The Wright Way

Chapter 34 - The Wright Way

The van rolls slowly into the yard, sending the chickens scurrying away. It parks against the shabby fence, looking big and awkward and out of place. It must have been washed lately, for all its surfaces gleam in the sun, and the sticker on the side with the TV channel number and the 'We Know – You Know' logo look sharp and clear. Although it has nothing in common with fire trucks, save perhaps for carrying equipment on its roof, it brings memories of my work, perhaps because such production trucks often showed up where we worked, and later we could see ourselves in the backdrop of some news report.

Two doors slam at once as the driver steps out at the same time as a woman reporter appears from the other side. She stretches, looks around at the field behind the fence, at the house and, finally, at me, standing on the porch. She flashes a ready smile and waves, and starts towards me, her heels occasionally slipping on the dry dirt. Just like the van, she looks very much out of place in this rustic environment with her white blazer and slim-fitting, knee-length dark skirt that she keeps adjusting as she walks. She looks like a lawyer or perhaps a news anchor that belongs in a comfortable, air-conditioned studio. Perhaps she would have preferred that herself, but for now, she's chasing stories instead of comfortably presenting them.

She walks up the stairs, her smile growing more confident as the surface under her feet gets firmer. She stops in front of me, knocks one shoe on another to get rid of a pebble that got stuck to her sole, and looks up, offering me a hand.

"Amelia Harper," she says. "You must be Ethan Wright?"

I accept the surprisingly strong handshake. I saw her quite a few times on the news, a few of her reports involving her criticism of the fire department's performance, so my first gut reaction to her is negative. Yet it was I who called her and, frankly, from up close she looks not too bad. She's young and lively, and her brown hair rearranged by the breeze looks less like a wig than it did on TV. She seems okay. As Lagana said, they only want a good story.

"Come in," I say. "We better talk inside."

I lead her along the corridor, past the living room that stands empty, Joshua's father having had left to the barn, and then to the kitchen.

Joshua rises from his chair as we walk in and looks at me expectantly. He must have used the time to clean the place, and the open window took care of the cooking smells. Yet the tablecloth with a round burned mark from the frying pan is still there and I can see Amelia's eyes gravitating to it immediately.

"A cooking accident," I tell her. "This is Joshua Hill. He's...a friend."

"Hello there." She offers her hand and Joshua steps up hastily to accept the handshake. She holds on to his fingers, peering at his face. "I think I spoke to you once when we were making a piece about the city's nightlife. You performed in the 'Golden Leaf', didn't you?"

"Yeah," he says, looking pleasantly surprised. "You remember!"

"Of course, I do. You were quite memorable."

She flashes a professional smile at him and then takes a step aside to let the cameraman into the kitchen. Another round of handshakes and greetings ensue, and then a pause hangs, the four of us looking around at each other.

"So," says Amalia. "Let's talk?"

"The light is better here." The cameraman takes a chair, puts it against the wall and nods at it invitingly. I come over and sit down. Amalia drags another chair to sit next to me. She tries to put one foot on another, perhaps being used to wearing pants, for her current narrow skirt allows little freedom. She settles for crossing her ankles and tilting her legs to one side before smiling at me encouragingly.

"Would you like to first tell me all in general, and then we'll get it on camera? I'd like to hear more before we start. You didn't explain much on the phone. Why are they chasing you? If you do feel your life is in danger, why call us and not the police?"

"Some high-standing officials might want to shush it down," I say, and she nods, clearly knowing who I'm talking about. "You have the power to put it out in the open and draw enough attention to it. Also, the media has been pretty obsessed with the Wrights lately."

She gives a wry smile. "Well, they've been giving so much material for speculations. All the lawsuits made them a hot topic. I made a couple of pieces about them in the past but nothing with the insiders. So do tell."

I nod, and then my mind hits a brick wall as I absolutely don't know how to begin.

"Well, I want to... I'm a nephew of Zachary Wright, as I told you." Another brick wall gets hit and I look past Amalia's shoulder at Joshua who's standing behind her, watching me, his hands clasped tightly in front of him. He nods at me, but it doesn't help much.

"I want to talk about the Wrights," I say.

"Yes," Amalia says patiently. "Please do. "

"They've been killing people," I blurt out, and then another pause hangs as everybody stare at me.

"Okay," Amalia says slowly, turning to the cameraman. "Let's skip the preliminaries. Get it rolling, I want it all recorded."