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(BEGIN VIDEO CLIP: BRANDON GATES IN GREEN JAIL SCRUBS, ARM IN SLING, APPEARING IN COURT) CRAIG BROOKES, NEWS 9 ANCHOR (V.O.): As expected, Gates was charged with the murder of campaign worker Rachel Eisenstat and the attempted murder of reporter Casey Cheng. In the case of Cheng, his lawyers argue that he harbors an obsessive fixation on her and his intent was merely to frighten, not to harm. Casey Cheng, however, insists that she owes her life to Sarah Price’s intervention.

(END VIDEO CLIP) CASEY CHENG, WITH SARAH PRICE (IN STUDIO). CHENG: It’s safe to say I would not be here if it weren’t for Sarah (SHE LOOKS AT PRICE, GIVES HER ARM A SQUEEZE). She was incredibly brave. She just tackled him like she was a mixed martial arts star or something (LAUGHS).

BROOKES: Do you have any martial arts training, Sarah?

PRICE: No (SHRUGS). I bench-press.

BROOKES: Casey, I understand you have some news about the perpetrators of the online harassment you’ve been experiencing. An arrest has been made, hasn’t it?

CHENG: Yes, it has. This gentleman appears to be one of the ringleaders, and I will say that the frequency of the threats has dropped considerably since his arrest. His name is Stephen Orlov, and as it turns out, he runs George Drake’s fan club.

BROOKES: Wow. And … is there any evidence that George Drake himself was involved?

CHENG: I think it’s too early in the investigation to say (SMILES). But I’m sure the authorities will be looking very closely at that possibility.

BROOKES: Casey, after everything that’s happened … how are you coping?

CHENG: Well … right now, I’m taking a few days off. And after the election’s over, I plan on taking a long vacation. Maybe to Bhutan. I hear it’s the happiest place on earth.

BROOKES: And you, Sarah? You’ve been through a lot in the last few months. What are your plans?

PRICE: Finish the campaign.

BROOKES: Finish the campaign. You’re okay with going back to that? You’ve been in serious danger now, twice. You’re not afraid to keep going?

PRICE: I actually feel better than I did. Because that first time, in the park, there wasn’t anything I could do about it. This time (SMILES), this time, there was.

“Casey Cheng has got to be the luckiest bitch in local news.”

“No kidding.”

“Three times, man,” Charlie said as he swapped his camcorder’s battery. “Three guys with guns. That’s just freaky. I mean, not if she was covering Afghanistan, but San Diego?”

Gabrielle felt her cheeks flush. “Well, this is embarrassing. I thought you were talking about the stories she’s been filing.”

“That too.”

Charlie had worked in Afghanistan and Iraq for a couple of years, and even though he swore he’d come to San Diego to “chill and collect a paycheck,” she sometimes thought covering this beat was a big bore for him.

Casey worked hard for those stories, Gabrielle told herself. You shouldn’t think of hard work as luck. She didn’t want to be one of those women who cut down other women, just because she was ever so slightly jealous.

Also, let’s not forget that that shit’s terrifying, she thought.

She wondered how Casey was handling it all. They weren’t exactly friends, but they’d met a few times on stories and at functions, had chatted over drinks. Everybody pretty much knew everybody in this business. Gabrielle still couldn’t get over the way that Casey had kept going after the same damn things that had nearly gotten her killed in the first place. But then, Casey was a little intense.

Not that Gabrielle had anything against her. When she’d gotten shot covering Crooked Arrow, Gabrielle had cried. She’d thought about it for weeks, thoughts like, “that could happen to me, that could happen to any of us,” and she kept asking herself if what she was doing was worth it.

But the fact was, nothing like that was likely to happen to her. What happened at Crooked Arrow, what happened at the park, things like that hardly ever happened in places like San Diego, just like Charlie had said. They were a statistical anomaly.

What had seemed like a huge conspiracy was just three sick losers with guns.

If something like that happens to somebody else, then it’s not going to happen to you. Just like if an airplane crashes, the flight you’re taking the next day won’t, because that roll of the dice already came up.

Which she also knew was not how probability and chance actually worked, but whatever.

“You ready to go do this thing?” she asked Charlie.

Charlie slammed the News 12 Expedition’s door shut and clicked the lock in his key fob. “Yeah, let’s do it.”

Another day, another Kim Tegan campaign event.

“ … and we’re gonna continue to do great things together!” Kim Tegan pumped her fist. “We’re gonna protect our borders and protect our American values!”

Tegan’s headquarters was decked out in red, white, and blue bunting and star-spangled balloons. There were the usual big bowls of super-sized Costco snack mix, some wine and beer and soft drinks. She’d gotten a good turnout. The volunteers and staff were a mix primarily of older white women and younger white men, with a few older men and young women mixed in. Some of the younger guys were from the local and state party, Gabrielle guessed. Both sides were putting in everything they could throw at this race.

Most of the local news affiliates had sent a camera or a team out to cover Tegan’s appearance, a quick hit at most for the 11 p.m. show. As Tegan finished speaking, several of the photographers were already headed for the door. Gabrielle would have loved to pack it in herself, but as tempting as that was, they’d already come out here and Tegan promised press availability.

Anyway, it was too late. Tegan’s media guy was approaching.

“Hey there,” he said, all smiles. “We thought we’d do the press availability out back—there’s still some nice light.”

“Sounds good.”

She and Charlie followed him through the party and through the back door, out to the parking lot.

Three crews had stuck around for Tegan, including News 9.

“So how’s Casey doing?” Gabrielle asked Hunter, their on-air guy.

“You know, she seems okay. A little wound-up, I mean, more so than usual,” he added, his voice dropping a couple of notes.

So she wasn’t the only one who thought Casey was a tad intense.

“She took a couple days off but made sure to give us the interview first. Now she’s back. Swears she’s taking a long vacation soon as the election’s over. Personally I think she’s interviewing for a national gig.”

Good for her, Gabrielle thought. She didn’t want to be Casey Cheng, when it came right down to it. She had a husband and a five-year-old, and what she really wanted at this point in her life was less stress, more money, and better hours.

A seat at the anchor desk, that would be good.

“Hi, guys!”

Kim Tegan smiled and waved at the assembled crews. The media staffer guided her toward the building’s wall—a terra cotta–colored stucco, it would make an unobtrusive backdrop for the shot. Otherwise you risked having someone walk into the shot from the parking lot.

The light was nice, the setting sun casting a diffuse, golden glow. A few campaign staffers and volunteers stood to one side, watching.

“Hi, Kim,” Gabrielle called out right away. “You’ve made some remarks recently about the dangers of extremist language, and you’ve decried the negativity going back and forth on this campaign. But we haven’t seen any real letup in attack ads coming from you or from Cason. In this last two weeks before the election, will we see a more positive tone from you?”

Tegan hesitated, her forehead wrinkling. “I think so,” she finally said. “Yes. I mean … I can’t do anything about the PACs supporting me. The tone they take isn’t something we can control. But … ” She shook her head. “I meant what I said before. We’re not enemies, we’re opponents.”

“True men will rise!” someone screamed, and Gabrielle turned and saw a young man standing with the volunteers, clutching a pistol, opening fire.