by Lauren Carr
“Oh,” Mac chuckled. “Am I picking up a hint of jealousy?”
“Why would I be jealous of that moron?”
“Because he’s sniffing around your wife.”
“She is not my wife.”
“She is until you get her to sign those papers,” Mac said. “The sooner you get her to sign them, the sooner we can get back to Deep Creek Lake.”
David chuckled.
Confused, Mac asked, “What?”
“You want to leave? I fully expected you to get wrapped up in Audra Walker’s murder, and I figured that I would be the one dragging you back to Deep Creek,” David said. “You knew Walker. You said she was your friend.”
“Considering that the body was hidden in Yvonne’s office, I’m sure she’ll keep up on the case,” Mac said.
“Are you ready to go, my love?” Making an entrance, Yvonne swung open the door and breezed in.
“You mean we’re still on for lunch?” David rose from his seat at the conference table. “I thought for sure that you’d take down Pam Wiehl for this story.”
“I tried, but I lost,” Yvonne said. “Pam Wiehl is married to the executive producer and is the headliner for Crime Watch—that trumps my legs hands down.”
“How long has she been married to Jim Wiehl?” Mac asked.
“Like, forever.” Yvonne added with a grin. “They were high school sweethearts from a small town in Montana and ran off to come to New York the summer after they graduated from high school. He went to film school, and she went to journalism school while working her way up from receptionist here at ZNC.” She grasped David’s arm with both hands. “I know of a lovely place for us to have lunch.”
Mac saw a flicker of concern cross David’s face. “Don’t take too long with all of your catching up. We need to get back to Spencer tomorrow. There’s a lot left to do for the wedding this weekend.”
Without acknowledging his statement, Yvonne led David toward the door, only to have Mac stop her with a question. “Do you have any idea of how Audra ended up back here at the studio?”
With her hand on the door, Yvonne stopped to turn back to him. “Huh?”
“You interviewed Audra Walker the night she disappeared,” Mac reminded her.
“About her book The Night Jolene Died,” Yvonne said. “Then she went back to her hotel—the Four Seasons. The next morning, she was gone. Hotel security cameras recorded her arrival. Her key cards confirmed that she’d gone to her room. Hotel security also showed her leaving again shortly after midnight and taking a cab—”
“That brought her back here to midtown Manhattan,” Mac said. “Why did she come back after midnight?”
“According to the police,” Yvonne said, “her cell phone records showed that she received a text from someone using my name, claiming that I had some information about the case she’d told me about, and saying that we needed to meet in private. Whoever it was said it would be too dangerous for me to be seen talking to her about it. It ended up being a burner phone.”
“So she was lured away from her hotel,” David said.
“That’s what it looked like to me,” Yvonne said. “For a while there, the lead detective thought I had sent her that text. It was only because I had an alibi that they stopped questioning me.”
“If she was lured back here by a text supposedly sent from you, why would the police have thought she just took off because she was distraught over her husband’s death?” Mac asked.
“Some people think she set it up to look that way,” Yvonne said. “Audra was a public personality. Her disappearance jacked up her book sales—it made her a legend. If she had just retired, she would have faded off into the landscape. As it is, she went out with a bang.”
“That’s for sure,” David said.
“The police didn’t close the case and decide it had been a voluntary disappearance until last year, when one of Audra’s friends received a postcard from Australia saying that Audra had met a man and ran off to start a new life,” Yvonne said.
“Obviously, that postcard was a fake,” Mac said. “Audra Walker’s murder was planned—premeditated. Who were Lieutenant Hopkins’ suspects before he closed the case?”
“He inherited the case from Sergeant Caleb Roberts, who retired last year,” Yvonne said. “Hopkins worked under him. Roberts retired. Then Hopkins made lieutenant.” She chuckled. “I’m sure you noticed his kowtowing to the Wiehls.”
“That I did,” Mac said.
“The camera loves Hopkins, and Hopkins loves the camera,” she said. “Pam asked him to come on the show as an expert on a story she was working on. He did okay, and now he’s on ZNC’s list of people to call in when we need to interview a law-enforcement expert. Hopkins never passes up a chance to be on camera.”
“Isn’t that a conflict of interest?” Mac asked. “Someone with access to this building and these floors lured Audra Walker here to kill her and seal her in that wall.”
“They would have had to get through security,” David said. “There are metal detectors down in the lobby. Mac and I both had to show our police badges and gun permits and log in our weapons with the building security.”
“Practically every journalist I know is packing,” Yvonne said, “including me. Believe it or not, even I’ve received threats from suspects I’ve profiled on our show. After that magazine was attacked in Paris, this building doubled its security. Jim always has a gun on him. Pam has had a few stalkers during the course of her career, and”—she lowered her voice—“I heard a rumor, unsubstantiated, that their daughter was kidnapped in Europe the year before I came to ZNC. According to my source, that’s why they do Crime Watch—so that they don’t have to travel as much and can stay here in New York with their children.”
“Wouldn’t Pam Wiehl’s daughter being kidnapped make big news?” Mac said.
“My source says they never reported it and used a mercenary or something like that to get her back,” Yvonne said. “I have no idea how true that story is. I do know that she still lives with her parents. In the back of my mind, I sense a big story there.”
“If you sense a story,” David asked, “why aren’t you digging into it?”
“Because the Wiehls could kill my career with one phone call,” Yvonne said. “As far as security here, you can only keep your weapon on you if you have a permit and have registered your gun with the building security.”
“But security was doubled after Audra Walker disappeared,” Mac noted.
“It was still heavy back when she went missing,” Yvonne said.
“Did the Wiehls have access to the floors that were under renovation?” Mac asked her.
“Yes, but they had no motive to kill Audra,” Yvonne said with a laugh. “I interviewed Audra that night, which was an honor because Audra Walker was big in investigative journalism circles. She and the Wiehls seemed very cordial to one another. Why would they kill her?”
Unable to come up with an answer, Mac looked over at Gnarly, who was resting his head on the tabletop. The dog looked imploringly at Mac. Narrowing his eyes, Mac mentally told Gnarly, Don’t tell me you have to go out now.
Lifting his head, Gnarly uttered a whine.
“What book would Audra have thought you had information about?” David asked Yvonne.
Yvonne shrugged her shoulders while lifting her arms in an exaggerated I-don’t-know gesture. “The Night Jolene Died was already published. She was on the book tour selling it. I asked her at the end of my interview what she would be working on next. She said she was going back to work on a book about Romeo and Juliet.”
“Romeo and Juliet?” Mac asked.
“The Texan version,” Yvonne said. “You are aware that Audra was from Texas?”
“I didn’t know that,” David said.
“Born and raised,” Yvonne said. “Apparently, there was a you
ng couple out in the small town where she was raised who were like a modern-day Romeo and Juliet. Their parents hated each other, and they made a suicide pact and killed themselves by driving his car off a cliff into a rocky canyon, like the final scene in Thelma and Louise. Only this was on a still, starry night, and they drove off the cliff at a lovers’ leap on prom night. The car burst into flames as it sailed over the cliff and lit up the whole sky.”
“How tragic,” David said.
“Audra was working on the story behind the story,” Yvonne said. “She had a real talent for digging far beneath the surface to get to the truth. Her murder is a real loss for our whole field.”
“She was a great lady,” Mac said. “A great talent.”
“Well,” Yvonne said. “I’m sure that with you on the case, we’ll find out who did this awful thing.”
“After I get David back to Deep Creek Lake and get him married,” Mac said.
“Why, of course,” Yvonne said while leading David back to the door.
“David, wait!” After grabbing a pen from the box on the table, Mac rushed over to him, opened his sports coat, and tucked the pen into his inside breast pocket. After closing up the jacket, Mac patted the pocket containing the pen. “No excuses.”
Chapter Five
“I’m surprised,” David said while walking with Yvonne to the elevators. “Four years ago, you would have fought tooth and nail for the Audra Walker story.”
At the elevators, Yvonne pressed the call button to take them down to the lobby. “My contract is up for renewal, and ZNC is offering me my own show following Ryan Ritter’s to keep me from going to another network. Considering how big Ryan’s audience is, my show is almost a guaranteed hit if even half of them don’t bother switching the channel. But none of that is going to happen if I buck the Wiehls.”
“Hey, Harding,” a male voice called from up the hall. A man who David recognized as one of Yvonne’s cohosts on Crime Watch trotted up to them. “Have you heard the news?” Offering his hand to David, he introduced himself as Ian Griffith.
“Of course, it was happening in my office,” Yvonne said. “How could I not have heard about it?”
“Not Audra Walker,” Ian said. “I’m talking about Ruth Rubenstein. She was murdered last night.”
Yvonne’s mouth dropped open. “Seriously?”
“Who’s Ruth Rubenstein?” David asked.
Ignoring David, Ian replied, “The media is already at the scene, and her husband has announced that he’s filing a wrongful death suit against ZNC and you.”
David repeated his question to Yvonne. “Who is Ruth Rubenstein, and why would her husband be suing you?”
Ian scoffed at him. “I take it you’ve been living under a rock.”
“Ruth Rubenstein is an Internet troll,” Yvonne said.
“Who Yvonne outed on the air Friday night,” Ian said. “Since then, the Internet worldwide has gone crazy. Ruth Rubenstein became the most hated woman on the planet.” He smirked in Yvonne’s direction. “Now she’s dead.”
Looking at Yvonne in disbelief, David took a step back from her.
“She drove a young woman to suicide,” Yvonne said. “Melissa O’Meara. Twenty-five years old. Always dreamed of being an author. Her first book, a romance published by a small press, was scheduled to be released next week. Rubenstein and her troll friends panned it on a huge book readers’ site without even reading it. When the author tried to defend herself—”
“That was O’Meara’s first mistake,” Ian said. “Never feed the troll.”
“Rubenstein responded in the most vicious virtual way possible,” Yvonne said. “Then all of the rest of the trolls piled on. These creeps were posting one-star reviews and ugly comments about a book they hadn’t even read. The book’s ratings were at rock bottom before it was even released.”
“Mob mentality is just as strong in the virtual world as in real life,” David said.
“The book got a ton of negative publicity because of the troll attack, not because of its content at all,” Yvonne said. “Melissa ended up taking a bottle of sleeping pills and killing herself. She said in her suicide note that with the death of her dream, she had nothing to live for. It was heartbreaking. None of these people had ever met Melissa. Not one of them had read her book. I was so outraged that I hunted down the troll who started and led the attack on Melissa and outed her on the air.”
“Real name and picture,” Ian said. “The Internet did the rest. Folks on Twitter published her home address, and within an hour Rubenstein was getting death threats.” He shook his head at David. “I can’t believe you didn’t know anything about this.”
“I’ve been busy in the real world,” David said.
“Well now Rubenstein is dead—murdered—and her husband’s planning to sue for ten million dollars.” A cocky grin came to Ian’s lips. “I wonder if the other networks will still be courting you for your own show if you end up costing ZNC millions of dollars.”
“You know what they say, Ian,” Yvonne said. “There’s no such thing as bad publicity.”
“Publicity is one thing,” Ian replied. “Money is another. Look at Jenny Jones. Her pursuit of ratings got one of her guests murdered. Where is she now?”
“Ruth Rubenstein was a bitter old hag collecting disability who did nothing but sit around in her bathrobe and use the Internet to prey on innocent people pursuing their dreams,” Yvonne said. “What grounds does her husband have to sue us?”
“Because you set his wife up to be murdered by a fellow sicko with a warped sense of revenge,” David said.
“If I were you, I’d call legal ASAP.” Ian smoothed his hair with both of his hands. “In the meantime, I’m going to lunch at Finnegan’s. One of my spies told me that Charles Weller is having lunch there with some of his vice presidents, and I hear their network may be looking for another journalist to head up their new show … one who’s not so passionate about getting ratings that they get people killed.” He hurried on his way.
“You actually like working with these people?” David asked while the elevator doors opened.
“Forget about them.”
“Yvonne!”
Before they could step onto the elevator, a middle-aged man whose distinguished appearance was made even more sophisticated by his expensive tailored suit trotted down the hall toward them. Holding the elevator doors, David noticed a young man following a few steps behind him.
“I thought that was you,” the older gentleman said with a broad smile. Clasping both of Yvonne’s hands in his, he greeted her with a kiss on the cheek. “How are you? I heard a dead body was found in your office. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, Preston,” she replied. “Thank you for asking.” She introduced David to Preston Blakeley, the CEO of ZNC, whose office suite was on the fortieth floor of the building. Wrapping an arm around David’s waist, she ushered him forward. “This is my very good friend from back home, David O’Callaghan.”
Sensing that this would take a while, David allowed the elevator to continue on its way.
Preston paused to look David up and down before offering his hand to him to shake. “Pam Wiehl told me that it was Mac Faraday, Robin Spencer’s son, and a friend of his who found the dead body in Yvonne’s wall. I assume that’s you.”
“We grew up together in Spencer,” she said.
“Ah,” Preston chuckled. “High school sweethearts.”
It was Yvonne’s turn to grin. “Something like that.” Her giggle took on a naughty tone that made David’s cheeks warm.
“Well, Yvonne,” Preston said. “I can see that you and your friend were on your way out—”
“I do have a flight to catch,” David said, lying to hurry the executive along.
“If you need another place to work while the police do their thing in your office, Yvonne, please let me
know,” Preston insisted. “We’ll make room for you on the fortieth floor.” He turned to his assistant. “We have a vacant office upstairs, don’t we, Howard?”
“Certainly, sir,” Howard replied.
Preston shot Yvonne a wide, white smile. “We can’t deny ZNC’s darling of crime a place to work, can we?”
“No, we can’t.”
With a chortle, Preston said, “I was just talking to Jim about the Audra Walker story. We got Hopkins to agree to an exclusive interview tonight with Pam. She’s taking the lead on this story.” With a cock of his head, he studied her. “Are you okay with that?”
“Sure, I’m fine,” Yvonne said. “I have my own breaking stories to keep up on.”
“I was just wondering, since you’ve been investigating Walker’s disappearance.”
“No,” Yvonne said with a shake of her head. “That was always Pam’s story.” As if to reassure him, she flashed him a broad grin. “Of course, as has always been the case, if a big lead happens to land in my lap, you know me …”
It took a full moment for a slow grin to cross Preston’s face before he replied, “Yes, I do know you, Yvonne. No one has ever forgotten about your scoop on the Hilton case—the one you got after Jim told you to back off.”
She giggled. “A good news journalist doesn’t stop following the evidence just because it leads her in an unpleasant direction.”
“Even if that direction leads her into a major shareholder’s backyard?”
“If I hadn’t broken the story, one of our competitors would have.”
“Not necessarily,” Preston muttered.
David watched Yvonne and the CEO lock gazes until Preston allowed a smile to force its way across his face. “Howard will set up office space for you on the fortieth floor, Yvonne. It will be ready by the time you return from lunch.”
After shaking his hand, Yvonne allowed him to once again kiss her cheek before she and David continued to wait for the elevator.
“Quite a friendly CEO,” David noted.
“Preston does have a weakness for the fairer sex,” Yvonne admitted. “But he’s also a perfect gentleman. He’s got a ton of influence in the biz.”