but…” She left the sentence hanging. “I’ll think of something.”

“And you?” Chloe asked. “What have you found in three years that I don’t know about?”

Morgan leaned forward. “I have two things in particular that will interest you. First: Victor Ross.”

“The guy from Anal Adventures.”

“Exactly. There was a conflict between him and Samantha. A big one. I could never find out the details. The people in the industry who knew about it aren’t talking. And believe me, I asked. Most of the time, people in this industry like to gossip, especially about other people. But when it came to this topic, everyone suddenly clammed up.” She raised her eyebrows. “I found that alone a bit suspicious.”

Chloe thought about it. Victor Ross. Ben had introduced him to her at the party. A tall, sleazy guy with an ugly suit.

“And secondly?”

“Daniel Walker. Performer at Dirty Dreams, exclusively signed to Valeria. His name comes up in everything to do with Samantha. He was often on the same sets, at the same parties, always close to her. I heard rumors that he had feelings for her and wanted a relationship, but Samantha rejected him. But the interesting thing is that he’s considered Valeria’s man, one of those who does everything she says.”

“Dirty Dreams has already booked me,” Chloe said slowly. “I was there once for photos and Valeria really wants me for bigger productions. If I keep shooting for her, sooner or later I’m sure I’ll get to meet this Daniel Walker guy.”

“And Victor Ross?”

Chloe hesitated. “I… didn’t really plan on doing anal scenes. Well, there goes another boundary, I guess.”

Morgan looked at her sympathetically. “Maybe that won’t be necessary. Maybe we can find another way to get to him.”

We?

“We?”

“Sure. There are two of us now.” Morgan leaned back. “You’re on the inside, I’m on the outside. You can get to people I could never get to in a million years. And I can find out things you couldn’t get to on your own, like financial data. We’ll share everything we find.”

The doorbell rang and Morgan jumped up excitedly.

“The food!”

As she walked to the door, Chloe sank back into the worn upholstery and suddenly began to tremble, feeling tears welling up. It was a strange feeling. As if someone had torn down a wall in her heart and suddenly revealed a whole room behind it that she had completely forgotten was there.

Three years. She had done this alone for three years. Planned, trained, researched, prepared. She had come to Valley City, disguised herself, sold herself, let herself be fucked, and carried everything alone. And now she was sitting in the apartment of a woman she had only met two hours ago, who was working on the same puzzle and had willingly shared her pieces with her. She took a few deep breaths.

Don’t start crying now, Chloe!

Morgan came back with a paper bag full of boxes and spread them out on the coffee table between the notebooks, chips, and wine.

“The duck is in this box, you have to try it, it’s really delicious,” she said, handing Chloe chopsticks.

Chloe took them. Her hands were no longer shaking.

~

The coffee table was a battlefield of mostly empty food boxes, crumpled napkins, and the half-empty wine bottle. Chloe was really full. The duck had actually been absurdly good.

“Can I ask you something?” said Morgan, balancing the wine glass on her knees. “I mean, not as a journalist, but as Morgan, okay?”

“Sure.”

“How do you stand it?”

Chloe opened her mouth to give a quick answer, one of those that almost came automatically. Oh, it’s not that bad. You get used to it. But the words didn’t come.

“I don’t know,” she said instead. Quieter than she had intended.

Morgan waited.

“In the beginning, it was clearly separate,” Chloe began. “Chloe Thompson here, Chloe Heart there. Like a costume you put on and take off. But now…” She sighed. “You know, I… I sometimes enjoy things at work that I… that I…”

She broke off.

“Shouldn’t enjoy?” Morgan added cautiously.

“Things I thought I wouldn’t enjoy.” Chloe put the glass down on the table. “And then I wonder if that’s still me, or the role, or if it doesn’t really matter anymore. Because, actually, I think, it doesn’t. I’m Chloe Heart now. And I still have to get used to that, I guess.”

“Aren’t you being a little too negative? I mean… I’m confident that we can solve this case together. And after that-“

Chloe laughed tiredly. “There is no after. Even if I find out who killed Sam tomorrow, the videos won’t disappear. Every person I ever meet, every potential employer, every… friend, every potential partner, everyone will be able to find it. In thirty years, it will still be there. I’m locked in.”

She heard the words aloud for the first time, not just as desperate thoughts alone in her small apartment, but as spoken sentences that hung in the air and could no longer be taken back.

“You’re right. Oh fuck, I hadn’t thought that far ahead,” Morgan said. “And you couldn’t talk to anyone about it.”

“No.”

“The whole time?”

Chloe shook her head. “With my friends back in high school? Forget it. My colleague Elena is nice. Steve too. But Elena only knows me as Chloe Heart. Steve too. Every relationship I have here is based on a lie. I can never…” She searched for the right word. “I can never stop playing. Not for a second.”

Morgan put down her glass. She chewed on her lower lip and looked at Chloe.

“We’ve only known each other for a few hours,” she said. “But what you’re describing sounds really…” She shook her head slowly. “You’re eighteen years old and you’ve been carrying this burden all by yourself. For months. And for three years before that. That’s too much. I can’t even imagine the willpower that takes…”

She paused, ran her fingers through her short dark hair, and Chloe could see she was struggling.

“I think you need a hug,” Morgan said. “And I think I want to give you one. If that’s okay.”

Chloe nodded. That was all she could manage.

Morgan slid over to her and wrapped her arms around her, not tentatively or cautiously, but firmly and warmly, and Chloe leaned into it. She felt a knot in her chest loosen. Her eyes burned and she blinked hard.

Don’t cry. Don’t cry, Chloe.

But it had been so damn long since anyone had just held her. She exhaled. And Inhaled. Then again. And again.

When they finally let go of each other, Chloe discreetly wiped her eyes, and Morgan pretended not to notice.

“So,” Morgan said, clearing her throat. “You’re not alone anymore. Just so we’re clear. That doesn’t just apply to the investigation. If you need someone to talk to, or to sit in silence with, or to destroy a bottle of red wine with.” She pointed to the nearly empty bottle. “Or two. I’m here. Okay?”

Chloe looked at her. Morgan’s eyes were honest and warm and a little moist, and her crooked smile felt like the most genuine thing Chloe had encountered in months.

“Okay,” Chloe said quietly. “Thank you.”

It was late. Warm night air drifted in through Morgan’s half-open window, along with the muffled bass from some bar a few blocks away.

Morgan hid a yawn behind her hand. “You can crash here if you want. The sofa is actually pretty comfortable.”

Chloe shook her head. “Thanks, that’s really sweet of you, but I have to go home.”

I need to sort this all out. Alone.

“Sure.” Morgan nodded without taking offense. She got up and rummaged through her desk for a pen and a piece of paper. “Here. My number and my email. My private email address, not the one at the Times.”

Chloe took the note, but Morgan still held on to it. “We’ll share everything we find with each other as soon as possible. No more going it alone necessary, okay?”

“Okay.” Chloe nodded, and Morgan let go of the note and walked her to the door.

“Take care,” Morgan said. “Will you let me know when you get home safely so I don’t have to worry?”

“I will,” Chloe assured her.

~

The apartment was dark and quiet when she closed the door behind her. Chloe didn’t turn on the light, since there was enough light coming in from outside and she preferred the darkness right now. She dropped her purse, kicked off her shoes, sat down at her laptop, and opened it.

She clicked on her investigation document.

Everything was there. All the fragments, theories, dead ends, names, and questions. Ben Ziegler. Valeria Cruz. Elena Rodriguez. Trevor Knight. Daz Carter. John Thompson. The parties. The envelopes. The snippets of conversation. All the shards and pieces she had collected.

Chloe opened her email program, typed in Morgan’s address, wrote that she had arrived home safely, and attached the document.

When I send this, she’ll be able to read everything. Everything I know. Everything I suspect. Everything I’ve experienced. Every detail.

She pressed send.

The progress bar crawled across the screen. Message sent.

Chloe closed her laptop and just sat there for a moment, in the dark, listening to the muffled sounds of Valley City.

Then she took the photo out of her purse and turned on the light on her small nightstand. Two girls next to an apple tree, sunlight on their faces. She ran her thumb softly over Samantha’s face.

I’m not alone anymore, Sam.

She placed the photo next to her other photo of Samantha on the nightstand, got up, and went to the bathroom to remove her makeup.