Point of Danger

by Irene Hannon

  Al

  Fri., Aug. 24, 10:57 p.m.

  Yes.

  Dan

  Fri., Aug. 24, 10:58 p.m.

  I’ll be back n touch with further direction. Stand by.

  4

  THAT’S A WRAP, EVE. Great show.”

  As Ryan’s voice came over her headset, Eve gave the technician behind the large window that separated the studio from the sound booth a thumbs-up. “Thanks. I’ll be out of here in thirty seconds.”

  “No hurry. Joe went to get a cup of coffee, and the eight o’clock news break is just starting to roll.”

  “I’m ready to call it a morning anyway.” She removed the headset, slipped her notes and background material into a tote bag, and stretched her back before exiting the studio.

  Doug was waiting for her in the hall. “Busy morning. Ryan said the phones were ringing off the hook.”

  “Did you catch the whole program?”

  “Yeah. I think it was smart to tackle the bomb threat up front and open the show to discussion.”

  “No sense ignoring the elephant in the room. What did you think of the comments?”

  “Your supporters were out in force—a bunch of them pretty worked up.”

  “I know. What surprised me more were the calls from a few of my regular critics offering their support. I know the police think one of them could have left the bomb, but I’m sticking with my conviction that they’re more words than action.”

  “Speaking of the police, I spoke with your detective twice over the weekend. They already have a court order for a phone trap on your call line, and Ryan tagged the regular callers for him this morning. He also wants to come by as soon as Meg can pull together a file of negative correspondence.”

  As if on cue, the door at the end of the corridor opened and the station’s newest administrative assistant hurried down the hall.

  Eve lifted a hand in greeting as she approached. “Were your ears burning?”

  “You were talking about me?” She joined them.

  “All positive comments.”

  “I have to deal with several urgent emails.” Doug took a swig of coffee. “Meg, let’s talk once you’re settled in for the day.”

  “Sure. I’ll be there in five.”

  As the program director continued down the hall toward his office, Meg touched her arm. “Are you okay?”

  “Fine.”

  “Any news from the police on possible suspects?”

  “No. I haven’t talked to the detective since Friday night. I’m assuming there’s nothing to report. But he’s planning to come in and review the negative correspondence I’ve gotten recently. Doug’s going to ask you to pull the latest nastygrams.”

  “I’ll give it top priority. You heading out now?”

  “Yes.” She waved at Joe as he passed on his way to the studio for his two-hour show to finish out the drive-time programming. “I have a blog post to write and a talk to prepare for an upcoming event. I also want to get in a spinning class today.”

  Meg sighed. “I admire your dedication to exercise. I wish I could fit in workouts too. I think I put on three pounds at Bob Evans on Saturday.”

  “I thought you were dieting.”

  “I’m trying.” Meg fiddled with the strap of her shoulder purse and shifted her weight. “But Steve was in the mood for a splurge, and he doesn’t like to indulge alone.”

  No, he wouldn’t.

  She’d only met Meg’s husband on a couple of occasions—including the station’s annual barbecue in July—but he didn’t strike her as the flexible type. More like the kind of guy who would put himself first.

  In other words, the polar opposite of the detective who’d spent most of Friday evening in her neighborhood, making her feel like her welfare mattered to him. Could just be part of Brent Lange’s professional persona—but it felt like more than that. Some people were caring by nature.

  From her few brief encounters with Meg’s husband, he didn’t seem to be one of them.

  “Maybe you can mitigate the splurge this week with diet lunches.”

  Meg hefted the small insulated carrier in her hand. “Salads are on the menu every day.”

  “That will help—and if you ever want to dip your toes into spinning, I’d be glad to schedule an evening session and introduce you to it. The workout is amazing.”

  “I’d like that . . . but I try to keep my evenings free for Steve. Other than Wednesdays, when he bowls and I go to a Bible study class.”

  “Would a Saturday morning work?”

  Meg chewed on her lip. “We like to stick close together on the weekends.” She summoned up a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “We’re still kind of newlyweds.”

  “Doesn’t he have any other outside activities besides bowling?”

  “No. He’s active on his job, so he’s happy to chill out in the evenings with TV.”

  And Meg couldn’t go to the gym with her while her husband watched TV because . . . ?

  But Eve let it pass.

  Sowing seeds of discontent in a young marriage wasn’t wise—even if she was picking up an undercurrent of negative vibes.

  “Well, the offer stands if you ever change your mind. I’ll see you on Wednesday.”

  “I’ll be here. And Eve . . .” She touched her arm again. “I know I’ve said this already, but thank you again for whatever influence you exerted to help me get this job. It’s been a godsend.”

  “It was my pleasure. I remember how conscientious you were in high school, and I knew you’d be a perfect fit here. I’m glad it worked out.”

  “Me too.” She motioned down the hall. “I should get with Doug to talk about pulling your correspondence. I’ll think about that spinning class.”

  “Anytime.” Eve hoisted her tote bag and watched the other woman walk away.

  Strange that the two of them had reconnected at this stage of their life. While they’d never been close in high school, it had been hard not to feel a bit sorry for the slightly overweight, shy teen with the nerdy glasses and lank hair. Pulling her into an occasional lunch back then had been a no-brainer.

  And recommending her to Doug hadn’t required a second thought.

  Meg Lassiter—Jackson now—was one of those gentle souls who’d always seemed in need of TLC.

  And unfortunately, despite the attention Meg claimed her husband lavished on her, Eve would be willing to bet she wasn’t getting much tender loving care from the man she’d married.

  She was waiting for him, as usual, at the bar.

  Spirits lifting, Doug stopped inside the door of the popular downtown restaurant and adjusted the knot in the tie he always wore on Mondays.

  The day he met Carolyn for lunch.

  A niggle of guilt nipped at his conscience, and he frowned. That was ridiculous. There was no reason to feel guilty. This was a professional lunch between a mentor and a mentee. Nothing more. Yes, he’d been flattered after she’d sought out his advice eight months ago after they met at a journalism dinner event, but there was nothing personal about their get-togethers. They always talked about work.

  He might like the warmth in her eyes . . . and her habit of resting her fingers on his hand when she made a point . . . and how her gaze never strayed while they talked, as if he was the most important person in the world—but he was a happily married man, and she was twenty years his junior.

  Yeah, but she makes you feel young and hot again—and you like it. Too much.

  Okay.

  That was true.

  But what guy wouldn’t be flattered by a pretty face who wanted to talk to him about more than bills and leaky roofs and college woes and in-law problems?

  He blew out a breath and smoothed down his tie. Those were the only kinds of topics he and Alison ever discussed anymore. He couldn’t even recall the last time he’d felt the tiniest zing of romance between the two of them.

  But every Monday at eleven-thirty, Carolyn reminded him of what he was missing.


  And if their innocent lunches gave him a lift—what was the harm in that?

  She caught sight of him and raised a hand in greeting, her welcoming smile drawing him forward.

  He wove through the bar toward her, tamping down another wave of guilt. His lunches with Carolyn were totally aboveboard and 100 percent business.

  Except you enjoy them too much . . . and you’re flirting with danger . . . and you’re being unfair to Alison.

  Fine.

  That was all true.

  And while nothing untoward had happened yet, if this kept up . . . if Carolyn ever gave him the slightest indication she was interested in taking their relationship to a different level . . . the urge to cave would be strong.

  He should put an end to these meetings, remove the temptation.

  And he would.

  Soon.

  But not today.

  “I was beginning to think you’d stood me up.” Carolyn slid off the stool as he joined her.

  “Sorry. It was crazy at the station this morning.”

  “I’ll bet, after that fake bomb stunt.”

  “I saw your article about it in Saturday’s paper. First-class reporting.”

  “Thanks. I’m continuing to follow the story, but my sources at the PD say there’s nothing new.”

  “That’s what Eve told me too.” He motioned toward the dining room. “Shall we claim our table?”

  “By all means. I’m starving.”

  She preceded him to their usual spot, plucked up her napkin, and draped it over her lap. “How’s Eve holding up?”

  “The woman is a rock. In her shoes, I’d be seriously spooked. Are you having the usual?”

  She gave a low, throaty laugh that juiced his libido. “You know me too well.”

  “Your lunch preferences, in any case.” He swallowed, gave the order to the waiter, and handed the man the menus.

  “I assume the police think the bomb person is a disgruntled listener.”

  “They’re not saying much, but that would be my guess. The detective’s going to come by to review all the negative social media communication Eve gets. They also put a trap on our incoming phone line for the show.”

  “And she’s not worried?”

  “If she is, she’s doing a masterful job covering it.”

  “You have to admire her guts—even if she could be taking a big chance. There’s a surplus of nuts out there these days. I’m not sure it’s worth putting your life at risk for a show.”

  “What would you do in her place?”

  She gave him a rueful look. “I wish I had that problem.”

  “Your day will come.” Carolyn hadn’t been coy about the fact that her long-term plans included developing an on-air radio personality. It was why she’d sought him out. But as he’d told her—and she understood—those kinds of opportunities were few and far between. The number of slots in a twenty-four-hour schedule was limited.

  “I’m beginning to wonder about that.”

  “My advice hasn’t changed. Keep plugging away with your podcast, build your audience—and when an opening comes along, you’ll be ready. That’s how Eve broke through.”

  “I know. I’ve studied her success. It’s inspiring. But back to this bomb situation. Is she taking any special precautions?”

  “Not that I know of, although I expect she’s watching her back.”

  “Are you worried about her?” Carolyn picked up a breadstick and twirled it in her fingers. “I mean, what if something happens to her? Are you going to feel any sense of responsibility? It would be terrible to have to live with that kind of guilt.”

  Yeah, he knew all about guilt. He was feeling a ton of it just sitting here enjoying the company of an articulate, vivacious, attractive woman who wasn’t his wife.

  But guilt over Eve?

  That wasn’t a concern he’d considered.

  “To be honest, I haven’t given that much thought. I’m hoping the police find the perpetrator and put this to bed.”

  “I hear you.” She pulled a folder out of the small portfolio she always brought to their lunches. “I wanted to show you the topics I’m thinking about introducing on my podcast, get your take. I think they may attract a bigger audience.”

  “Sure. Let’s take a look.”

  During the remainder of their lunch, he focused on their programming discussion—and tried to ignore the faint, alluring scent that clung to Carolyn’s hair and drifted his direction whenever she turned her head.

  By the time their separate checks came—another attempt to ensure these lunches remained aboveboard—he was running late for his early afternoon meeting.

  But breaking away was hard. Carolyn was in no hurry to leave either . . . and a whole week stretched ahead of him until he saw her again.

  Yet another sign he was teetering on the edge of danger with this woman.

  And risking a twenty-two-year marriage had never been in his plans.

  He loved Alison.

  He did.

  So he wasn’t about to make a stupid mistake he’d regret to his dying day thanks to a midlife crisis.

  Taking Carolyn’s arm, he guided her through the lunch crowd, toward the door.

  “If you ever have an open slot at the station, you know I’m waiting in the wings.” Carolyn paused at the exit to toss out her usual parting comment—no less than he’d expect from an ambitious twenty-eight-year-old.

  “You’re on my list.”

  “Near the top, I hope.” She rested her fingers on his arm and smiled.

  “Very.”

  “Good to know.” She removed her hand. “I’ll be following the bomb scare story until it’s resolved. If you get any inside information, I hope you’ll think of your favorite reporter.”

  “Naturally.”

  Grinning, she wiggled her fingers and sauntered down the street toward her car.

  Once she disappeared in the crowd, he turned the other direction and picked up his pace back to the station.

  A two-hour meeting with the sales folks about ad revenues wasn’t going to be the highlight of his day—but if that detective stopped by to go over the material Meg was compiling, he’d have an excuse to duck out.

  His cell began to vibrate, and he pulled it out.

  Alison.

  His conscience pricked again.

  The impulse to ignore the call was strong—but he forced himself to answer. “Hi, hon.”

  “Hi.” She sounded frazzled . . . as usual these days. “Am I interrupting anything?”

  “I’m getting ready to go into a meeting, but I have a minute.”

  “I won’t keep you. Your mom called. She seems lonely. If you have a spare half hour, you may want to swing by after work tonight. I think she could use a lift.”

  Couldn’t they all.

  But stopping at the assisted living facility where his parents had lived for the past three months wouldn’t give his spirits a boost. The place was downright depressing.

  “I’ll see what I can do.”

  “Bree called too. She’s got more roommate issues.”

  “That’s what comes from having a room to herself at home all these years. She’s been on campus what? Ten days?” He stopped at the corner to wait for the light to change. “She needs to give this other girl a chance, learn to accommodate.”

  “I told her that. You may want to call her and reinforce my message.”

  “I’ll touch base with her later this afternoon. Anything else?” A hint of impatience crept into his tone, but he didn’t attempt to mask it. After the past, pleasant hour, he wasn’t yet ready to dive back into the reality of his life.

  “No. I’ll see you tonight.”

  The light changed, and the crowd surged across the street. “I’ll let you know my ETA.” He shoved the phone back in his pocket.

  Calls like this were why he enjoyed his one-hour escape each week with Carolyn.

  And why it was so difficult to give up that pleasant reprieve from real life
. . . despite the danger.

  “Knock knock. Anyone home?”

  At the question, Eve jerked around in the chair she’d claimed on her small deck and grabbed her teetering laptop.

  Olivia sent her an apologetic look and continued across the lawn, a covered plate in her hands. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. I should have called out sooner, given all the excitement we had on Friday.”

  Eve stood and met the woman at the edge of the deck, reaching down to take the plate. “Don’t worry about it. I was deep in thought, trying to come up with ideas for the speech I’m giving on Saturday. It’s been kind of hard to concentrate. Come on up.”

  The older woman joined her on the deck and took the chair she indicated. “I can certainly understand why you’d be distracted. A bomb scare, of all things! Here in our quiet little neighborhood.” She shook her head. “What’s the world coming to?”

  “A question I think about every day.”

  “I know—and it’s not a pleasant topic. I hoped my brownies would sweeten your afternoon.”

  “Guaranteed. Will you share? I could pour you a cup of coffee.”

  “No, those are all yours. I kept a few for myself at the house, though—not that I need the calories.” She patted her trim waist.

  “I don’t think you have to worry.” Eve pulled one of the rich squares from beneath the plastic wrap. “And I for one could use a helping of comfort food today. I’ll work off the calories later at my spinning class.”

  “Having an outlet for stress is smart.”

  “More now than ever.” She took a bite of the brownie, letting the chocolate dissolve on her tongue.

  “I listened in on your show this morning. I thought you handled the whole matter with aplomb.”

  Eve’s throat tightened.

  While Olivia was a new friend in her life, the older woman had gone out of her way to welcome her to the neighborhood. And since she’d confessed early on that she didn’t have a political bone in her body and hated controversy, her neighbor’s effort to listen to the program was touching.

  “I appreciate the encouragement—and also that you tuned in. I know my program isn’t your thing.”

  “I worry about you, my dear.” She patted her hand. “Has there been any news from the police? I hate to think the crazy person who left that fake bomb is still on the loose.”