I took a deep breath and leaned back into the throw pillows, not sure enough to stay so close to him.
“Was it you the first time, too?” Focusing on business seemed like a good bet, and I had a flash of what seemed like a long-ago conversation with Agent Starnes that made me wonder. “The boating accident? You set the FBI on him then, too, didn’t you?”
“Nothing gets by you, does it?”
“I wish some things did,” I said, more to myself than to him, but he heard me anyway.
“Me, too.” It was little more than a whisper.
“Thanks for taking the dog,” I said, out of questions and beginning to fidget. “I should go say hi to her.”
“Seemed like the least I could do.” He stood up. “Goodnight, Miss Clarke.”
“Goodbye, Joey.”
He nodded, staring at me with an unfamiliar sadness. “I can’t say I blame you. But I can be persistent.” His lips turned up slightly. “And I’m not sure I’m ready to give up.”
“I’m stubborn.” I couldn’t help smiling back.
“So am I.” He disappeared into the night.
I got out of bed on Sunday only for coffee or food. Monday, I walked into the staff meeting to white chocolate chip banana bread and a lecture from Eunice about being more careful. From Bob, who was back for half-days because he was just that stubborn, I got a bear hug.
I stayed put when everyone filed out. Eunice paused to hug me, squeezing so long I smelled like patchouli the rest of the day. When she was gone, too, I tucked a wayward lock of hair behind my ear and smiled at Bob and Parker.
“Nice to be missed,” I said.
“We’re just glad you’re okay,” Parker said. “I would have come to help you if you’d called, you know. I wouldn’t have even asked for a byline.”
Bob cleared his throat with way too much fanfare and shot me a pointed stare.
“Hey Parker, about that,” I said. “I owe you an apology. I was up to my ears in crooked cops and dead people and I found this old picture of you online and I sort of thought you might be in on it. A little.” I held my thumb and forefinger a half-inch apart.
“In on what? Murder and theft with your crooked cops?” He shook his head and laughed. “I’d love to know what the hell kind of photo you found that made you think that.”
He snatched it out of my hand before I got it all the way out of my bag, and laughed harder as he explained that he didn’t even know Lowe.
“Someone told me that.” I shot a glance at Bob and smiled at Parker. “Sorry I thought you were a murderer.”
He grinned. “Glad you didn’t get yourself killed.”
“And what a story!” Bob leaned back in his chair. “Ad revenue hasn’t been so high since Clinton was in office, and our page count has gone up 25 percent. Les even shuffled in here with a half-assed apology this morning. And every TV personality from Charlie Lewis to Anderson Cooper is quoting your story five times a day. This is great.”
And it was. The only part of the RPD scandal’s aftermath I didn’t care for was the instant celebrity. I’d arrived at work to messages from reporters as far away as Los Angeles requesting interviews.
In the middle of the media storm, Kyle called to offer me an exclusive with the ATF in exchange for some company at dinner.
“How could I turn down a real-life hero?” I asked. “I heard from a little birdie on the TV that you’re some sort of supercop.”
“I don’t know about that.” The years had done nothing to his laugh. “But I do all right.”
I gave him my address and told him to be ready to spill everything at seven-thirty.
Aaron and Mike were back at the PD and said they had a long story for me when I had time for it. All was right with my world again.
Bob just nodded when I told him about my date with Kyle.
“Promising,” he said. “And if anything breaks tonight, Shelby can cover for you.”
I shot him a glare that would’ve scared anyone else. “Not amusing.”
He laughed. “I thought it was.”
“Yeah, Clarke,” Parker chimed in from the doorway. “We’re all one big helpful family around here: cheapskate uncles, backstabbing cousins and all.”
Funny for Parker to put into words how I’d always thought of the staff as my family.
“And friends?” I smiled.
“Friends.” He winked. “I meant to tell you before, thanks for that email about my column. Not bad for a murdering drug pusher?”
“Not bad at all.” I grinned. “For a jock.”
Turning back toward my desk, I smiled at the bustle of the newsroom, not even a little sad that my call from the Post hadn’t come.
I had a job. I had friends. I had great shoes. And I had a home. There might be mobsters in my living room or coffins in random driveways, but life was rarely boring. And every beep of my scanner promised a new adventure.
Reader’s Discussion Guide
Have you ever discovered something unexpected in the course of your job? What happened?
Was there anyone on Nichelle’s suspect list you were sure was innocent? Who and why?
Have you ever worked with anyone like Shelby? Did you dislike her, or feel sorry for her?
Which of the male characters made a strong romantic fit for Nichelle? Why?
Though her heels prove to be less than practical a few times, Nichelle has a utilitarian side, too. What elements in the story showed it?
Have you ever had a group of friends or coworkers who felt like a family to you?
Have you ever wanted something for so long you began to want it out of habit? Do you see that in Nichelle?
What are the differences between Charlie and Shelby? Which of them did you have more respect for?
Have you ever had a boss who could make your week with a compliment? What was the best one s/he ever gave you and how long ago was it?
About LynDee Walker
LynDee Walker grew up in the land of stifling heat and amazing food most people call Texas, and wanted to be Lois Lane from the time she could say the words “press conference.” An award-winning journalist, she traded cops and deadlines for burp cloths and onesies when her oldest child was born. Writing the Headlines in Heels mysteries gives her the best of both worlds. When not writing or reading, LynDee is usually wrangling children, eating barbecue or enchiladas, or trying to walk off said barbecue and enchiladas. She and her family live in Richmond, Virginia.
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As director of the Ballantyne Foundation on Sea Pine Island, SC, Elliott Lisbon scratches her detective itch by performing discreet inquiries for Foundation donors. Usually nothing more serious than retrieving a pilfered Pomeranian. Until Jane Hatting, Ballantyne board chair, is accused of murder. The Ballantyne’s reputation tanks, Jane’s headed to a jail cell, and Elliott’s sexy ex is the new lieutenant in town.
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Davis Way thinks she’s hit the jackpot when she lands a job as the fifth wheel on an elite security team at the fabulous Bellissimo Resort and Casino in Biloxi, Mississippi. But once there, she runs straight into her ex-ex husband, a rigged slot machine, her evil twin, and a trail of dead bodies. Davis learns the truth and it does not set her free—in fact, it lands her in the pokey.
Buried under a mistaken identity, unable to seek help from her family, her hot streak runs cold until her landlord Bradley Cole steps in. Make that her landlord, lawyer, and love interest. With his help, Davis must win this high stakes game before her luck runs out.
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THANKS FOR READING!
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