BROOKE AND JEREMY had another good session for an hour on Monday. Tuesday was nonstop because WJQC and every other station was waiting for breaking news from the White House. Writers were waiting anxiously and fact checkers were kept on hold. When Brooke got the latest news on the air by five, she breathed a sigh of relief.
On Wednesday, she and Jeremy settled down in the break room to discuss media law. Jeremy already knew some of the more exacting details of what is allowed on air and what can get a news station in a heap of trouble. He explained that when he’d first heard from Milt Cramer, he’d done a bit of cramming about television news. So he wasn’t completely ignorant about what Brooke wanted him to know. His eagerness to learn reminded Brooke of her own efforts when she started at the station.
His positive attitude was just one facet of Jeremy Crockett. He was smart, adaptable and had more common sense than almost everyone she knew. But she still couldn’t shake the feeling that he wouldn’t make it in this business. And that feeling scared her half to death. Was he not worried if he failed? He probably had enough money saved from his playing days to exist for years. If Milt carried through with his threat, Brooke couldn’t stay afloat for two months. If Jeremy had a flaw, it was that he didn’t realize what a tough business this was.
He continued to ask her about her ankle, which was improving every day. “I’m almost to the point that I can wear something more stylish to work than a bedroom slipper,” she said to him.
“Just don’t push it,” he said. “Besides, that’s a great-looking slipper.”
Sometimes Brooke just wanted to forget the lessons and sit back with Jeremy and talk about anything else. But she didn’t let her thoughts stray very often. She was going to have to push him pretty hard or Milt would put them both out on the street. Jeremy with a contract that had been bought out, and Brooke with a paltry severance package.
So Brooke kept coaxing him back on track. At the same time she encouraged his efforts, he seemed determined to encourage her. “You really know this stuff, Brooke,” he said. “I’m so thankful you agreed to help me.”
She kept a smile plastered on her face and bit back the truth. Ha! Agreed? Not hardly. Self-preservation was more like it. “You’re welcome. Now let’s get back to learning about these libel cases.”
* * *
WHEN BROOKE ARRIVED home on Wednesday, she had a message from Gabe on her landline. She hoped he wasn’t asking for more money. She’d just managed to put six hundred dollars into his checking account, and at this point she wanted to see results.
She dialed his number. “Gabe, it’s Brooke. Any news?”
“Nothing definite. I’m checking some things out tomorrow and Friday. And just maybe I’ve got a good lead. I’ve uncovered a file about a kid who seems to be Edward’s age. He has a rap sheet as long as my arm, and the funny thing is, his name is listed differently for almost every crime.”
“That’s strange. How can you be certain of who he really is?”
“I can’t. That’s the problem. But his name changes are not the weirdest thing. I found a couple of pictures, too, mostly mug shots. In one, he’s got coal-black hair. In another he’s a bleached blond. Seems this kid was a master at deception…and obtaining false IDs.”
If Gabe was describing her half brother, Brooke was definitely not impressed with the life he’d led as a teenager, but she reminded herself that Edward had grown up not wanted by his mother and, probably, the foster system. “Okay, and what do you think? Is it worth pursuing? How are we going to find him?”
“His juvenile record trail grew cold when he would have turned about sixteen,” Gabe said. “The last known reference to him was in a record of him appearing before a judge in juvie court. He was accused of stealing a car and was sentenced to six months in detention. His name was listed as Jerry Miller with about a half-dozen aliases attached. Can’t find anything after that.”
“So what makes you suspect this guy is my half brother?”
“Instinct, I guess,” Gabe admitted. “Plus a few clues are there. He’s the right age. His crimes occurred mostly in South Carolina, and the judge who tried him was a Carolina judge.”
Not much to go on, but maybe more than Gabe had presented in the past. For some reason, she thought she should trust the investigator’s instincts.
“Do you think he suddenly became a law-abiding citizen?” Brooke asked.
“Ha! I sincerely doubt it. Kids with that long a record usually don’t turn honorable citizen over night. He probably spent more than six months in juvie for misbehaving, got out eventually and upped his crime game. My guess is he spent a few good years in prison under one of his assumed names. Or he made up a new one.”
“You don’t make this guy sound like a brother I should look forward to meeting.”
“Yeah, I know, but it’s your call. It’s a decent lead, but if this man turns out to be Edward, you may not want to know him.”
Brooke seriously doubted that conclusion. Even if Edward needed help, wasn’t she willing to step in and do that? And what if he was a good citizen, having corrected his bad behavior? Then all her work and money would have been worth it. Either way, he was her brother.
“What is your plan to find him?” Brooke figured whatever the plan was, it would cost her more money, so she would listen intently to his response.
“I’m going to try to track down the judge that sentenced him in juvenile court. That was nearly twenty years ago. The judge could be anywhere. He could be dead.”
Brooke sighed. “And if you do find someone who could have been this judge on this particular date, what are the chances he’d remember a car thief from almost two decades ago?”
“Depends on how many car thieves he’s tried in his career. But you’re right. His memory could be foggy by now.”
The chances weren’t good, either for Gabe finding this boy from twenty years ago, or of her taking on the task of rehabilitating a possible hardened criminal in her life if he really was Edward. Brooke accepted that fact, just like she’d had to bolster her spirits with almost every conversation she’d had with Gabe. He always told her that any decision was “her call,” and she always convinced herself that this time might produce the results she dreamed of.
“Do you want me to try to locate the judge?” Gabe asked her. “It might turn out to be another wild-goose chase, but you never know. If I find the guy, who will be thirty-five by now, I’ll want to interview him face-to-face, so travel time and expenses will be involved.”
Of course. No surprise there. “How much?”
“Fifteen hundred ought to cover it. That’s a bargain price, Brooke, because I’ll be working on other cases at the same time. If I had to charge you for continuous duty, I’d have to have more than fifteen hundred.”
That was a higher amount than she’d ever given Gabe at one time. She could possibly check her bank balance and scrape together some of that amount, but it would make a serious dent in her savings. And what if Milt decided to let her go if she failed with Jeremy? She would definitely regret giving that money to Gabe.
But this lead was all Gabe had, and Brooke just couldn’t let it go. Maybe this time…
“Okay. I can get the money, but Gabe, if this doesn’t work out, I’ll have to rethink the whole search. My sister’s been telling me for months that I’m wasting my time and money. Maybe she’s right.”
“Maybe she is, but this is your thing, not hers, and finding this guy seems to be awfully important to you. My advice is you do what’s best for you.”
She had to trust someone, and Brooke truly did trust Gabe. He’d always been straight with her, and his fees were in line with research she had done on the cost of hiring a PI. Yes, she trusted him, but she couldn’t go on financing this investigation forever. Not now when she wasn’t even sure what her income would be.
“I don’t want to know each little trip you make or conversation you have,” she said. “Just call me when you have something positive to share.”
“That’s the way you want it?”
“Yes.” For the last few months, all Brooke had gotten from Gabe were failure reports. He was doing his job and keeping her updated, but she didn’t want to know every time he hit a loose end. Hope was all she had.
“Good luck, Gabe. I’ll talk to you when you know something.”
Brooke hung up the phone and went to look out her window. “Oh, Edward, where are you?” She resisted the urge to cry. In prison? We haven’t found a match. Are you even alive? We haven’t found a death record. Do you even have a memory of your mother having twin babies? And if I do find you, will you turn me away?
Brooke considered that Camryn was right. Her need to find Edward had turned into an obsession. It had started innocently enough with Brooke’s desire to find their real mother, who had rejected them the day they’d located her. And then she’d learned of a brother, and her need to belong, to have true family roots, had taken off and become more and more important to her with each day. The last few months of searching for Edward had seemed like years. The toll on her bank account and her self-confidence was growing steadily.
“I have to stop doing this,” she said with firm conviction. “One more try, my brother, and then, unless a miracle happens, I have to stop. But can I? Can I let go of this desire to have you in my life?”
* * *
FRIDAY MORNING PROVED to be a relatively light news day. Brooke had made arrangements to meet with Jeremy in the break room for lunch and they’d agreed to have Chinese food delivered. She was looking forward to the appointment, telling herself she couldn’t let Jeremy’s enthusiasm for WJQC fade. Her willingness to meet with him had nothing to do with the comfort level they had established between them, or the fact that she was just beginning to see qualities in him that she hadn’t expected to see.
Brooke was checking her messages midmorning when Cissy opened her office door and popped her head in. Usually staff members knocked when Brooke had her door closed. Cissy did not believe such consideration existed for her. After all, she was “practically Brooke’s personal assistant.” Brooke waved her in. Maybe some good office gossip would prove interesting today. Cissy always had the latest news.
“Hey, Ciss, what’s up?” Brooke said.
“Hi, girlfriend.” Cissy’s voice had the same familiar singsong quality Brooke had come to associate with her. “Just seeing if you need me to do anything for you. I’ve finished my proofreading and have a little extra time.”
Before Brooke could tell her that she didn’t need a thing right now, Cissy changed the subject. “How’s your ankle? I see you are walking better.”
“Thanks to Jeremy,” she said. “He suggested some mild exercises, and I’ve been doing them off and on every day.”
“I guess you like him, right? He has a way of getting into everyone’s good graces around here. All I hear are comments about football from the guys and comments about Jeremy’s looks from the women.”
Brooke smiled. “I agree that the staff seem to like him. Don’t you, Cissy?”
“Besides the fact that he took the anchor’s job from the rest of us?”
Brooke held her temper. “Cissy, we talked about this.”
“I know. But as far as liking Jeremy, I thought I would, but now, not so much.”
“Why not? Has Jeremy done anything to upset you?”
“Not that I can talk about,” Cissy said.
What did that mean? Brooke wondered. Had Jeremy made an unwanted pass at Cissy? If so, that was a matter for the human resources department. Brooke hoped her first conclusion wasn’t true, but why would Cissy’s complaint about Jeremy be kept a secret?
“I don’t understand what the problem is, Cissy. You were quite taken with Jeremy when you first met him.” Brooke hadn’t told anyone at WJQC that her own future was wrapped so tightly with Jeremy’s. As far as everyone knew, her efforts to help him were just Brooke being the team player Milt wanted her to be.
“I was impressed with him,” Cissy said. “He looks like his Carolina Wildcats roster pictures. And that ain’t bad. Broad shoulders, narrow hips, a strong face and that thick, light brown hair. But you know the type, Brooke. He’s used to the ladies chasing him. Never been married. He’s a hot property, and he knows it.”
Brooke had never seen a photo of the Wildcats roster, but she could agree that Jeremy would have taken a good picture. Maybe Cissy’s problem with Jeremy was that he hadn’t made a pass at her. Brooke had never seen him strut his hotness around the office. Sometimes Cissy had good instincts, so Brooke decided to pursue this attitude of hers. “How is he getting along with everybody here workwise?” she asked. “I’m asking about reactions that have nothing to do with football or looks.”
“Okay, I guess. At first everyone thought he was this athletic god or something. Now we all realize he’s learning his job just like everyone else. He’ll never replace you if that’s what you’re thinking,” Cissy said.
“I wasn’t thinking that. Jeremy doesn’t want to be a producer. He was hired to take over for Fred in a few weeks. Milt just thought he should know as much about the station and the news business as possible.”
“He’s lucky he’s had you to help him,” Cissy said. She took a seat in front of Brooke’s desk and sighed. “Can I be honest with you, Brooke?”
That was a leading question. “Of course you can. I would hope that you always would be.”
Cissy took a long breath. “You and I don’t have any secrets, right, Brooke?”
Brooke didn’t like to lie outright, so she just waited for Cissy to say more.
“You know that I want Fred Armitage’s job. I told you that. And if not me, then you should have it. Bottom line, one of us long-standing, loyal employees should get a crack at that position.”
“That’s not the direction Milt is going,” Brooke explained. “But take your crack. Tell Milt you’d like an audition. As for me, I don’t want the job.”
“Without your support, I would never get a shot,” Cissy said. “If you were behind me, if you talked me up, Milt might take me more seriously.”
“Milt has made up his mind, Ciss. But you never know. The only thing I can say is that if you want to approach Milt about the anchor job, go ahead.” Brooke knew what he would say, but it wasn’t her place to completely squash Cissy’s dreams.
“Oh, I don’t know. I really thought you would go after that job. You have all the qualifications. Looks, intelligence, confidence. And you’ve been here over ten years.” Cissy leaned over Brooke’s desk. “Tell me the truth. Aren’t you just a little upset that Milt completely passed you over for this plum position? Deep down, don’t you think he should have asked you if you wanted the job?”
Truly, Brooke hadn’t been upset. Now that Cissy mentioned it, however, a small niggle of doubt suddenly crept into her mind. Why hadn’t Milt offered her the job, or at least an opportunity to compete for it? Why hadn’t he at least looked for a replacement among his staff? “No, I’m not upset,” she said, without her usual conviction. “I’m happy on my side of the camera. Let someone else be in the spotlight.”
“But you’d be great,” Cissy said. “Certainly better than a washed-up sports guy. You’d have a classy, polished delivery. Haven’t you ever thought about it?”
In all honesty, no one could stand in a control room for ten years without at least imagining what it would be like to be on the other side. There had been times when Fred had messed up or blown a line and Brooke had told herself that she could have done it so much better. She believed, and still did, that a celebrity spotlight, even for a news anchor, was tempting stuff. Before she considered the consequences of her answer, she said, “Well, I suppose a time or two…”
“You have! Oh, my God, Brooke, you’d be amazing!”
Oh, no—Brooke had punched a hole in a dam of enthusiasm that might never be contained. “Calm down, Cissy. That’s never going to happen.”
“Okay, I get it. You don’t want to ruin Jeremy’s chances since you’re helping him. But that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t want the job.” She paused, twisted her hands in her lap. “I’m going to do it, Brooke. I’m going to ask Milt if I could audition. Goodness knows I can use a thirty-thousand bump in my yearly salary. Me as the anchor and you as my producer! Just imagine it, Brooke.”
“Do what you think is best, Cissy, but maybe you should let Milt’s plan to hire Jeremy play out. I suppose it’s okay to think of what you might say to Milt if he changes his mind about Jeremy, but right now approaching him could be employment suicide.”
Cissy smiled. Not a sweet, appreciative smile, but a slightly devious, conniving one. “You’re right, Brooke. Bide my time. This jock will prove himself soon enough. He’ll stumble and fall, and Milt will realize what a stupid idea he had to hire someone with no experience and no news savvy.”
“Actually,” Brooke said, “Jeremy’s a fast…” She never finished her sentence.
Cissy stood. “I’m so glad I talked to you, Brooke. I knew you’d have excellent advice for me.”
“Cissy, I’m just talking common sense now. I’m not advising you to do anything. In fact—”
“Sure, I get it.” Cissy headed for the door. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone my feelings. But you and I—” she pointed at Brooke and then pointed at herself, as if they’d created a conspiracy “—we know what a dynamite combination we’d be. And what having a female anchor would do for ratings.”
Brooke could only hope that Cissy would give up her dream. Maybe she would come to appreciate Jeremy’s abilities as he became more and more competent. There was no way Milt would put Cissy on camera, and despite Cissy’s claims that the two of them would make this great team, Brooke did not want Cissy at the anchor desk. She had to see Jeremy succeed or that dwindling bank balance of hers would only get worse. It might go from black to red.
* * *
TYPICAL OF ALMOST any news day, Friday ended up a bit crazy. A fire near the waterfront had crews out with live reports and video. A man threatening to jump from a high-rise building put everyone’s nerves on edge. Brooke canceled the meeting for the break room and ended up buying a sandwich from the deli on the first floor. She had been looking forward to Chinese and, well, she had been looking forward to seeing Jeremy. Always in her mind was the fact that he held the key to her future success at WJQC, but there was no denying that other reasons for her interest in him kept growing almost daily.
So at six o’clock, when he suggested he could pick up a pizza and come over to her place, she readily agreed. Wow, what had happened to the girl who was never home on Friday nights? She knew, of course. Her determination to find Edward and now this added tension of possibly losing her job had changed her. And at the same time, seemed to have affected her telephone, which almost never rang with invitations anymore.
She would get back on track. She could pick up her life where she’d left it. But right now her life was all about two men. Edward and Jeremy. She might never find one, and she might discover that in the eyes of the other, she was no more than a stepping stone to his success. Unfortunately, the possibility of that happening didn’t do much to brighten her days. Anyway, pizza sounded good, and when she got home she opened a bottle of wine to let it breathe.