“You gave her the byline when you brought the key details to this piece of speculative fiction?”
“No! Pam had her own source at CPD. I only gave her the lead! She went after it and wrote the story.” Caroline was perfectly willing to accept his anger for her part in this, but she was not going to have him take it out on Pam. “Considering that I am the publisher, I didn’t want to set a precedent by writing the story myself.”
“Maybe you should have thought about that before you gave a story to an inexperienced journalist!”
“Damn it, Frank! Have you even bothered reading her résumé? She’s got plenty of experience and she’s damned good! You haven’t even given her a chance! She’s been waiting two years to move into the newsroom! Even my mother hoped you’d make room for her, but you apparently are such a control freak that even Flo was afraid to step on your toes!”
He came forward and tapped his index finger so hard on the offending paper that Caroline thought he would break his finger. “This is stenographic journalism at its worst! You’re going to take heat for this one—no, correction! We are going to take heat for this one! The Post will hang us with this! We are holding on by the skin of our teeth here, and the only reason we haven’t gone belly-up is because people respect us. We’ve still got a little cachet in this city, but not if we’re going to run cowpats like this!”
“This story’s no different from a thousand I have read!”
“That’s the point, Caroline. We’re better than that! This is ‘he said, she said’ bullshit! If you’re going to run a story like this, you need to roll up your sleeves and do some real investigative journalism! Identify your sources, stand by them.” He shook his head. “As for your mother . . . she would roll in her grave if she knew what you’d done!”
That was the one thing Caroline couldn’t bear to hear.
Caroline dug in her heels, defending her position. “We did go after this story. We spoke to the best friend, we corroborated details. I felt it was our responsibility to inform the public of what I’d learned. Don’t you think people have a right to make decisions about their lives with all the information available?”
“Goddamn it!” he exploded. “It’s not our responsibility to warn the public, Caroline—it’s our responsibility to report news responsibly! I would never have sent this story to the desk. If you want to run this newspaper like a fish rag, you can do it by yourself!”
He stormed out of her office suddenly, slamming the door and shouting obscenities that no office should ever have to hear.
Caroline turned her attention to Pam. “Sorry about that.”
“He’s so angry,” Pam said, standing as she stated the obvious.
Caroline was angry too, but not for the same reasons. “He’ll get over it.”
Pam looked ashamed, despite Caroline’s defense of her, which only made Caroline feel worse. “I’ve honestly never seen him like that.”
Caroline felt suddenly confused. She’d reacted in anger and fear. Had she abused the power her position afforded her? “You can go,” she said.
The moment Pam walked out of her office, Caroline’s office phone rang again—probably Jack for the hundredth time. After his first message, she didn’t really care to talk to him. He was angry, too. He felt betrayed. She understood that, and she had braced herself for his anger, believing she was doing the right thing—but suddenly she was no longer quite so sure. The vehemence with which everyone seemed to be reacting to this story took her by surprise. She truly thought she was doing the right thing. Contrary to what some might think, it wasn’t about selling papers. It was about doing something that mattered, and arming a community—her community—to deal with what was to come.
She had sacrificed Jack for her sense of duty. There was no way she would have betrayed him for less than moral decency.
Again the phone rang, and she stared at it, tentatively picking up the receiver. She was grateful to hear Josh’s voice on the other end. “Caroline?”
“Jesus! Thank God it’s you!”
“Taking heat?”
“You wouldn’t believe how much!”
There was a moment of silence on the other end of the phone. “I can’t say I’m on your side. I actually called to ask where you left your head.”
Caroline sat in her chair, feeling utterly defeated. “Not you, too!” “Damn it, Caroline . . . your sources are two anonymous investigators—you didn’t even name them as CPD. You could have at least specified neither was with the county solicitor’s office. They could point the finger at me!”
Caroline leaned her head into her hand, a bad feeling settling in her stomach. She had reacted. She had made a decision in the heat of the moment. She wasn’t prepared for this. When her mother had drawn up the will, surely she hadn’t expected Caroline to assume this role so soon. Maybe Caroline had made a mistake? And, worse, she had dragged Pam into it.
Josh’s tone, at least, was gentle, even if his words made her feel sick. “I’m already taking shit over it. You have to reveal your sources,” he pressed.
Caroline’s gut twisted. “I can’t, Josh.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
“Won’t. But I will assure you that both my sources are one hundred percent reliable.”
“Jesus, you come home for one month and you’ve already done more damage to my politics than I could have with all my pot-smoking college days.”
“You didn’t smoke pot in college,” Caroline reminded him, her voice hollow.
“You know what I’m sayin’, Caroline. If you don’t reveal your source, they could assume it’s me. I’m the closest to you. You have to make this right.”
If she revealed either of her sources, both of them could lose their badges, and Pam had promised her source anonymity. It wouldn’t be right to reveal one and not the other. God, it seemed she had made a mess of everything. “I can’t, Josh!”
There was a long pause on the other end of the phone. “All right, well . . . I’ve gotta go.”
“Are you mad?”
“Not mad. Disappointed. See you tonight.”
He hung up, and Caroline held the phone in her hand for the longest time, knowing the instant there was a dial tone, it would only ring again.
How could something she had intended for good turn out to be so very wrong?
The instant Caroline hit the street, blue lights flashed in her rearview mirror.
Dismayed after the day she’d had, she tried to determine what traffic sin she had committed in the fifty or so yards since leaving the garage. A few hard glances channeled her anxiety into anger.
It was Jack.
Navigating her way through rush-hour traffic, she pulled over as soon as she could, but not before finding a decent spot, unwilling to delay others simply because Jack was angry with her. The instant she pulled over, Jack pulled his unmarked car up alongside her, parking at an angle in front of her as though to prevent her from leaving. Nor did he bother turning off his blue lights as he got out of the car.
Jackass.
He was at her door by the time she rolled down the window, his jaw set with a fury that must have escalated with every ignored phone call during the course of the day. At last count, there had been thirteen. She tried to keep the anger from her tone. “Do you mind telling me why you’ve pulled me over?”
His tone was cold and hard. “License, please.”
Caroline rolled her eyes. “You’ve got to be kidding!”
If his eyes had been daggers, she realized she would be a dead woman sitting behind the wheel of her car. “License!” he demanded.
“Okay, so now what . . . you’ve been demoted to traffic cop?” Caroline was exasperated, but she complied, taking her license out of her purse and handing it over.
“That’s a distinct possibility,” he told her, snatching the license from her hand. “Do you understand what you’ve done, Caroline?”
Now it began.
This was precisely what Caroline had b
een trying to avoid all day. “Yes, Jack, I know what I’ve done. I’ve alerted the public to look after themselves since you guys don’t seem to be up to the job.” It was unfair to say, she realized, but she didn’t appreciate his attitude.
A muscle at his jaw twitched. “Is that right?”
“Yes, for God’s sake! We have a missing child and a mother who’s traumatized. We have at least one dead body and reason to suspect there will be more—yes, I do believe that’s what I’m doing!” Maybe she hadn’t gone about it right, but she was trying to help.
Something in his gaze softened. “You took advantage of your position,” he countered. “Jesus, Caroline, you put words in my mouth!”
“I’d say you were taking advantage of yours!” Caroline waved a hand in protest over his traffic stop. “What the hell is this?”
“I guess we’re even.”
“No, we aren’t!” Caroline exclaimed. “You still have one hell of a lot to make up for if you were so inclined!”
“Is that what this is about?” His blue eyes glittered with renewed fury. “Because you believe I fucked your best friend ten years ago?”
“God, no!” That he would reduce all this to that was intolerable. Caroline was trying desperately to do the right thing, and while she was still angry about that long-ago betrayal, that was not what this was about. This was about one dead girl and a missing child and lives that might soon be damaged forever.
“I don’t believe you,” he said. “I think that’s exactly what this is about—tit for tat!”
“Really, Jack? You think I would publish a story that affected the lives of thousands just to get back at you? I got over our bullshit years ago,” she lied. “This isn’t about us!” At least part of it was true. Caroline would never stoop to revenge and she would never, ever, toy with the lives of others. Her sense of responsibility was too great. She was an oldest child, driven to take care of her sisters, driven to take care of everything and anybody whose lives might be impacted by her decisions.
“Like I said, I don’t believe you. I think you’re still angry and you might as well admit it.”
Caroline felt heat infuse her face.
She wasn’t about to admit a damned thing!
His car sat smack in the middle of traffic and one look in the rearview mirror revealed annoyed expressions on the faces of passing drivers. “Is this the place and time for this discussion?” She smacked her steering wheel with the butt of her hand, losing her temper, losing her mind. “We’re in rush-hour traffic, for God’s sake!” She couldn’t deal with this. Her entire day had gone to shit and ninety-nine percent of it was her own damned fault.
Jack’s expression was unrepentant. He looked down at her driver’s license. “I don’t give a shit where we are. How long have you been in Charleston now?”
Caroline blinked, feeling a little like a deer caught in headlights. Too many things were happening all at once. “You know how long I’ve been here, Jack. Stop it!”
He studied her Texas driver’s license, turning it over; his previous anger appeared to have melted from his features. “Do you intend to remain a permanent resident of the State of South Carolina?”
Caroline simply looked at him, suddenly understanding the direction he was going with this line of questioning.
“Do you?” he persisted.
She resented having to answer. “Reluctantly.”
He held out her license. “You have forty-five days from the time of residency to transfer your registration,” he said in his most authoritative tone, “ninety days to obtain a new license and surrender your old license to the State of South Carolina.”
Caroline gritted her teeth. “Thank you so much for that info. Now do you mind telling me why you pulled me over in the first place?”
“Out-of-state plates,” he stated—unlike Caroline, his voice was now completely devoid of emotion. “It’s our responsibility to check the status of driver insurance and vehicle plate information, but as you know, there has also been a homicide in the area and it’s also my duty to stop suspicious nonnative vehicles.”
Caroline felt a pulse tic at her temple. “You are still an ass!”
His gaze met hers and whatever emotion he had managed to keep out of his tone was visible right there in the depths of his sapphire blue eyes. “And you’re still a spoiled little rich girl who can’t quite fill her mommy’s shoes and doesn’t know any better than to stop trying!”
He knew exactly what to say to hurt her.
Caroline gripped the steering wheel, forcing a breath through her lungs. She turned away, tears pricking her eyes, hiding the telltale burn. “Is that what you think of me?”
He didn’t hesitate before answering. “Have you known me to ever say things I don’t mean?”
Caroline narrowed her eyes accusingly. “I can think of at least three words!” At this point, drivers were no longer quite so annoyed by the police car blocking traffic. She imagined them all with bags of popcorn in hand, looking on with interest as cop and offender argued like lovers. Even Pam drove slowly by, craning her neck to see what was going on. Caroline was mortified. She pretended not to see her. “Are we done here? I see things much more clearly now.”
“No. You don’t. Your head’s still crammed too far up your mother’s ass to grasp the big picture here! For better or worse, you haven’t just betrayed my trust. I told you that shit because I love you more than I do my fucking badge! But never mind that! You haven’t just risked my life’s work over a half-baked story; you’ve scared the shit out of these people. Do you understand that, Caroline?”
Caroline blinked, her brain zeroing in on three little words. “There is a killer out there,” she said without quite the same resolve. “I believe people have a right to know to look over their shoulders!”
“You can be damned sure they will, because you’ve just set the mood for this entire city. Next time you sit in your mother’s chair, remember that! You’re not just a reporter. Mommy can’t fix your mistakes. Everything you do and say makes an impact now! That’s something your mother understood clearly and apparently you do not!”
Caroline’s head began to ache.
So did her heart.
She couldn’t even counter him, because deep down, she was coming to the realization that maybe she had truly made a career-shaking mistake. And the question wasn’t whether she would survive it, but would the paper survive it.
Would she and Jack survive it?
Probably not.
“I have news for you,” he said, adding insult to injury. “You’ve got a long way to go before you fill your mother’s shoes. I don’t care if she was Mommy Dearest behind closed doors. Out here, she did the right thing. Always.” He dropped the license back inside the window. “Drive safely,” he concluded and walked away, leaving Caroline’s head hammering. There was an even bigger ache in the region of her heart, but she couldn’t afford to focus on that right now.
She had to fix this awful mess.
Chapter Twelve
Jack slid into his car, turned off his blue lights and pulled into a mob of rush-hour traffic. Like lemmings charging to a precipice, people would follow wherever the media led them. That, he told himself, was the true source of his anger—that, and not the fact that he had trusted Caroline and she had betrayed his trust too easily.
The truth was that he was angrier with himself than he could ever be with her. He should have told her nothing. Fortunately, he hadn’t revealed anything that might endanger the case.
For Christ’s sake, he’d admitted to Caroline that he loved her.
Hopefully that little bit of info had gone right over her head, although judging by the disoriented look in her eyes after he’d said it, he didn’t think she’d missed a single word. For better or worse, he’d said too much already.
The ball was in her court.
Somewhere out there Caroline thought her mother must be enjoying the show. Point made! No more stone throwing from her quarter
. Everyone was human. Everyone made mistakes. And Caroline seemed to be making way more than her share. But apparently, her bad day wasn’t nearly over.
She pulled into the driveway to find a young blond woman in police uniform seated on the back end of an old red Jeep Cherokee. Caroline parked behind her, concerned that something might be wrong. From the minute she had come back to Charleston, it seemed there had been one drama after another. She bolted out of the car, shoving the door closed. “Can I help you?”
“Not really,” the woman said calmly, looking Caroline over as she approached. “I just came to get a few things off my chest.”
And an ample one it was, Caroline couldn’t help but notice. She extended her hand. “I’m Caroline Aldridge.”
The woman didn’t bother to uncross her arms and all that was missing to complete her belligerent attitude was a wad of chewing gum in her mouth. “I know who you are.”
There wasn’t much patience left after the ordeal with Jack, but Caroline waited for her to speak—something the woman didn’t seem inclined to do until she was good and ready. “How’s the back window ?” she asked.
Confused, Caroline’s brows collided. “You’re here about the break-in?”
“No,” she said. “Though I hope you got it fixed. Apparently, there’s a serial killer on the loose . . . have you heard?”
Annoyance ripped through Caroline. “I told Chief Condon my sources are confidential. I won’t reveal them. I don’t have anything more to say!”
The woman looked Caroline up and down, sizing her up, eyes smoldering with what Caroline interpreted as anger. “I’m not here to find out who leaked that info. I already know who leaked it and so does every other cop on the force. The only reason he hasn’t been suspended at this point is because no one wants to see a good guy get a bum rap, but I can tell you this . . . showing up at his ex-girlfriend’s house over a broken window with half the police force didn’t help his cause any. But, like I said, I’m not here about the break-in. I’m off duty.”
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