by Pamela Clare
He wasn’t pulling rank. He wasn’t using his status as a state senator to ask for any favors. He just had a few questions that needed answers. “This is Senator Reece Sheridan. Get me Police Chief Irving, please.”
It was a crime to threaten someone. According to Kara, she’d spoken to the police in the past over previous death threats, and they hadn’t taken her seriously.
Reece intended to find out why.
CHAPTER 9
* * *
KARA CALLED the whistleblower first thing Thursday morning and left a message on his cell phone. It bothered her that she hadn’t reached him right away in person. If someone connected to Northrup knew she was investigating the plant, it was possible, however unlikely, that he knew about Mr. Marsh, as well.
She’d just gotten her notes about the latest lab results ready for the I-team meeting, when Holly bounded into her cubicle dressed in a very tight black dress and a wide smile. “Sorry I called so late, Kara, but I just had to tell you!”
“Talk fast. I’ve got an I-team meeting in five.”
While Kara sharpened a day’s supply of pencils—like any self-respecting reporter she held pens in disdain because they froze in cold weather, couldn’t write on wet paper, and ran out of ink when you needed them most—Holly related how the Orkin man had come to kill her roaches and ended up almost shagging her on her living room carpet.
“He was a hottie, blond, and really enormous like a Viking or something. His hands were huge!”
Despite her best intentions, Kara couldn’t focus on Holly’s narration, her mind on the meeting and what was sure to become a confrontation with Tom. “Well, he’ll probably be back, won’t he? It’s not like roaches ever die.”
Holly looked at her, irritation on her face. “You haven’t been listening. I said I kept thinking of all the chemicals that might be on his hands, and I couldn’t go through with it.”
“Oh, well, that’s probably a good decision. Gotta go.” Kara grabbed her notes and sharpened pencils and hurried off to the conference room, trying to ignore the butterflies in her stomach.
Today was the day. She was going to tell Tom she was taking time off tomorrow morning. And when he acted like a jerk, as he inevitably would, she was going to stand up for herself and not make excuses or apologize. The newspaper owed her more comp time than she’d ever be able to collect. She ought to be able to take three hours off on a Friday without taking flack for it.
She listened while Tessa gave an update on the police shooting du jour. It seemed cops from the drug task force had exercised a no-knock warrant at the wrong house and shot the wrong man. Several members of the force had been suspended pending the outcome of the internal investigation, but citizens were calling for an overhaul of the entire department.
“I think this is front page, above the fold—twenty inches at least,” Tessa said.
Syd punched the numbers into her calculator and scribbled the results on her control sheet. “Get mug shots of the suspended officers if you can.”
Joaquin grinned. “Already on it.”
“McMillan.” Tom turned his gaze to Kara.
“The three water samples I took from neighbors’ wells show varying levels of petroleum products and of methylene chloride. It’s the same soup that’s in the drainage ditch.”
Tessa shook her head in disgust. “Nail ’em, Kara.”
Matt gave a low whistle of appreciation.
“Great work, Kara.” Sophie gave Kara a smile. “You are going to save people’s lives on this one. You know that, don’t you?”
Kara shrugged off the praise. “Having these results puts us in a bind. I cannot ethically delay reporting this information to the county and state health departments or to the people whose wells the contaminated water was drawn from. But the moment I report the contamination and its ostensible source, the fine folks at Northrup will be on to me.”
If they aren’t already.
“That’s when the real fun begins.” Matt shot her a conspiratorial adrenaline-junkie grin.
Kara took a deep breath and spoke the words casually and with finality, just as she’d rehearsed them. “Just FYI, I won’t be available tomorrow morning. I’m chaperoning a field trip for my son’s preschool class.”
The good mood permeating the room vanished.
Matt coughed. Tessa sipped her latte. Syd stopped punching numbers into her calculator and looked up.
“Okay.” Tom nodded. “Do you feel comfortable leaving the Northrup story untended for a day?”
Resolved to stand up for herself, Kara met Tom’s gaze. “It’s not even a full half-day. I doubt anything earthshaking will occur during the three hours I’m away. I’ll have my cell phone just in case. Even reporters are entitled to time off.”
“It’s more an issue of commitment than a question of what you’re entitled to, McMillan.” His voice carried a clear note of disappointment.
Matt coughed again.
Kara sat up straighter and tried to look outraged instead of intimidated. “Are you questioning my commitment, Tom?”
He waved her query away with an impatient swipe of his hand. “Of course not. By all means, take the morning off.”
But the cold shoulder he gave her for the rest of the meeting proved he was far from happy with her decision.
REECE SNIFFED his shirt and relished the homey scent of the fabric softener. He was used to the dull industrial smell of dry cleaning on his clothes, and it surprised him how much he appreciated the difference. Or perhaps it was just the fact that Kara had personally washed this shirt that was getting to him. He’d been about to hang it in his closet last night when he’d decided instead to wear it again.
This fact would, of course, remain forever his secret. If he ever told any of his male friends this, they would write him off. “Whipped,” they would say.
He turned his mind back to the session. A senator from the Western Slope was making a passionate appeal for changes in the way marketing for the fruit industry was regulated. Reece couldn’t figure out why state law regulated the marketing of fruit in the first place and listened closely, taking notes, until his cell phone vibrated in his pocket. A glance at the display showed him it was a call from the police department.
He stood and hurried from the Senate chamber into the hallway. “This is Sheridan. Go ahead.”
“I checked files dating back five years, Senator. Found nothing. If she filed a report, there’s no record of it.”
“Is it standard operating procedure to keep reports on file?”
“Yes. Are you sure she filed an official report?”
“Believe me, Chief Irving, if she did anything, she did it officially and by the book.”
“That’s damned peculiar.”
“Is it possible that whoever took the report didn’t take it seriously and just threw it away?”
“It’s possible, but I think it’s more likely that it got lost.”
“You just said you looked through all the records and found nothing.”
“Yes, but—”
“So where else could it be?”
“I don’t know.”
“Here’s what concerns me, Chief. Kara McMillan has ruffled a lot of feathers in this city. What if someone deliberately ignored her report and left her open to danger because he just didn’t like her?”
Chief Irving hesitated for a moment. “None of my detectives would do that.”
“I’m glad to hear that, because we are all guaranteed equal protection under the law. Unfortunately, Ms. McMillan is so convinced the police department won’t help her that she hasn’t reported a recent incident in which her life was blatantly threatened.”
“I don’t like to hear that. Give her my number, Senator, and I assure you I’ll handle the case personally. In the meantime, I’ll ask our officers to put in extra patrols on her street.”
“Thank you, Chief. I’d appreciate that. I’ll pass your number along.”
Reece disconnected the
call and glanced at his watch. He needed to leave soon if he was going to make it to the little wine shop on 16th Street before it closed. There were also groceries to buy, flowers to order, sheets to wash, and a condo to clean.
When had he last gone to this kind of effort for a woman? He didn’t know. He didn’t care. All he knew for sure was that he had a lot to do to make his home sex-ready for tomorrow night—and that Kara would be worth every rubber-glove minute of it.
KARA NOTIFIED the people who’d let her take samples from their wells and heard the shock, rage, and fear in their voices. She couldn’t tell them where the contamination was coming from because she wasn’t 100-percent certain herself. But at least they knew not to drink it or give it to their livestock. She passed on the phone numbers for the county, state, and EPA water-quality offices and asked them to call her if anything developed.
“You got it, honey,” said Moira Farnsworth. “Without you’d we’d be drinking the damned stuff.”
She reached Mr. Marsh late in the afternoon and was relieved to hear he was doing well.
“I’ve got something for you,” he said, his voice betraying excitement.
“You do? What?”
“Videotape.”
She was so stunned it took her a moment to react. “Videotape?”
“Yeah. I hid one of them little video cameras in my gear and got footage from everything inside the plant.”
Kara wanted that footage, and she wanted it now. “That’s very daring of you, Mr. Marsh. Do you think anyone might have seen you taping?”
“No way. I made certain no one else was around. Besides, I kept the camera hid.”
“That’s good. When can I see it?”
“Let’s meet at the usual place tomorrow at noon.”
“See you there.”
“Video-frigging-tape!” she crowed to the rest of the I-team. “Does it get any sweeter than that?”
She was so excited about the video footage that she completely forgot about her problem with Tom. She’d known his words in the meeting weren’t the end of it. The other shoe dropped just as Kara was preparing to leave for the day.
“McMillan!” Tom’s voice poured out of the speaker on her phone. “Step into my office, please.”
“We’re with you, Kara.” Sophie gave her a hopeful smile.
Tessa shook her head. “He’s lucky you don’t sue his ass, girl.”
“Thanks.” Kara took a deep breath and walked off to face her doom.
Tom was bent over his computer reading some report on the Internet. He didn’t look at her when she walked in. “Is this going to be a regular thing, McMillan?”
She felt her pulse quicken. God, how she hated being intimidated! Why did she let Tom do this to her? “No. They were short on chaperones and would have had to cancel—”
“I’m glad to hear that.” Then Tom turned to face her and gave her a version of the “watchdogs of freedom” speech he saved for when he wanted to make someone feel guilty for having any life beyond the newsroom.
Kara listened, her fear of him gradually turning to anger. She tried not to roll her eyes, tried not to heave a bored sigh. God, the man could be a dick!
Keep your mouth shut, McMillan. You need the regular paycheck, remember?
“The bottom line, McMillan, is that we are the watchdogs of freedom, the Fourth Estate. We guard the future. It’s a big responsibility, one that demands a total commitment. You already leave early every day to pick up your kid. You take time off when he’s sick. And now you’re taking time off to take him to a museum. Yes, I know you’re entitled to time off, but it’s not a matter of what you’re entitled to or how much comp time you have. It’s a question of drive, McMillan. I need to know your heart is in this.”
She couldn’t believe what he’d just said, felt her guts begin to simmer with rage. “Of course my heart is in this, Tom! I have been since the day I walked through the door.”
He measured her through eyes that seemed to lack compassion, then apparently having finished bullying her, he motioned her out of the door.
Kara turned to leave, but rather than feeling relief that it was over, she felt white-hot rage. She turned to face him, and the words left her mouth before she could stop them. “You are so full of crap, Tom! I don’t leave early every day. I leave after a full eight-hour day and then put in a couple hours every night. I work at home on the weekends. I work my ass off precisely because I know how important a free press is. I don’t need your sermonizing to tell me that!”
He looked up at her, his face devoid of emotion. “Shut the door, McMillan.”
“Why? There isn’t a person who works in this newsroom who hasn’t felt what I’m feeling right now. You begrudged Matt time off for his wedding. You begrudged Syd time off for her father’s frigging funeral. You begrudged me maternity leave. And now you bully me because I want a few hours off to spend with my son?” She was so angry her voice trembled. “The truth is this paper owes me so much comp time there’s no way I could take it all. If I want to take a few hours to be a responsible parent to my son, then, damn it, I’m going to take a few hours, and you’re not going to get away with giving me a guilt trip about it!”
He looked genuinely surprised now. “Are you through?”
Shut up, McMillan. Shut frigging up!
But Kara’s blood was at a full boil now, and she was going to say it all. “You always say that we journalists ‘guard the future.’ What is that future, Tom? Have you ever stopped working long enough to ask yourself that question? Well, my son is my future. He’s a human being, and he depends on me for everything. He is my first responsibility, and I’m not going to apologize to you for trying to give him the love and care he deserves! If you don’t like that, take it up with Human Resources, because I’m through putting up with this crap! I am entitled to a fucking life!”
Then she turned, and, all but oblivious to the cheers and applause from her newsroom colleagues, grabbed her briefcase and stormed down the hallway toward the exit.
KARA WAS so distracted pondering the consequences of her outburst that she was on autopilot through dinner, bath time, and bedtime stories. So much for being a good mother.
She had no idea what Tom would do. Perhaps she’d be written up. Or maybe he’d take the Northrup story away from her and give it to someone who wasn’t on his shit list. Maybe she’d find a check in her box tomorrow along with an invitation to turn in her keys and get lost.
“Read another one, Mommy.” Connor held out yet another dinosaur book.
“Not tonight, pumpkin. But tomorrow we go to the museum to see real fossils. Won’t that be fun?”
He nodded, crawled beneath the covers, and smiled up at her, innocent adoration in his eyes. In that moment, she felt terribly unworthy of that much love.
Fighting tears, she sat, running her fingers through his silky brown hair. The scent of baby shampoo, one of her favorite smells, tickled her nose. “I love you, Connor. You’re a wonderful boy, and I love you. No matter what, you remember that, okay?”
He nodded.
She kissed his cheek and tucked the covers up to his chin. “Good night.”
“Good night, Mommy.”
He called just as she shut off Connor’s light. Overwhelmed by her confrontation with Tom, she had forgotten all about him.
This time she hit record.
“Stupid bitch! Back off now, or your son is going to grow up without a mother. Do you understand me?”
Kara’s pulse pounded, and her mind raced for some way to get him to reveal who he was or at least to confirm his connection with Northrup. “I think you have the wrong number.”
Slick, McMillan! Bet that one’s in the FBI training manual.
“I know exactly who I’m talking to, Kara McMillan. And you’d best do as you’re told.”
“What do you want me to back off from? What am I supposed to—”
But the line was already dead.
KARA HADN’T been able to sle
ep all night, but as she slipped a new dinosaur T-shirt over Connor’s head and made his oatmeal, she did her best to act like a mother who had nothing on her mind but a delightful day at the museum with her child. She added apples to the oatmeal, packed chocolate milk with his lunch, and even growled with him, as they displayed their six-inch-long serrated T-rex teeth—hidden by foamy toothpaste—in the bathroom mirror.
It was a sunny day, one of those strange Colorado winter days where it’s so warm people walk down the street in shorts and sandals against a backdrop of snowy, white mountains.
Kara helped Connor into his car seat and then slipped into the driver’s seat. “Let’s go see some fossils!”
The other preschoolers were likewise full of growls and extra bounce, and Kara found herself laughing at their Pleistocene antics despite her other stresses.
She got the call just as they were climbing aboard the school bus that would take them across town.
“Kara McMillan?” The voice was unfamiliar.
“Yes.”
“I’m Scott Hammond. I’m an inspector with the state health department. Can we talk off the record?”
Kara settled into her bus seat beside Connor and tucked her purse between her thighs. “Actually, now isn’t a good time, but I would love to speak with you. Can I call you back later today?”
“No, this is important. Northrup is crawling all over this place. They’ve been here since Monday. You need to get down here. Their attorneys are scouring through our records, telling the state attorney which documents they can include in your open-records request and which they can’t.”
Kara felt a surge of fury. “That’s illegal. They can’t get away with that.”
“It’s worse than that. They know about Henry Marsh. He came to me a few months ago, gave me photos, told me what was going on out there. I made official records of it but kept his name hidden in my own personal files. When I arrived this morning, those files had been taken. Based on what you asked for in your open-records request, I figure he’s been speaking with you, too.”