Margaret didn’t reply, preferring to sit with her hands folded in her lap, her prior belligerent posture deflated by the editor’s reaction. She was a political enough animal to know when the tide wasn’t in her favor, and Talbert’s tone had made clear that he wasn’t taking her complaint to heart.
She finally spoke. “You’re the boss. If this is acceptable behavior to you, then I’ll just have to deal with it.”
“I don’t get the sense that Leah is trying to undermine your authority, Margaret. Maybe you both need a little distance from each other. For the time being, I’ll take over supervising Leah so you won’t have to bother with her.” He shifted his focus to Leah. “That being the case, I’ll want a daily update on what you’ve been up to, with no exceptions. If you have to go to Mexico again or can’t make it in due to something story related, I expect a message explaining yourself. Understood?”
Leah nodded. This was the best she could have hoped for. She wouldn’t have to deal directly with Margaret anymore, at least for a while, and Talbert seemed to be backing her, albeit conditionally.
“So, ladies, I trust that concludes this matter,” Talbert said, in a manner that confirmed the meeting was over.
Margaret and Leah rose, and Talbert set his glasses on the desk by her file. “Leah, could you stay for a moment?”
“Um, sure.”
Margaret stalked to the door and opened it. “You want it closed?”
Talbert nodded. “Please.”
When Margaret was gone, Talbert’s demeanor changed from the relaxed editor to one of agitation.
“I know Moore. Not that well, but I have a difficult time believing he’s a serial killer, Leah. And there’s no way I’m going to publish this unless legal says it’s a go, which they won’t. Send it to me in digital format along with any supporting documentation, and I’ll fire it off to them, but I don’t view going off on a wild-goose chase and wasting the paper’s time a good investment of your energy.”
“I understand what you’re saying, boss, but you have to admit, it’s provocative. And the tie-in with the football rape…I mean, it all fits with the behavior of a predator who graduated from forced sex to worse when he discovered he could get away with it.”
“I read your outline, and I know where you’re going with it. But there’s no there there. It’s entirely circumstantial. It would never hold up in court, because it’s all hearsay with no beef.”
“If he’s hosting thrill-kill parties in Juárez, that’s the story of the decade.”
“And if he isn’t, it would get us sued into oblivion.” Talbert sighed. “It’s my job to ensure that doesn’t happen. But I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt, since I can see so much work went into this. I’ll send it to legal and get their opinion. Then we’ll see where it goes.”
She studied his face. “Does the fact that you’re friends with him change how you view the story?”
Talbert leaned back in his chair and rubbed a hand across his face. “Leah, I respect your talent and your drive. That’s why I took a chance on you when you were blacklisted by every paper in the country. But there are limits to the allowances I’ll make for your passion and energy. If you think it’s in your best interest to ask your editor whether he’s going to kill a story for personal reasons that, if true, would expose a monster, perhaps I made a mistake in rehiring you.”
“I…I didn’t mean to offend you, sir.”
“You need to work on your bedside manner some if you honestly believe that insinuating that I’d shield a serial killer isn’t offensive. It ranks right up there with a “When did you stop beating your wife?” approach, which, frankly, your story also does, and which I detest at a fundamental level. It’s dishonest journalism, and I don’t want any part of it. But if it’s true, and if you can prove it, I’ll hand carry it to the printer and ensure it’s on the front page in all caps.”
Leah’s breathing seemed loud to her as she recoiled from her editor’s scolding. She struggled for the right words, but only managed a, “Yes, sir, thank you, sir,” before pushing herself to her feet.
“I’ll send it over to you right away,” she managed, and Talbert waved a limp hand at her, already on to other matters.
“Do that,” he said, staring at his monitor. “I’ll keep you appraised.”
Chapter 29
Leah’s cell rang as she moped at her desk, waiting for word from the attorneys. It was Uriel.
“Hello, Uriel,” she said.
“Hello. Have you made any progress on your end?”
“I think so. We’ll see.”
He hesitated. “What’s wrong?”
“The story, for starters. It’s like trying to grab a ghost. I mean, it hangs together and it’s all plausible, but nothing has any substance. I keep hoping Saldaño will get me some more information, but he’s gone dark.” She explained her meeting with Talbert in hushed tones, eyes on Margaret, who was as far as she could get from Leah and still be in the newsroom. When she stopped to take a breath, Uriel interrupted.
“That doesn’t sound good.”
“No. I had to show him my work prematurely. I’d normally have developed the piece further and corroborated it with hard evidence, but there was no time. It was either save my job by spilling the beans, or get fired and be out on the street. That wouldn’t have done me any good and certainly wouldn’t have helped your sister.”
“I have some news here, but I’m waiting for more detail, too. I met with one of the mothers of the missing girls on Saturday and spent yesterday trying to find some others. I hired a private investigator to get more information on them, but he apparently doesn’t have the same urgency we do. I called him again this morning, and he said he would get right on it, which tells me he did nothing Sunday except collect his fee.”
“Are you surprised?”
“No. Disappointed. But I’ll live.”
“What’s on your agenda today?”
“Court’s closed until tomorrow, but Ortiz and I are going to go back to the jail and see if we can pass around enough money so I can talk to Ana Maria, at least to let her know I’m working to free her.” He paused. “But so far this isn’t going well,” he admitted. “Oh, and Arellano – the attorney who was handling the will? Died in an office fire on Friday. The police are investigating, but it will obviously slow any payouts from the insurance company. I saw it on the news.”
“That’s awful. I mean, we were just there…”
“Yes. Seems like if it weren’t for bad luck, I’d have none at all at this point.”
“What’s your next step – assuming we don’t have a breakthrough?”
“I want to go to the bank up there and look in the box, but I don’t know how long we’ll be at the jail. Ortiz said it could take hours to find someone pliable.”
“And I’m stuck here at the office until I hear from legal. Worst case, we can meet up early tomorrow and be at the bank when it opens.”
“I hate to wait that long.”
“Even if the file is in the box and it contains something that Ortiz can use to free your sister, it still won’t happen instantly – we both know that. He’ll need to write a motion or a brief or whatever, present it, and the judge who issued the warrant will have to consider it, won’t he? A few hours won’t matter in that case, will it?”
“I’m just worried about her, Leah.”
“I know. Call me later if you learn anything more or get to see her. I’m just sitting here twiddling my thumbs.”
“Will do.”
Just before lunchtime, Talbert waved to her from his office doorway, and she practically jumped from her seat to join him. Inside the office, he pointed to his speakerphone as she took a seat. He leaned against a bookcase and called out, “Henry? The reporter, Leah Mason, is with us. Leah, Henry Albrucher, our lead counsel. Tell her what you told me.”
“Your story is nothing but unsubstantiated guesswork. It’s a hatchet job that will ruin the target’s reputation, not
hing more. Absent any proof, you can’t run it.”
Leah wasn’t surprised by the news. “What would constitute proof that could change your view?” she asked.
“Recordings from credible witnesses. Not thirdhand nonsense. You literally have not a shred of evidence that any of this is true.”
“It’s in the early stages, I know,” she said.
“It’s a hypothesis disguised as a story. A theory based on hearsay.”
“But the Mexican reporter, Saldaño–”
“Has given you a couple of blurry pictures that prove nothing, and told you a tall tale. I’m sorry, Miss Mason. You don’t have anything we can run with there. The paper would be sued out of business, and rightfully so. It would be borderline criminal to go out with it.” The attorney paused. “Consider what you’ve got. It’s like accusing someone of rape, only worse. If it turns out to be false, the stigma stays with them regardless. Nobody ever completely believes the accused was innocent. My counsel to Ridley is to drop it like a hot rock.”
Sleep deprived as she was, Leah realized the lawyer was right. She’d gone off prematurely to save her job, but in the process had made herself look foolish by presenting just the bones of a story instead of a researched piece worthy of publication.
“I never submitted this for the paper to run, to be clear. I was just developing it, seeing where it would go.”
Talbert leaned over the speaker. “Thanks, Henry. Always a pleasure.”
“I’ll send a bill.”
Talbert stabbed the line off and looked at Leah for a long moment. “You heard him.”
“I know. He’s right.”
“It’s his job to be.”
“But the only reason I showed you the file was to prove I wasn’t wasting everyone’s time, like Margaret said.”
Talbert nodded. “I know. You do better work than this. I bear some of the responsibility, too. The pair of you aren’t a good fit, and I should have seen this coming to a head.” He sat down behind his desk with a grunt. “I have a meeting with some advertisers in two minutes. Let’s revisit this after lunch, shall we?”
“Doesn’t sound like there’s much to revisit.”
Talbert looked at his watch. “Shall we say…in an hour and a half?”
“Two o’clock,” she agreed, and then beat a retreat from his office, humbled and defeated. Margaret caught her eye from across the room and Leah could have sworn the woman smirked before resuming a discussion with one of the other reporters, as though sensing that Leah had been handed her head. Leah retraced her steps to her desk and shut down her PC, and then hurried to the lobby stairs. A headache was building to a crescendo from tension and lack of sleep. She would make a sandwich at home and try to snatch an hour of rest, her victory over Margaret that morning rapidly turning into a pathetic defeat.
Chapter 30
Leah entered the newsroom at one fifty-nine, feeling puffy and on edge from her aborted nap. She was making her way to her desk when her desk phone jangled, and she rushed to answer it, nearly tripping in the process.
“Mason,” she said.
“Leah, it’s Talbert. Are you ready?”
“Absolutely.”
Moments later Talbert exited his office and approached Leah’s desk. “Let’s go downstairs to the conference room, shall we?”
She was puzzled by his vaguely amused expression, but tried not to show it. Of all possible reactions, she hadn’t expected that. “Um, okay.”
Leah trailed the editor down the steps into a corridor. Talbert stopped at the first door and knocked.
“Yes?” a voice said from inside.
Talbert swung the door open and stepped into the room. Leah followed him and stiffened when she saw who was sitting at the conference table in an impeccable hand-tailored blue suit, a twinkle in his cobalt eyes.
“Close the door,” Talbert said. Leah did so with numb fingers, trying to process how her editor could have sold her out. Talbert sat in one of the ten chairs and considered her. “I see by your face I don’t have to introduce Warren Moore.”
Leah felt ready to bolt from the room. Talbert nodded to Moore and looked to Leah.
“Warren wanted to come and discuss your story after I took the liberty of calling him and asking him some specific questions about the allegations it raised,” Talbert said. “I didn’t tell him everything, but he was kind enough to take time out from a very busy schedule and meet with you to explain what he believes is going on.”
Moore cleared his throat. “You’re Leah Mason, right?”
“That’s right.”
“I enjoyed your piece on the Juárez murders. It’s a national tragedy for Mexico, and it’s gone largely ignored. I was pleased to see your treatment, which seemed balanced and pointed out some glaring discrepancies in the official narrative.”
“I…thank you.”
Moore indicated a chair. “Have a seat and let’s go through your story piece by piece. Ridley tells me you got hornswoggled by a Mexican journalist. Doesn’t matter which one – they’re all the same. Bent as a silly straw. Goes with the territory.”
Leah sat and waited for Moore to continue.
“Ridley started off by showing keen interest in my high school years. Particularly 1986. He wouldn’t tell me why, but since I’m here, why don’t you ask whatever questions you have about it?”
“Were you on the football team of Coronado High in 1986?”
Moore nodded. “Sure. So what?”
“What do you know about the rape of a cheerleader by four members of the football team?”
Moore frowned. “I heard about it. Everyone did. Why?” He stared at Leah in bafflement and then realization animated his face. “You think I was one of the rapists? No wonder you’re looking at me like I’m a sidewinder.”
“Saying you weren’t isn’t the same as being innocent.”
“You didn’t do much research, did you?” he countered. “What was the date of the rape?”
“I…I have it in my notes,” Leah said, suddenly flustered by his going on the offensive.
“I can save you the trouble. It was just after New Year’s. I remember it well.”
“Why?” Leah asked.
“Because when I transferred from El Paso High School at the beginning of spring semester, when my family moved, it was all anyone talked about for weeks.”
Silence descended over the room, and Leah’s pulse sounded like kettledrums in her ears as they flushed with color. Talbert nodded slowly.
“That’s right. He transferred to Coronado after the rape. So he wasn’t a student at Coronado when it happened.”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but you can check that with the school board, I’m sure,” Moore said. “It’s probably pretty easy to do. I was in the yearbook at El Paso for 1985, and in some of the team shots from fall 1986 before I left. Same for Coronado, except I’m actually listed in the Coronado yearbook in ’86 and not in El Paso’s. I’m sure a little detective work could put two and two together on that.”
The ground seemed to rock beneath Leah’s feet. “I have photographs of you in Mexico. One of them with a girl who disappeared.”
“Really?” Moore said calmly. “Care to show them to me?”
“I can get them.”
Talbert nodded. “That would be a good idea right about now.”
Leah hurried from the room, disoriented from the confrontation with Moore, who was nothing in person like what she’d imagined. Although that didn’t mean anything – many serials were charismatic, intelligent, and fluent liars. She printed out a copy of the photo Saldaño had sent and brought it, together with the one that had come in the envelope, back to the conference room.
She set them on the table and Talbert slid them to Moore, who regarded them for a few seconds and then laughed. “I was pretty hammered in that one, I’ll bet. El Matador. Not my kind of place, but tequila will do that to you…”
“I talked to a witness who can place you there.�
��
“Uh-huh. And what’s the second picture?”
“You with the girl who disappeared,” Leah snapped, tiring of his glib tone.
“How do you know?” Moore asked quietly.
“Know what? It’s obviously you.”
“Hard to tell, but I’ll take your word for it. I meant how do you know that girl disappeared?”
Leah swallowed hard. “I have it on good authority.”
“From the reporter?”
“And others.”
“When did she disappear?” Moore asked.
Talbert sat forward. “This is where it gets good. I asked him already. But go ahead. You do it.”
“A month ago,” Leah said softly, eyes darting from Talbert to Moore and back again.
“You’re sure of that?” Talbert demanded.
“Yes. I have it in writing.”
One of Moore’s eyebrows rose. “From the reporter? Who planted the seed of the football rape?”
“That’s right.”
Moore sighed. “Is there anything else?”
“That isn’t enough?” Leah fired back.
Moore reached into the inside pocket of his suit, removed a blue booklet, and tossed it across the table to Leah. She eyed it like it was a tarantula, the gold lettering on the cover glinting in the conference room lights. “Go ahead. Look through it. Take your time.”
Leah didn’t want to ask the question, but felt compelled to by the man’s smug expression.
“Why?”
“Because I was in France for a little over a month and returned two and a half weeks ago, on vacation in Provence and then in Paris, finishing up in Monte Carlo. So I was several thousand miles away when you claim the girl disappeared – assuming that she actually did. Judging by that photo, that could be any of thousands of Mexican women.” Moore looked to Talbert. “They really didn’t do their homework, did they?”
“They?” Leah demanded.
Moore locked eyes with her. “Let me tell you what’s going on. You’re being suckered. And I know why and by whom. I own an interest in a partnership in Juárez with a group there. They welcomed my contacts and money when we started it, but now that it’s profitable, they want to cut me out. They made me an offer that was a fraction of fair value, and I told them to pound sand. So now they’re trying something else: to ruin my reputation, make me want nothing to do with Mexico anymore. If your paper was stupid enough to run the story, I’d be finished there – wouldn’t matter if it was true or not, some angry relative might take a shot at me next time I’m in Juárez. That’s what this is all about. Money. A hatchet job in a U.S. paper. The Mexican papers probably wouldn’t print it because they’re afraid I’ll sue them into the ground, and they’re right. So they set you up as the patsy, figuring you’re on a hot streak after the last article, and you might be so desperate for a news angle that you’d shoot first and ask questions later.”
A Girl Apart Page 17