THE VIDEOTAPE RESTED ON Carmen’s lap as she drove through the early morning rain to the station. Dennis had called her late the night before to tell her he wanted to see her this morning. He wanted to find out what she’d learned, he’d said, to figure out the “best way to use it.” He’d coughed toward the end of that sentence, and for a moment she thought he’d said “exploit it.” So, she thought to herself, what’s the difference?
In her still-numb state the night before, she’d told him she had a tape that would explain everything.
“What’s on it?” he’d asked, clearly ecstatic.
“You’ll see.”
He’d laughed like a child enjoying a game she’d invented expressly for him. “Well, at least tell me if you have what you need to wrap up this story.”
“Yes.” At the very least. She could wrap up this story, solve an FBI case and ruin Jeff Cabrio’s life, all in one fell swoop.
“That’s what I like to hear,” he said, and she could picture him rubbing his hands together. “Tired from your flight?”
“A bit.”
“Get a good night’s sleep, then, Carmen, and I’ll see you early in the morning.”
Sleep, of course, had been impossible. As she lay in bed, she could see the videotape on her dresser, propped up against the mirror. When she closed her eyes, scenes from the tape ran through her mind—the terrified child in the window, Jeff’s panicky voice calling for Leslie, the hulking fire fighters huddled over the little girl. Three times she got out of bed and walked around the house, trying to free herself from the fiery, full-color images. She regretted ever having asked for the tape—it made it her responsibility. Worse, she regretted telling Dennis that she had it. That had been stupid, but she’d known how gleefully he’d respond to that news. She’d known how good it would make her look in his eyes, and she was easily—too easily—seduced by his professional respect for her these days, a respect that still felt new and fragile.
Chris had spent the night with her. Whether he decided to move into the house or not, she knew they would be sleeping together from now on. She didn’t tell him what was disturbing her, although he tried to pull it from her. His fear for her was touching, and she had to reassure him several times that she was all right, that she wasn’t about to harm herself in any way. At least not physically.
More than once during the night, she thought of showing him the tape. At least then she wouldn’t be alone with the images that haunted her and the horror of what she’d learned. That would have been unfair, though. She let Chris hold her during the night, but that was all the comfort she allowed herself to take from him. “You’ve saved me from every other problem I’ve had in the past decade,” she told him. “This one’s mine alone.”
Sometime very early in the morning, she heard a car pull out of the driveway, and she knew it was Jeff’s. She knew, also, that he wouldn’t be back. She cried then, quietly, not wanting Chris to wake up and ask her to explain her tears. She thought of Mia, left behind. She remembered Delores Harvey’s hope that Jeff could find happiness somewhere after what he’d been through. Was it her fault that he hadn’t found it here in Valle Rosa?
Perhaps. Undoubtedly she’d forced him to leave Valle Rosa sooner than he would have liked. But no matter how many names he assumed, no matter how many miles he traveled from his home, Robert Blackwell would never be able to keep a low profile. He would stand out wherever he went. Sooner or later, he was going to be found.
DENNIS WAS WAITING FOR her in his office. He stubbed out his cigarette when she walked in.
“Okay, Carmen.” He gestured toward the chair next to his desk. “Tell me what you’ve got.”
She sat down. “I can’t talk about it,” she said. “Not yet.”
He leaned toward her, bushy eyebrows raised. “Uh,” he said, with an annoying attempt at sarcasm, “you work for me, remember?”
“I haven’t quite figured out how I’m going to present it.”
“Well, how about you tell me what it is, and I’ll tell you how to present it.” He looked at her empty hands. “And where’s the tape? Let’s put it on so I can see—”
“I left it home. I figured there wasn’t much point in me bringing it over because I got it under slightly false pretenses. I won’t use it until I get permission from the woman who made it.”
“Carmen.” He was beginning to sound exasperated. “We’ll get the okay. Whatever it takes, we’ll get it.”
She shook her head. “It would ruin my credibility with her to ask her right now. Then she’d never come on the Sunrise special and—”
“There won’t be a Sunrise special unless you handle this right.”
She moved her hands to the arms of the chair. “Look,” she said, “you’ve trusted me so far to know what information to release and when to release it. And it’s worked out pretty well, hasn’t it?”
“I have to admit you’re right there.” He couldn’t help a smile at the thought of News Nine‘s inflated ratings. Then he sighed. “Well, you always were a controlling woman, Carmen. Always wanted a hand in everything, didn’t you? I’d almost forgotten what a pain in the ass you could be.”
He wasn’t joking, and for a moment she felt afraid. She didn’t want him to remember anything negative about her tenure on Sunrise.
She tried smiling at him. “I was a perfectionist, yes, but maybe that was why my ratings were always through the ceiling.”
“You understand we can’t firm up an agreement on Sunrise until you come through with your end of the deal.”
“I know. That’s fine.”
He stretched back in his chair. “Well, in case things move according to plan and we have that kick-off Sunrise special— which we should do the second we announce you’re back on the show—I want to get the names of the people you interviewed. We’ll get in touch with them and make them an offer. I want to try to get the old man on the show, too.”
“Jeff’s stepfather?” She pictured the wheezing, frail old man who knew nothing about the loss of his grandchildren or the trouble his son was in. She would never put him through this. “I don’t think that would be possible,” she said. “He’s in for the rest of his life.”
Dennis waved a hand through the air. “We’ll persuade them to let him out for the show. Good behavior or compassion or whatever. If they won’t agree, we can send you there with a crew for an interview and run that on the show.”
“I don’t want to disturb him again.”
He narrowed his eyes at her. “Don’t go soft on me, Carmen. Not now that I’ve just about got everyone sold on you doing Sunrise.”
The phone rang on his desk and he picked it up. “Ketchum,” he barked into the receiver. He looked at her, something like suspicion in his eyes. “Hold on a second, Frank.” Then to Carmen, “Rumor has it Cabrio left town this morning.”
She shrugged. “I didn’t notice him at Sugarbush, but he’s usually at the warehouse by the time I get up.”
“Check it out,” Dennis spoke into the phone again. “Make some phone calls. Call that Smythe guy, and get back to me right away.”
He was growling when he hung up the phone. “Look, Carmen, at least give me enough of what you’ve got so we can run a teaser throughout the day. You know, ‘Carmen Perez at last reveals the truth about Valle Rosa’s mysterious rainmaker.’”
“Don’t run teasers, okay?”
“No, not okay. How about, ‘The drama of Jeff Cabrio’s life climaxes tonight on—’”
Carmen groaned. “That’s revolting. If you have to run a teaser, just say Carmen Perez concludes her story on Jeff Cabrio tonight at six.”
“Hmm.” His face reflected his disdain. “Real catchy, Carmen.” He lit a cigarette.
“He’s a human being,” she said, “not some brand of toothpaste you’re trying to sell.”
He took a drag on his cigarette, eyes narrowed at her again. “What the hell did you find out?”
She was relieved when the phone rang, and he turned his scrutiny away from her. “Yeah?” he said. “Are you sure—shit.” He hung up the phone, and she knew what he’d learned even before he told her.
“Your ticket back to the top just slipped out of town,” he said. “You’d better pull out all the stops tonight, girl. We’re counting on you.”