Captive Hearts

by Natasha West

  Captive Hearts

  By

  Natasha West

  Copyright © 2020 by Natasha West

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  With thanks to Brooke’s eagle eyes.

  One

  Ashley Quick knew she shouldn’t say anything. She really shouldn’t. It wasn’t her business.

  Then again… It was Mac’s second hotdog. And his wife had let slip about his high blood pressure at the Christmas party after two and a half glasses of pinot grigio. Mac was playing with fire with every mouthful of mechanically separated meat. He might die in front of her.

  Ashley decided she had to speak up. She just needed to be super tactful. She cleared her throat. ‘Hey, Mac?’

  Mac turned to her. ‘Yes, boss?’ he mumbled, mouth full.

  ‘You eat any more of that, and you’re gonna die of a stroke pretty soon. Possibly this afternoon. And then your poor wife will have to raise your kids alone. Well, until she meets a new man. Your kids are, what? Five and seven? Young enough that they’ll definitely end up calling the new husband, Dad.’

  Mac’s eyes widened in horror, and that was how Ashley knew that she’d probably missed ‘super tactful.’ But she’d started now. There was nowhere to go but forward and down. ‘But if you’re OK with your wedding album being shoved into a storage box in the attic, so it’s not an awkward reminder to New Daddy of the man who used to have his family before he died a very avoidable death at forty-four, by all means, finish your pig arsehole in a bun.’

  Mac was agape. The piece of hot dog he’d been eating fell clean out of his mouth. Ashley watched his face pass through the shock of what she’d said, slipping quickly into rage. ‘Jesus fucking Christ, what did you have for breakfast this morning? Barbed wire on toast?’

  Ashley shrugged. ‘I’m just telling it like it is, Mac.’ She was always having this conversation or some form of it. Over and over, with everyone she knew. Because Ashley was honest in a way that didn’t really go hand in hand with politeness. She supposed that was why she’d ended up working in news. She craved facts; the truth stripped down to the bone. Of course, it hadn’t really turned out like that. She wasn’t breaking stories, getting the truth out there. She was reporting on local sports team wins, council plans, and - today - a break-in at a school. Local news didn’t really deal in hard truths. But Ashley did. And it didn’t matter very much to her if people got their egos bruised by it. Not if they needed to hear it. And Mac clearly needed a shock to the system if he was going to change his diet. ‘You’ll thank me one day,’ she said, though she didn’t believe it. No one ever thanked her.

  Mac threw the remainder of his meal in a bin next to the roadside food truck. ‘You know what? You’re a real…’ He couldn’t quite bring himself to finish the sentence. He took a deep breath instead. ‘I’m going to get the cam.’ He stormed off to the van parked down the street.

  Ashley checked her watch. Ten minutes until she was expected to do this crappy interview with the headmistress of the school across the road. Someone had nicked the lead of the roof. Not exactly big news, but Ashley would do her best to make a silk purse out of a pig’s ear.

  As she finished her cup of coffee, she looked at the school and its surrounding gate. She started thinking…

  She got out her pad and made a few notes.

  ***

  ‘So when the caretaker arrived on Tuesday morning, he didn’t realise anyone had gotten in at first. Until it started raining and water began to pour onto year nine integrated humanities. Liam Coleman had apparently spent all morning on his hair, and he was absolutely beside himself when his quiff got drenched. I’ve had his mother in asking for compensation,’ the headmistress of Harewood Comp said wearily, trying not to look at the camera pointing at her over Ashley’s shoulder.

  Ashley nodded. ‘Mmm, I see. And how did the criminals get in?’

  ‘We think they climbed over the railings,’ said the elderly caretaker, jumping into shot beside the headmistress. She looked rather irritated by his limelight thieving but said nothing.

  Ashley turned her attention to the man. ‘The railings out the front?’ They’re about twelve foot, aren’t they?’

  ‘Yes, we think they probably brought a ladder,’ he said quickly.

  ‘Someone put a ladder up against a railing on a residential street at night and no one noticed?’ Ashley said. She could feel Mac stiffening without even looking at him. She knew he was wondering why the hell she was pushing. This was a nothing story, and she wasn’t Woodward, nor Bernstein. But she was going somewhere with this, and she needed a minute.

  ‘If they did it late, like three in the morning, I’m sure no one would have heard,’ the man said.

  Ashley leaned into the caretaker and the headmistress; her tone conversational. ‘Yeah, the thing is though…. I don’t know.’

  ‘You don’t know what?’ the headmistress asked.

  ‘Yeah, what don’t you know?’ the caretaker repeated.

  Ashley was happy to explain. ‘Well, I mean, I’ve lived on a street like this. Nothing ever goes truly unnoticed, not by suburbanites. Especially the older ones. They don’t sleep so well and the sound of someone propping a twelve-foot ladder up against a railing? I think that would be heard, personally.’

  The caretaker started grinding his teeth. The headmistress was frowning. ‘What are you getting at?’

  ‘What I’m getting at is that no one had to actually break in.’ She fixed the caretaker with a hard stare. ‘You left the gate open, didn’t you?’

  The caretaker was stone-faced, mute. Seconds passed.

  ‘I’m not saying you were involved in the theft,’ Ashley went on. ‘More likely, you just left it open by accident. Maybe you were tired at the end of a long day and eager to go home? Is that what happened?’

  ‘No,’ the caretaker growled. ‘I told you, they brought a ladder, came up the front.’

  ‘Did they?’ Ashley asked.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘A minute ago, it was just a theory. Now you’re sure about the point and the method of entry?’ Ashley asked the man.

  ‘No, I mean, I don’t know, I didn’t… I wasn’t….’ the man stuttered. Ashley let him sputter. She knew she was right. The theft had been this man’s fault.

  The headmistress sighed. ‘Oh, Barry. You didn’t.’

  The caretaker looked at his boss. ‘I didn’t leave it open, I can’t have! I didn’t even lock up, the other caretaker was supposed to!’

  It didn’t take long for Ashley to put two and two together. ‘Oh, so you thought he was doing it, and he thought you were doing it?’

  The man opened his mouth to explain more. But what was there to say? He began to blub. ‘I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!’

  The headmistress was beside herself. ‘Oh fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck,’ she muttered to herself, the camera now forgotten. ‘You know what this means, don’t you, Barry? We’re at fault. Which means the insurance won’t pay up. How the hell are we going to pay for this ourselves? I’m budgeted down to the penny!’ the headmistress cried.

  Ashley sensed it wasn’t going to get any better than that, and she turned around to face the camera. ‘Th
is is Ashley Quick reporting for KTN,’ she said, the sound of the man’s tears in the background. ‘Right, cut,’ she added for Mac.

  Mac put the camera down. He was shaking his head in disbelief. ‘Unbelievable,’ he muttered to himself.

  Ashley ignored him, turning back to the headmistress. ‘Thanks very much for that, it’ll be on at six tonight.’

  The headmistress, her face as pale as the moon, a thousand-yard stare in her eyes, replied, ‘I’ll be sure to tune in.’

  Ashley nodded. She walked out.

  ***

  ‘We’re not putting it out,’ Bernie, the station manager, said firmly. This was after a lot of back and forth between Ashley and the editor, Nicole, about what would be included in the package. Nicole was of the opinion that Ashley had been a vicious pit bull who’d gone too far, and Ashley was of the equally strong opinion that Nicole could shove it up her arse. Finally, they’d had to take it to the boss. He was on Nicole’s side. ‘We’re going to take a soundbite from the beginning before you started applying the thumbscrews to that poor old guy. But that’s all. We can’t air the full interview.’

  ‘What?’ Ashley said. ‘Why not? It’s news, isn’t it?’

  ‘Ashley, for the love of god. We’re local news, we don’t do things like this,’ he told her. ‘We don’t do “gotchas.”’

  ‘I know it’s not usual to get a confession during an interview, Bernie, but this is good stuff, you’ve got to see that,’ Ashley exclaimed. ‘I got the truth.’

  ‘You got an old man to cry, and you got a school in financial trouble. No one would want to see this,’ Bernie told her sharply.

  Ashley was ready to explode. ‘This isn’t right. And I think if I talked to the station owner-’

  Bernie shook his head. ‘I’ve already done that. Everyone upstairs has seen this. They think the same as me. It’s not appropriate for local news. I’ve already deleted the footage; this is never getting seen.’

  Ashley gasped. ‘You can’t do that.’

  ‘I’ve done it. And you should thank me. You don’t come off well in this, Ashley. You come off like a bully.’

  Ashley frowned. ‘I’m not a bully. I was just… It was obvious what had happened, and I just thought-’

  ‘Yeah, I know. You saw a story. Well, if you’d solved a murder, we might be having a different discussion right now. But it was a shitty small story that didn’t need to come out.’

  Ashley wanted to keep arguing the point. But she was starting to wonder if Bernie was right. Had she gone too far?

  Bernie took his tone down to something gentler. ‘Look, Ashley, you need to stop trying to push your job to be something it’s never going to be. You wanna do things like this, you can’t do them here. Maybe you should consider taking your talents elsewhere.’

  ‘I’m trying to go national,’ Ashley admitted. ‘I’ve applied everywhere.’

  ‘Then what the hell are you still doing with us tin-pot locals?’

  ‘I keep getting knocked back,’ Ashley told him plainly.

  Bernie frowned. ‘What feedback are you getting?’

  ‘They usually give me a load of rubbish about not having enough experience. But I’ve worked here three years. It should be enough to make a leap to national level.’

  ‘So what is it, then?’ Bernie asked.

  Ashley sighed. ‘I get people’s backs up. I know, alright? But what can I do about it?’

  Bernie sighed. ‘You know what your problem is? You go for the throat every time. You need to learn when it’s not appropriate to do that. You figure that out, I’m sure you’ll be incredibly successful.’

  Ashley tutted. ‘Easy as pie.’

  Bernie shrugged and turned back to his paperwork. ‘Well, that’s my advice. Take it or leave it.’ The conversation was over. Ashley left.

  But it wasn’t her last dressing down of the day. Mac was in the hall outside Bernie’s office, waiting for her. ‘I heard Nicole cut that footage within an inch of its life,’ he said self-righteously.

  ‘Yes, Mac. That’s right. I take it you approve?’ Ashley asked saltily. She really wasn’t up for being told off again. She was prepared to accept she might have gotten this one wrong, but that didn’t mean she was going to take it all lying down.

  ‘I do approve,’ Mac said. ‘I’ve already called the headmistress and told her we’re not airing the stuff about the caretaker.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘Yeah, but she said it’s too late. She knows what really happened, so she has to tell the police the truth, or she could end up being done for fraud. Which means the insurance won’t cover the roof.’

  ‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ Ashley said, trying to stay cool. Mac was enjoying himself far too much. ‘Maybe they can have a fundraiser or something. Find the money that way.’

  ‘Yeah, maybe. They shouldn’t have to, though, should they?’ Mac spat. ‘What you did was bang out of order.’

  Ashley was too tired for this conversation. She just wanted to go home now. ‘Mac, I’ve already had a roasting. You don’t need to pile on. I get it, alright? I went too far. Just leave it.’

  Mac smiled sourly. ‘This isn’t me putting the boot in. It’s me quitting.’

  Ashley’s jaw fell on the floor. ‘What? Because of some old man crying?’

  ‘It’s not just that. It’s the way you are, it’s been doing my head in for a while. Oh, and my blood pressure? I don’t think it’s anything to do with my diet. It’s you.’

  Ashley’s jaw remained where it was. ‘Me?’

  ‘Yeah. You’re stressing me the fuck out, and I’VE HAD IT!’ Mac said, ramping up to a yell in the quiet corridor, his voice echoing, his rage bouncing off the walls to fill the space.

  But Ashley wasn’t one to cower before a bit of shouting. ‘You’ve had it? What about what I’ve had to put up with? You’re the worst cameraman I’ve ever worked with. Your handheld work is shaky as hell. If you were a surgeon, you’d kill all your patients.’

  Mac was livid. ‘How dare you!’ He held up his hand, palm flat. ‘Steady as a rock, I am!’

  ‘I don’t care. You’re sacked.’

  Mac looked a bit scared. ‘You can’t sack me, I...’ he trailed off as he remembered what he’d been doing before Ashley went on the offensive. ‘Hang about, I was quitting. I am quitting. I’ve quit!’

  ‘You can’t quit, you’re sacked,’ Ashley told him.

  ‘You can’t sack me, I’ve already quit,’ Mac barked back.

  Ashley realised they were looping. ‘Fine, just piss off, would you?’

  ‘Damn right, I will. I’ve got a mate at JTR that would be thrilled to have me there.’

  ‘Well, I hope they like their news looking like the bloody Blair Witch Project, then,’ Ashley told him.

  Mac’s nostrils did an almighty flare that a bull might have thought a tad dramatic, and he spun on his heel and stormed off.

  Ashley was left in the corridor, feeling demolished. Even by her standards, her desire to seek out a story had blown up in her face. She was down a camera operator. A shitty camera operator, but still. She was going to have to go right back into Bernie’s office and explain what had happened, get him to assign her someone else.

  Whoever it was, she just hoped to god they weren’t going to be as maddening as Mac had been.

  Two

  Gina Tucker was slathering butter on toast on a Tuesday morning, wondering what her day would hold – not a lot, most likely - when her phone rang. ‘Gina, for the love of god,’ a frantic voice greeted her. ‘Tell me you’re free?’

  Gina took the phone away from her ear to see who the hell was calling her with such a manic energy at this time of the day. It was Bernie Carter. He’d been the producer on her first job shooting promotional videos at twenty-one. Nice enough guy. She put the phone back to her ear. ‘Hi Bernie,’ she said. ‘Been a while.’

  ‘Yes, it has. Sorry. I probably should have started with hello, but I’m in a bit of a bind, and I can’t seem
to… So, look, are you free or do you have something on at the moment?’

  Gina was free, as it happened. She’d been second unit camera on a microbudget horror that had wrapped a week ago. Dreadful schlock, but it paid the bills. Just about. She hadn’t found her next job yet. Unless Bernie had a decent offer, that was. She’d sworn to herself, no more badly paid work. She couldn’t keep selling her stuff when things got tight. She was down to her last chair. ‘I just finished up a job, as a matter of fact, so I’m between things now.’

  ‘Oh, thank god. Look, I know you’re working in movies now, but how do you feel about shooting news reports for me?’