“In the middle of the concert?” he asked, exasperated. “I’ll be a figurehead at the beginning and end, but they’re the main show. It’s just my event.”
“You’re not going to budge on this, are you?”
“No.”
Liz sighed. “Okay. Just . . . tell Heather, and figure out a way for Hayden not to be seen coming in and out of the building. We don’t need another problem.”
Liz arrived with Brady to the theater later that evening. Brady left Liz in a back room, where the majority of the noise was muffled.
“I have my opening speech and then Heather will bring Hayden backstage to discuss the supposed evidence.”
Supposed evidence. She knew how much Brady hated this, and he was trying to make light of the situation. Hayden had better have something concrete or she was never going to live this down. Liz had a sinking suspicion that he did, though. He wouldn’t have contacted her out of the blue for nothing. Or at least she hoped not.
The wait felt like an eternity, but soon enough she heard the band start their first song. She hadn’t realized that she’d been wringing her hands in anticipation. With a deep breath, she tried to calm her nerves and release the tension.
Brady returned to her side. After planting a kiss on her forehead, he leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms. He seemed as though he wanted to be ready in case Hayden tried anything, which she thought was unlikely even if Brady wasn’t in the room.
Heather walked in a second later with Hayden on her heels. She firmly closed the door behind them. Liz caught Hayden’s eye and saw him assess the situation with a reporter’s eye. He shifted from Liz to Brady to Heather and back in a millisecond and his smile dropped.
“Quite a party to do business,” Hayden said.
Brady nodded at Heather, who shrugged and left. She would hear the whole thing later. If it made him more comfortable with one less body in the room, then by all means.
Hayden’s eyes were trained on Liz. “Is he staying?”
“Yes.”
“I see.”
“Is there a problem with that?” Brady asked.
“Brady,” she murmured softly. “Just leave it.”
Hayden just shrugged. “No problem. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.”
“What kind of evidence do you have on Calleigh?” Brady asked without further ado.
Liz rolled her eyes to the ceiling with a sigh. “Thank you for agreeing to meet with me today. I don’t know what you have, but I’m sure it wasn’t an easy decision to decide to let us know.”
“It was quite simple,” Hayden said, tossing a manila envelope onto the table. “Calleigh ruined everything, and you don’t deserve the way she’s been treating you. It’s personal, not professional. She’s getting sloppy, because she’s treating it like it’s a vendetta rather than an actual reason to attack y’all.”
“Well, still . . . thank you.” She could feel her cheeks burning under his gaze. She held no lingering feelings for Hayden, but it was clear that he still cared for her. And he was doing this because of that.
“Don’t thank me yet. We have to stop her first.”
“What exactly are we stopping her from doing?” Brady asked, pushing off of the wall and leaning over the desk.
“The specifics I don’t have. I only know what I heard and have gathered from this,” he said, pointing at that paperwork. “I overheard Calleigh on the phone a couple times in the past few weeks talking about an ad spot, and Brady’s name came up. It was never anything solid, and over the past couple weeks I debated messaging you again to let you know that she was planning something. But you said I needed evidence, and I got you some.”
He slid the manila envelope across the table to Liz and Brady. She opened it and saw that there was a small stack of Calleigh’s emails. Liz’s eyes widened. “How did you get these?”
“Calleigh had a computer glitch one day and came into my office freaking out. She asked me to look at it. When I didn’t immediately fix the issue she got irritated and said she was going to see if anyone from IT was back from lunch. I tinkered with the computer a few minutes and got it running again. When everything came back up that email was on the screen. I’d heard Calleigh mention the name Ted before, and I saw that it matched the email address. So, I just printed the whole conversation and hoped that was enough.” Hayden sighed. “I’ve read it all. It doesn’t detail exactly what the ad spot is for, but they’re filming something negative. And she has a meeting with this Ted person tomorrow in Greensboro.”
“Hmmm . . . I have an idea.” Both guys looked at her skeptically. “You’re not going to like it.”
Liz stood in front of a large gray building, staring up at the small gold plaque that announced it was a production studio. Strange place for a meeting, but a perfect place to film an ad spot. She hoped that she was making the right decision.
Her hair was slicked back into a ponytail and she was wearing dark jeans and a blazer. Her voice recorder was tucked into her front pocket—conveniently hidden from sight. She switched it on before walking inside and felt the familiar flutter of butterflies at what she was about to do.
She squared her shoulders and hoped she looked confident and professional. Then she pulled open the heavy door and walked inside. A receptionist was on hand. Her face was buried in her computer, and from what Liz could gather she was playing a computer game rather than working. Perfect.
“Excuse me,” Liz said, drawing the woman’s attention.
“Yes. Sorry. How can I help you?”
Liz took a deep breath. “I’m here to see Ted. I have an appointment with Miss Hollingsworth.”
The woman checked her computer and seemed to confirm that both Ted and Calleigh were supposed to be here today. “Oh, you’re right on time. Ted is already in the studio.” The woman stood, waved her card across the door, and opened it for her. “All the way to the back.”
Liz thanked her and then quickly passed through the door before the woman could reconsider. She made her way down the hallway. The door was closed, but there was a window that Liz could peek through. There was a guy sitting in a chair who she assumed was Ted, a few cameramen, and a handful of women off to the side. One woman was standing in front of the camera. No one looked familiar. No Calleigh.
As quickly as she could, she pulled out her phone and snapped a few pictures of the room, zooming in on the faces of the people standing around, and then the sign next to the room. It read CT AD SPOT and underneath it LEAD: CALLEIGH HOLLINGSWORTH. CT . . . hmm. Probably Charlotte Times. Did the paper know what she was doing or had Calleigh just used their name?