“ARE YOU SURE this is a good idea?” Janet asked me
“No.”
“I don’t like it, Clare.”
“You mean the story?”
“No, the person you’re working on it with.”
We were talking on the phone. I’d called Janet to tell her about Manning and the rest. I didn’t tell her a lot about the details of the story. Only that it involved a series of murders that might be related. Not that I didn’t trust Janet. But I’d promised Manning and the FBI I would keep all this information to myself. I’d already broken that promise twice—with Faron and then with Maggie, albeit for necessary reasons—and I didn’t want to make it worse by telling Janet everything, too.
Besides, Janet and I had this policy where we tried not to reveal to each other sensitive stuff about the things we were working on: my exclusive stories and her sensitive legal cases. We had agreed that we both had big mouths—okay, that was mostly me that had a big mouth—and could inadvertently leak privileged information without even knowing we were doing it. Anyway, it seemed to work out better for our friendship this way.
“It’s just a story,” I said now. “He’s an FBI agent working on it and I’m a journalist. That’s all this is.”
“Except for the fact that you have a torrid sexual relationship with this guy.”
“Had a torrid sexual relationship with him—past tense,” I pointed out.
“And you have no interest in having that kind of a relationship with him now?”
“He’s married.”
“That’s a non-answer.”
“I’m only interested in the story, Janet.”
“And he’s okay with that, too?”
“He insisted on it. Said it had to be strictly business right from the start when I approached him again about this. We’re both on the same page. He’s back with his wife and I’m interested in somebody else besides him.”
“That guy Weddle at your station?”
“Right.”
“Who you haven’t actually consummated anything with yet, because you both decided to hold off until he stops working for the station. Meanwhile, you’ll be with Scott Manning on this other story.”
“Uh-huh.”
“I think this whole situation is fraught with peril.”
“Fraught with peril? Talk to me in English, Janet—not legal-speak.”
“It could all blow up in your face.”
I went back to the office and ran the afternoon news meeting. The big story was a tornado warning for New Jersey, Staten Island, and parts of Long Island. That made the lead story choice for the newscast easy. Tornadoes rarely caused major damage in the New York City area, but tornado warnings still scared the hell out of people and guaranteed big ratings.
At the end of the meeting, I informed everyone that Maggie would be running the news meetings for the next few days while I was on special assignment. Everyone wanted to know what the special assignment was, of course—the room was full of nosy journalists. But I just made a joke of it by saying: “I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you all.”
I told Faron and Maggie privately all about my meeting with Manning and the FBI and why I was going back to Indiana. Faron seemed dubious about the FBI keeping its word on cooperation, and I think he still regretted not going on air with the story right away. Maggie seemed dubious about me working with Manning again, which she’d never approved of. There was a lot of dubious reaction in the room. But both agreed it was good in the end that the FBI had allowed me into the investigation.
I found Weddle then and told him I was leaving for Indiana the next day. I said it was a big story that I was working on, along with an FBI agent named Scott Manning who had helped me last year break all the Dora Gayle/Grace Mancuso murder news. I didn’t tell him much more—about the story now or about Manning.
He didn’t ask either. I was hoping he might suggest we get together that night for a farewell of sorts. Maybe some dinner. Maybe some snuggling. Maybe a secret kiss or two. But he wished me a good trip and then said—rather abruptly, I thought—he needed to go back into the office he was using to crunch some new ratings numbers.
Maybe he knew about my past with Manning and was jealous.
Maybe he was upset because he was going to miss me so much while I was out of town.
Or maybe he did need to get back to work on the ratings numbers.
Sometimes I overthink this kind of stuff.
I went home, packed for my trip, ordered pizza, and finally fell asleep still wearing the same clothes I wore to work in front of the TV watching as Jimmy Fallon did his “thank-you letters” reading bit. I’d put on an expensive new dress yesterday morning in hopes of impressing either Manning or Weddle with how great it looked. But neither one mentioned it.
Now here I was all alone in my apartment.
Clare Carlson, media superstar.
All dressed up and eating pizza to go.