Dead Air

by Robin Caroll

  His nearness did strange things to her, but she fought against the attraction. His willingness to help clear Robert made her feel things she had no business feeling.

  Sheldon tapped her flawlessly manicured nails against the table. “Okay, bring us up to speed. All the talk in the library this afternoon was about the article. I’ve heard all the rumors floating around. What’s the truth?”

  “Actually, Tonna,” Gabby said, “I need to know all the dirt you’ve heard about Robert and Amber Ellison’s marriage.”

  Perfectly tweezed brows arched as Tonna leaned over the table. “I thought you didn’t like grapevine gossip.”

  “This is important.” Gabby’s stomach knotted at the thought of actually asking for hearsay on her boss. Yet, with everything the article had said…

  Clark cleared his throat.

  “Jump in, Mr. McKay. We’re all here to help and Gabby told us on the phone that you’re with us. So speak freely.” Rayne flicked her hair over her shoulder.

  He smiled and focused on Tonna. “It seems likely the Ellisons were heading for divorce.”

  “Well,” Tonna leaned against the cheap vinyl covering the back of the chair, “since y’all asked…rumor has it that Robert thought Amber’s been steppin’ out on him. For years. And he ain’t none too happy about it.” She gave a curt nod to emphasize her point. “And talk today implied she was seen with Howard on more than one occasion.”

  Sheldon shook her head, loosening a few strawberry-blond tendrils from her librarian bun. “Well, shut my mouth! People really think Amber was having an affair with Howard? I just can’t see it.”

  Tonna shrugged. “I’m only repeating what I hear, sistah. Mary Sue was just a-gabbin’ about it to Ms. LouAnn not even a month ago in the shop.”

  “And they really think there was something between Amber and Howard?” Gabby traced the grooves in the tabletop with her fingernail.

  “Oh, great day in the morning, Gab, you can’t believe that ole biddy Mary Sue.” Imogene shifted in her seat to face Gabby. “Come on, what gives? Why do you even care what the Geritol set is talking about?” She stirred her iced tea. “What does Amber have to say about all of this?”

  “She isn’t saying much. In fact, she’s barely talking at all.” Gabby replied. “Just crying.”

  “I don’t want to believe it, either.” Rayne lifted a shoulder. “But with all the rumors, I have to wonder.”

  Gabby bit her bottom lip, praying the tears wouldn’t come. “But most of all in this whole travesty, I just think Robert’s innocent.”

  “Of course you do, honey. He’s treated you like a father ever since he hired you.” Sheldon tore open two sugar packets from the dispenser and dumped the contents into her iced tea. “We all know how much you think of him.”

  “It’s not just that. It’s…I don’t even know how to explain it. It’s just a feeling I’ve got. In my gut.”

  “Sure that ain’t hunger rumbling about?” Tonna laughed. Carol Ann hoisted a tray of bowls over their heads. Gabby smiled at the waitress whose eyes were weighted down with wrinkles.

  “How’s your momma and them, Rayne?” Carol Ann asked as she set steaming bowls of bisque in front of them.

  “They’re fine, Carol Ann.”

  The woman sashayed away from the booth, hollering out greetings as she passed tables.

  Imogene bowed her head, and the other girls followed suit. After the blessing, the shaker of cayenne pepper made its way around the table before Gabby spoke what drummed in her heart. “We aim to find out the truth.”

  A cloak of silence fell over the table as everyone ate.

  Finally, Clark’s gaze collided with Gabby’s. Chills fingered up her spine as he dipped his head. “We will find out the truth.”

  Gratitude gripped Gabby’s heart in a tight squeeze. She peeked at her watch, then finished off her iced tea. “I gotta run, or I’ll be late to work.”

  Clark eased to standing and offered his hand to Gabby.

  She took it and straightened. Her heart beat erratically. “I’ll call y’all tomorrow. Keep an ear out for anything about Amber or Robert, okay?” She turned and rushed to the door, thankful for the excuse of work to make a fast getaway.

  The man made her feel things, think things…Well, she didn’t want to analyze everything now.

  As she cranked the engine of her vehicle, Gabby hit the speed-dial number of her cell phone for the Realtor’s office. She glanced at the clock. Yeah, they’d probably left for the day, but she’d leave a message.

  “Mystique Realty.” Wow, they were still there.

  “May I speak to Margaret Worth, please?”

  “Just a moment.”

  Elevator music filled her ear, annoying her further. Why couldn’t the local businesses support the radio station and pipe in KLUV’s broadcast?

  “This is Margaret. May I help you?”

  “Hi, Margaret, it’s Gabby.”

  An uncomfortable pause echoed against Gabby’s eardrum. “Oh. Hi, Gabby.” Another long beat of silence. “I guess you heard the house sold.”

  “I did.” Gabby’s hand shook as she tried to steer and clutch the cell phone at the same time. “I thought we had an understanding you would give me some warning when a bid was placed on the house.”

  “I’m sorry, Gabby. Really. It all happened so fast. He just moved to town, needed a house fast. That one was vacant and ready to move into.”

  “I see.” But she didn’t. Oh, her head understood the good fortune of the realty company, but her heart screamed at the betrayal.

  “I’m really sorry. Mr. McKay had cash for the asking price, so there was no delay in the processing. I didn’t have time to call you.”

  Mr. McKay? So he had bought her house.

  “He’s such a nice man.”

  A nice man? He’d done moved into her house. She knew she wasn’t exactly being fair—it’s not as if he’d known—but it was hard to remember to be reasonable.

  “Thanks, Margaret.” She snapped the phone shut, not wanting to hear any more apologies or platitudes.

  Gabby slammed the side of her fist against the steering wheel. What an awful thing to find out about Clark McKay. And just when she was starting to like him, too.

  Her breath caught. Starting to…She hadn’t really thought she was starting to like him, had she? Mercy. Maybe this news had come at just the right time. Liking Clark McKay was the last thing she wanted to do.

  “Good thing you didn’t drive it back on Friday night. The brake line was cut.”

  Clark stood in the garage, staring at Lou, hearing his words, but not wanting to accept them. “Someone deliberately cut my brake line?”

  “No question, Mr. McKay.” He held up the damaged part. “See here, it’s jagged and diagonal. Means somebody did it quick. From the part cut, looks like it was accessed by the tire well. You must not have had your tires straight, had to have been turned a little when you parked. Gave somebody easy access. Guess they figured if you didn’t heed that warning, they’d make sure you’d have no choice but to speed right on out of town.”

  Someone wanted to hurt him. “Have you told the sheriff?”

  “I did. He wants me to send this over to him as soon as possible.” Lou waved the cut line. “I’ll have Fred drop it by the station this evening.”

  Who would want to hurt him?

  “But the good news is, your car is fixed and ready to go, new paint job and all.”

  “Thanks, Lou. I really appreciate you getting right on this.” Who would do this to him? Why? “Here’s a question for you—how long ago do you think the line was cut? I mean, did it have to have just happened before I had the accident?”

  Lou punched in Clark’s invoice in the cash register. “Not necessarily. Depending how often you’ve driven it and how often you’ve used the brakes, it could’ve happened several days before the accident.”

  Someone could’ve done it before Howard’s murder. This could be not even slightly conn
ected to his owning KLUV. But who? Why?

  Then again, it could’ve happened since, which made more sense.

  Clark handed over his credit card and waited for Lou to complete the transaction. But his mind spun.

  Howard—once a part owner of the station, shot dead. Robert—previous owner of the station, knocked unconscious and left for dead, providing Clark didn’t believe he’d shot Howard. Now him, his car—new owner of the station, someone tampering with his brakes to cause him harm.

  Clark scrawled his name at the bottom of the charge slip. Three men, all owners or very previous owners of KLUV, all victims of senseless, violent attacks.

  He took his keys, turned over the rental’s and strode to his car.

  Who wanted KLUV owners out of the way? And what would they try next?

  Time to be proactive, not reactive.

  Gabby parked her SUV in KLUV’s parking lot and headed to the building she’d called her second home for years. Eric’s car still sat out front. She checked her watch again. He must be working late.

  The welcome blast of cool air slammed against her face as she entered the station. With sure steps muffled by the industrial-grade carpet, she headed to the studio. She stopped outside Eric’s office and peered inside the open door.

  He hunched over the computer keyboard, his fingers flying as the tap-tap-tapping filled the room, subdued only by the sounds of the station’s broadcast filtering through the speakers. She cleared her throat, and he jerked upright.

  “Is it that late already?” He jabbed his hand through his hair.

  “Yeah. I’m on in fifteen.” Gabby crossed the office to linger in front of his desk. “Whatcha doing?”

  Eric let out a long sigh. “Trying to figure out the financial status of the station for Mr. McKay. Remember, he asked some payroll questions.” He waved toward the computer.

  Just what she didn’t want to hear.

  It wasn’t that she didn’t care about the station’s finances—of course she wanted the station to do well—but the desire to uncover what was really happening at KLUV drove her harder. Truth be told, not knowing the truth nearly sucked the life right out of her.

  “I don’t believe Robert killed Howard.” Gabby perched on the edge of the desk. “I won’t believe that.”

  “Who else could it be?” Eric laced his fingers behind his head and leaned back in the chair. He suddenly appeared much older than his twenty-nine years. “Who would do this?”

  Gabby shrugged. “I don’t know, but I intend to find out.”

  His palms dropped to the desk with a thump as he sat straight. “You know, I heard you and Mr. McKay on the air, vowing to support Robert. Shouldn’t finding the truth be left to the police?”

  “Sure, if they’re willing to actually look. In this case, they aren’t.” Gabby swung her leg slowly. Back and forth.

  “Do you think that’s wise? I mean, making the commitment to look into things. If, as you say, Robert isn’t the murderer, then you might be putting yourself in the hot seat.”

  She hadn’t thought about that. “I’m just trying to figure out who had a beef with Robert and Howard.” She snapped her fingers. “You know, Amber said something about Martin Tankersly undercutting his advertising prices.”

  “Please. My stepfather’s a jerk, no doubt about it, but I don’t think he’d do something like this.” Eric shrugged. “He’s tried to get Howard to come to work for him over the years, but Howard never would. I can’t see Martin doing something so desperate now.”

  “You’re his family, right?”

  “Family?” He grunted. “You must be kidding. He hated me from the day he married my mother. After she died, he knocked me around quite a bit when I was growing up.” He steepled his hands over the desk, anger glimmering in his dark orbs. “Didn’t you wonder why I came to work at KLUV instead of going to work for him?”

  “I guess I never thought about it.” She should have. Eric working for his stepdad’s rival could only mean they’d had a falling out. A serious one. Would Mr. Tankersly be mad enough to exact revenge? But why Howard and not Robert? Why now? And how did someone tampering with Mr. McKay’s car fit into this?

  “He’s scum of the earth, I’ll attest to that. He’s got some serious anger issues. But why would he do something like this? Doesn’t make sense.”

  “Well, I think it bears looking into.” Gabby shifted to stand. “I’m going to look into every possibility.”

  “I understand where you’re coming from, Gabby, I do.” Eric shook his head, his eyes downcast. “But you might want to prepare yourself for the possibility that Robert is guilty.”

  “I won’t accept that.”

  “Think about it. We all knew how strongly Howard felt about the station. And he had another year on his contract. But then Robert decides to up and sell the station. To an outsider.”

  Gabby didn’t like the path Eric was on, but she had to admit that everything he said was true.

  “They were heard arguing about the sale.” Eric crossed his arms over his chest. “Maybe the argument went too far and Howard refused to let it go. Robert knew he’d already signed the papers with Mr. McKay. What else could he do but shut up Howard?”

  “I won’t believe that.” Gabby shoved away the creepy phantom spiders crawling up her spine and glanced at her watch. “Time for me to hit the airwaves.”

  “I’ll just be a little longer.” He frowned.

  Gabby nodded and turned toward the studio. She grabbed her call sheet and slipped inside just as David Gray, the evening deejay, signed off his segment. David patted her shoulder as he passed, obviously anxious to get home to his wife and kids. Gabby flashed him a smile before dropping into the leather chair.

  Settling into the studio, she queued up her microphone. “Good evening, Mystique, this is Gabby Rogillio. Call now and give me the dedications of your heart. I’m waiting to hear from you.”

  If only she could find a way to ease the burdens of her heart.

  NINE

  Clark tucked himself into the sports car and headed home. It’d been a long day, starting with the meeting with Gabby and KLUV’s station manager, and ending with Gabby and her friends. Tomorrow would be another long day.

  Spinning his car onto his street, Clark let out a tired sigh. The streetlights flickered as he crept along the residential area, the moon playing hide-and-seek behind the low-lying clouds. The sweet fragrance of magnolia blossoms and some other blooming flowers filled the air. On the radio, KLUV’s announcer had read the latest news.

  As he turned the car into the driveway, a sultry voice spilled from the speakers. Clark turned up the volume.

  “…so call me, Mystique, and give me the dedications of your heart. This is Gabby, and I’m waiting to hear from you.”

  A soft love ballad came over the airwaves, jarring Clark from his trance. He coasted the car into his garage. It took all of five steps to enter into the kitchen. Forgoing the television, Clark lifted the remote for the stereo and clicked it on, seeking for KLUV’s frequency. The same song filled the living room.

  He slumped onto his leather couch, welcoming the comfort. He didn’t bother to turn on a light. Closing his eyes, he waited until the last notes of the song faded out.

  “I have a special dedication for Rich, going out tonight from Allison. She wants you to know that she loves you with all her heart. Love is in the air tonight, Mystique. This is for you, Rich and Allison. Love well.” Gabby’s throaty voice drifted to a whisper as the opening chords of “Reunited” played.

  The vision of her face danced across his memory, tugging at his heart. What was the woman doing to him? Hadn’t he come to Mystique to hide, to regroup, to take control of his life again? And now some little Southern belle had his emotions wound up tighter than a spring, even more than the media killer he’d escaped.

  He crossed the room to the kitchen, jerked open the refrigerator and pulled out a soft drink. The cold liquid quenched his thirst, but not his desire to
see Gabby, talk to her, hear her voice all to himself. Clark set the bottle on the counter with a thump, then stomped back into the living room.

  “…that’s right, call me. Tell me what’s in your heart tonight. I’m waiting to listen.”

  Man, but the woman’s voice did strange things to him. Made his knees feel like Jell-O.

  Father God, what’s happening to me?

  When he opened his eyes, that’s when he noticed the broken patio door.

  His heart jumped into his throat. He lifted his cell phone and dialed the sheriff’s number, walking through the house as he did. Finding nothing amiss on the bottom floor, he headed for the stairs.

  The dispatcher answered the phone, then put him on hold for McGruder.

  He opened the door to his bedroom and froze.

  Someone had trashed his bedroom.

  Less than thirty minutes later, Sheriff McGruder spoke to his deputies, then returned to the living room and faced Clark. “They’re dusting for prints now. Did you notice if anything was missing?”

  “In that mess? I couldn’t tell.” Why would someone break into his home and trash his bedroom, of all places? “My computer and stereo equipment are all downstairs and they weren’t taken.”

  The sheriff harrumphed and wrote more in his notebook. “You know, Mr. McKay, I have to wonder.”

  “What?”

  “With your cut brake line and now this…well, I’m wondering if someone’s got something personal against you.”

  You think? Clark cleared his throat, determined not to let the lawman get a rise out of him. “I would assume so, Sheriff.”

  “Seems strange that these things happened right after you bought KLUV.”

  “Yes, it does.”

  “Any ideas about the correlation?”

  Clark couldn’t stop the retort burning his tongue. “If I had an idea about that, don’t you think I’d say something to you? I really don’t like my life being in danger, nor my house being trashed.”

  “Mmm-hmm.” McGruder shut his notebook and shoved it into his pocket. “I’ll file my report. The guys should be finished here in a few minutes. If you notice anything missing when you start cleaning up, let me know and I’ll add it to my report.”