Chapter Nineteen

Callie Graves hated coming into the office during the week. They wouldn’t give her the coveted Monday through Friday spot, so why should she have to waste her precious time being here? And whoever thought it was a good idea to hold staff meetings on Fridays was seriously twisted.

She was already pissed she hadn’t been called to fill in when Olivia didn’t show up on Wednesday. That they used Jinger, the naïve country bumpkin made her blood boil. Jinger was blonde and bouncy and her twangy accent made Callie want to either puke or punch her in the face. And the reason Olivia didn’t show up irked her, too. She’d been shot at and now everyone was fawning all over her like she was a priceless piece of china or something. Too bad the bullets didn’t hit her. Then maybe Callie would get the job she really wanted. Snarky, sure, but she was tired of getting passed over for Olivia.

She pushed through the door, intending to head straight for her cubicle.

“Welcome to NYC-TV3! Can I help you, ma’am?”

Callie stopped dead in her tracks and slowly rotated to glare at the woman sitting behind the desk. She was young and perky and Callie hated her on sight. “Ma’am? Did you just call me ma’am?”

The woman’s eyes widened and she nodded uncertainly. The smile slipped from her face.

“Don’t you know who I am?” She marched forward and smacked a hand on the counter. The girl flinched. “I’m the top talent of this network, the lead anchor.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” the girl apologized. “It’s only my second day and I’m still learning names.”

Callie shook her head, intending to dress the girl down when a small package caught her eye. It was a padded envelope addressed to Olivia. Callie’s heart beat faster. Could this be one of the videos from the Vigilante?

“I suggest you learn them quicker.” She swept up the envelope. “I’ll take this with me.”

“Okay, sure, Ms. Larrson. It was nice to meet you, and I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you.”

Callie breezed away, not bothering to correct the stupid girl or return her comment. Receptionists were beneath her so she didn’t bother to learn the girl’s name.

Once she was out of sight, she practically ran to her cubicle. She scoped out the people milling about. No one was paying attention to her. She booted up her computer, did one more check to make sure no one was looking, then she ripped open the package and slid the drive in her computer. There was only one file marked, Clarke, Morris. She made sure the sound was turned low and hit play.

A man’s face came on screen. He looked haggard and homeless and Callie wrinkled her nose as if she could smell him from here. Sweat coated his entire forehead. “My name’s Morris Clarke, and I killed Douglas and Edith Wicks.”

Callie’s breaths were pumping in and out like someone working a bellows. It was from the Vigilante! The man said some other things but Callie tuned him out as she constructed a script in her head to announce the video. Then a note flashed up, saying Olivia must deliver the message, blah, blah, blah. Repercussions, blah, blah, blah. Too damn bad. Finders keepers. Olivia wasn’t doing this one. Callie was.

She’d worked her way up through the ranks, so she knew how to edit a video. She even had a program on her computer that would do the job. She snipped off the part about Olivia announcing the clip and pulled the drive from the port. She could barely contain her excitement.

The instructions said the video had to be played tomorrow, so she would make sure to stick to that guideline. She’d run into Aaron’s office waving the tape, saying it’d come to her. Then they could get everything set up so she could deliver the message. It would be her face breaking the news about the latest victim of the Vigilante.

She slid the flash drive in her purse and checked her watch. It was time for the stupid meeting. She stood to leave when she remembered the envelope with Olivia’s name. She dropped back into her chair, opened a drawer for a pair of scissors and shredded the envelope beyond recognition. Just to be safe, she gathered the pieces and carried them into the break room to toss them in the trash.

With a huge smile on her face, she patted her purse and headed to the conference room.

#

Mindy Prescott blew her bangs out of her eyes and sighed. This job was harder than she thought it would be. She could easily answer the phone since hers was practically attached to her ear. Greeting visitors was a breeze. She liked meeting people. But when she had to deal with nasty women like Olivia Larrson, that made the job difficult. The woman’s green eyes had shot sparks that practically singed her. When she spun around to stomp off, her mane of red hair almost smacked Mindy in the face and she had to duck out of the way.

The bell on the door chimed and she forgot all about mean Olivia. A man strolled inside with an air of confidence. Young. Handsome. Medium height with brown hair and green eyes. She arched her back and smiled. “Welcome to NYC-TV3. Can I help you?” She didn’t add the ‘sir’ since ‘ma’am’ seemed to piss Olivia off for some reason. She didn’t want this handsome stranger getting angry with her.

He stopped in front of the desk and raked his eyes over her prominently displayed chest. Up close, she could see flecks of brown in his green eyes. His clothes were designer and he smelled delicious. He flashed a killer smile. She wasn’t sure, but she might’ve sighed.

“You can definitely help me,” he looked down at her brand-spanking-new nameplate, “Mindy. I’m writing a screenplay and I’ve included a scene in a newsroom. I was wondering if I could interview one of the anchors to you know, add authenticity to the movie.”

“How exciting! I’ve always wanted to be an actress,” she confessed.

“Sweetheart, you definitely have the looks to be on screen.”

Mindy preened at his comment.

“So, I was hoping to interview Olivia Larrson.”

Mindy’s nose crinkled. Why would he want to talk to that witch? Mindy didn’t watch the news, so maybe she came across as nice on television. In person, she was a red-headed bitch on wheels. “She’s not around,” she lied. “I can leave a message for her if you give me your number?” She added enough suggestion to the comment that he had to know what she meant.

It worked. His smile was pure wicked. “How about we forget about her and I take you to dinner instead.”

Mindy’s heart raced. She didn’t miss the intent in his question. “I’d love to.”

After making arrangements to meet at a restaurant, he turned to leave.

“Wait,” she called after him.

He turned with a questioning look.

“I don’t even know your name.”

“It’s ah, Ray. Ray Smith.”

#

Trent smiled as he slipped on his sunglasses and strolled out of the television station. He didn’t think he’d actually get to speak to Olivia Larrson—it couldn’t be that easy—but Mindy Big Boobs was an unexpected bonus. The chick had totally been into him. Her brown hair was long and shiny, her gray eyes sparkled. And she was stacked. He chuckled. It’d be no hardship to get close to her and he had no problem using her. What he really wanted was to get a look at the inside of the station and she was his in. He had a few other ideas up his sleeve on how to get to Larrson, but he liked to have back-up plans in place. That was just good practice.

It’d been a stroke of genius to give Mindy Ray’s name. When Larrson was killed, and she would be, there would be nothing to tie him to the crime.

His cell rang and he checked the display, a spurt of panic shooting through him when he saw the name on the screen. He stopped abruptly, causing pedestrians behind him to bob and weave around him. He ignored the curses and raised middle fingers. “Hello?”

“Mr. Charles? This is Fran Dixon, your lawyer.”

“Yes, Mrs. Dixon. What do you need.”

“I just received a call from the police department. It seems that they are focusing on you and Mr. Smith again for the disappearance of Laurie Spellman.”

“What?” Trent’s heart pounded against his rib cage. Even though ninety percent of the time, Ray was batshit crazy, he’d been right about Laurie’s father. The man had badgered the authorities until they considered him and Ray as suspects again. Could Ray have been right about the Vigilante coming after them, too? “We already gave our statements. Make them go away. Just tell them I have no comment.”

There was a short pause. “I wouldn’t recommend that, Mr. Charles.”

Trent’s blood boiled. He didn’t like her holier-than-thou tone. She was paid exorbitantly well to defend him but he had the feeling she didn’t believe him. The fact that he was guilty was beside the point.

“If you refuse to speak with them, it only makes you look like you have something to hide. Do you have something to hide, Mr. Charles?”

His trigger finger twitched automatically. Maybe he’d have to pay her a visit with his friends Smith and Wesson…after she got him off the hook. “No, I have nothing to hide and I don’t have a problem talking to the authorities again, but I’m a…out of town for a few days. I can’t come back just to tell the police the same thing I told them earlier.”

“I would recommend that you speak to them as soon as possible. I’ll let them know that you’re away but I can’t promise a warrant won’t be issued for your arrest. I’ll expect a call from you in the next few days so we can set up a time for the interview.”

She hung up and Trent fought the urge to chuck his phone like a baseball. He needed an outlet to channel the rage festering inside him. The beast clawed to get out. His eyes roamed the area, landing on a woman headed his way. She smiled at him as she passed. Short. Blonde. She reminded him of both Laurie and Olivia Larrson. He spun on his heel and followed her.