Chapter 2

The city of Lewiston straddled the voluptuous St. Clair River, not an easy feat, but the three bridges spanning that watery divide helped, much like safety pins added to a straining blouse. The west bank was dominated by a dynamic blend of sleek glass towers and stunning modern architecture. The west was the revving pulse of the city.

The east side, however, boasted the city’s stately government buildings, St. Clair University, and the Lewiston Civic Center. The east was respectability and endurance. It was on the east that you found the famous Vernon Boulevard, a four-mile-long, tree-lined thoroughfare that started at the old courthouse and passed in front of the classically designed museum, Orchestra Hall, and finally ended at the stunning Hurst Grand Conservatory and Botanical Gardens.

The outer rim of Lewiston was more like the downtown’s maiden aunt. Obviously old, it still had great bone structure, withstanding time and gravity with grace and dignity. Of more modest proportions—no building stood over four stories tall—old Lewiston had an abundance of elegant details that the flashier downtown couldn’t incorporate, like decorative cornices, moldings, columns, and brackets. Indeed, one of the oldest structures, its latest incarnation a trendy vegan sandwich shop, still retained its original glass in small, imperfect panes.

Years earlier, the city had torn up the old streets to replace water and sewer lines and install high-speed cables, and they took away some of the on-street parking to expand the sidewalks. Trees were planted and benches and bike racks placed strategically along the main avenue. They recovered the lost parking by buying out the last remaining eyesore, a large warehouse, home to a crime-riddled bar. A tidy three-story parking ramp was erected in its place.

These changes brought a renaissance to the neglected area, and suddenly quirky coffee houses mingled with old-fashioned shoe repair shops. An upscale day spa rubbed elbows with the corner barbershop and a hot new bakery. The charming movie theater with its old marquee was carefully restored and now showed second-run movies and cult favorites. Situated behind this flourishing commercial area were blocks of modest neighborhoods with small yards and stately trees.

The independent television station KBHY called the southwest edge of Lewiston home. Their address wasn’t as impressive as that of their network-affiliated competitors, who were all ensconced in the heart of downtown, but KBHY was fine with that. The station’s home had been designed by Roger Timmons and built forty-two years earlier on the corners of Perth Avenue and Wheatley Street. This sprawling two-story building garnered a lot of interest at the time because it was so stylistically different from its neighbors. Even now it still managed to look modern, but that was likely due to the local emphasis on revitalization rather than replacement of old structures.

KBHY’s news director Jackson Murphy leaned down and spoke into his microphone. “Bonnie?”

A woman with a clipboard on the studio floor turned with raised eyebrows and looked at him through the glass. He waved her into the booth. Loosening his tie, he flipped up his collar and tore the tie off over his head. When she stepped in, he held it out to her.

“The camera doesn’t like Justin’s tie. Get rid of it.” He stopped her before she walked out. “Don’t let him spend any more of his clothing allowance without you. Got it?”

“Got it.”

Jack folded down his collar and unbuttoned the top two buttons on his shirt. He took a deep breath and let it out.

Van looked over and shook his shaved head. “This is a pretty big gamble you’re taking on this kid.”

“Why’s that?” Jack slipped his headset over his ears and adjusted the mike in front of his mouth.

“He’s unknown, untried, and extremely young. Jack, the kid’s completely unqualified. Admit it—he’s just a face—hardly Peter Jennings or Dan Rather.”

“Even they weren’t Peter Jennings or Dan Rather when they started out.”

“But why do we have to usher him into the biz?”

“It’s either that or we update our resumes now. We’ve got twelve months to turn this news department around, or we’re all out. We wouldn’t even have that if I hadn’t convinced Yeager to let me have this one last shot.”

“And you think this kid is going to save our necks?”

“Look at him.”

The kid was behind the desk getting prepped for the camera. While a sound tech wired him to the booth, a woman dabbed powder on his face to remove shine. Van peered through the window at him but didn’t look convinced.

“And he’s not just a pretty face,” Jackson went on, dismissing the obvious criticism. “There’s a brain there, too. Justin ran his college newspaper, and he’s a hell of a writer. He’s up on issues, had a kick-ass audition tape, and still I wasn’t sure until I took him to Swaggers for lunch.”

“By the university?”

“That’s right. I’m not kidding here. When we walked in, everyone noticed him, male and female. He’s got something, and people—most people—respond to it. I’m going to use it to bring a younger audience to the local news. He’s not only going to report on things that affect them, but he’s going to explain how it affects them, while being responsible for more damp panties than what’s-his-name, that kid in those vampire movies. I want Justin Case to be high profile, out there, reaching them. He’s our cover boy, and he’s okay with that. I guarantee you he’s going to have a local fucking fan club within a matter of weeks. Mark my words.”

“Still feels risky to me.”

“No way. By giving him a chance on-air, we help each other out. He’s raising his profile, padding his resume, and delivering to us a market share that’s never been strong on news to begin with.”

“Let’s see how it goes.” Van shrugged, though his eyes narrowed skeptically.

Jack hit his mike. “Okay, Marty, on Justin in ten, nine, eight…”

Forty-five minutes later, Van raised his glass again, toasting Jack for his bold and unorthodox call. The kid had nailed it without a single slip. Now the collected crew thrust their glasses into the air and joined Van’s toast, all laughing with delight as Jack came to his feet and executed a bow. He looked up and nodded proudly at his prodigy.

“You did good.” Jackson raised his glass of ginger ale to the boy wonder.

Right after the successful broadcast, they adjourned en masse to the Oasis for a quick dinner. Jackson understood that Justin was a big investment for the station, but as scary as it sounded, they had gone along with his suggestions and updated the studio set, changed the music, and approved the edgier ten-second teaser spots.

Well before the end of the newscast the phone calls were coming in and audience feedback was running eight to one in favor of the changes. That alone deserved to be celebrated, but the real test would come tonight, at the ten p.m. broadcast.

****

Sabrina rubbed her distended tummy uneasily. “I think there was something off with that burrito I ate for lunch.”

Tanya gave her a sympathetic look. “I’ll get you a Seven-Up. That’s what my mom used to give me when I had a stomach ache.”

“Did it help?”

“Sometimes.”

“It’s worth a shot, but I can get it myself. Join me?”

“Sure.”

They walked out from the back into the already hopping bar and restaurant. Luckily, they managed to snag the last two stools along the rail together.

“Nate, can I get a Seven-Up?”

“And Tanya?” he asked, looking too cute for words.

“Tom Collins.”

Sabrina gave her a long look.

“What?” Tanya shrugged. “I’m done for the day. So are you.”

Someone walked by and jostled Sabrina. It set her stomach rumbling audibly, and she groaned.

Nate frowned with concern and slid her glass forward.

“Thanks.” Sabrina pounced on it, downing a third of the soft drink before pushing it away in alarm. “Oh, no. This isn’t good,” she said ominously. “I’ll be back.”

Sabrina fled, cutting around customers like a slalom skier as she headed for the bathroom. With the women’s restroom in sight, she poured on the speed, hoping she’d make it in time, praying there’d be an open stall or she was going to find herself puking into a sink.

At the most inopportune moment, the door to the men’s room opened and a man walked out, directly in Sabrina’s path.

“Watch out!” she yelled desperately but barreled into him anyway, knocking him back against the wall.

“No way,” Jackson whispered, rubbing the back of his head. He stared at the slowly closing door to the women’s restroom in shock. Was this some sort of sick twisted joke?

Three encounters with this female menace in a week? The universe was screwing with him, and he wasn’t amused. Somehow she’d gotten another crack at him, and this time she delivered, body-slamming him into the wall like a linebacker. Maybe he should consider upping his insurance—or outfitting her with a bell, something that would warn him when she was in the immediate area.

He snorted in disgust. What time did a person have to start drinking, anyway, to be that sick by six-thirty in the evening? The woman was a mess, a nuisance, an absolute disaster waiting to happen. He had half a mind to wait around and tear into her when she came back out.

Forget it. She wasn’t worth it. No way was he going to let that nutcase ruin his good mood.

Rejoining his friends, he found it impossible to listen to their conversation. He was too focused on the hallway leading to the restrooms. He turned his wrist and checked the time. Ten minutes? What the hell was she doing in there?

No, what was he doing? Why was he so concerned? More than likely she was passed out, that’s all. Except no one had gone in after her—what if she needed help? Suppose she fell and hit her head or something. She could be lying on the floor in a pool of vomit—the thought was both revolting and serious.

He really should bring it to someone’s attention before she died. He might loathe the very sight of her, but he sure as hell didn’t need her death on his conscience, either.

Decision made, he stood up. “Be right back.”

He walked directly to the bar and waved the bartender over.

The man looked at Jackson expectantly. “What can I get you?”

“Actually, I was wondering if you could send someone into the ladies’ room to check on a woman. She’s been in there quite a while, and she didn’t look good.”

The bartender glanced at the woman to Jack’s left. “Tanya?”

She eyed Jack slowly. “About my size, wearing a gray pullover?”

“That’s right.”

“Sabrina. I’ll check on her.”

“Sabrina?” he asked, following her along the bar and down the corridor.

“Yep. She’s my boss. She manages this place.”

“She shouldn’t drink on the job.”

Tanya laughed. “She doesn’t.”

“Could have fooled me.”

She smirked. “Not very astute, are you? I’ve got it. You can go now.”

She went in, leaving Jack to loiter around outside, unwilling to walk away until he knew whether he should summon an ambulance or something.

A few minutes later the two women emerged together. Sabrina looked decidedly pale and shaky, and her eyeliner was a bit smudged, but her friend was right, her eyes were clear and focused.

“Oh, god, not you again!” Sabrina groaned when she saw him.

Chafing at her reaction, especially considering the body slam, Jackson frowned. “And charming on top of everything else,” he said dryly. “Why am I surprised? It all fits somehow.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Guess.”

Sabrina’s face turned from pale to white, while Tanya’s interest tripled.

She looked him over more thoughtfully now, her lips twitching with amusement, and stuck out her hand. “Tanya Bergman.”

He shook it reluctantly. “Hi.”

Sabrina tugged impatiently on Tanya’s sleeve, but she shook her off. “Care to join us?”

“There’s no room at the inn,” Sabrina said flatly.

“Actually,” Jackson said, “I’m here with a party, and they’re probably wondering where I went.”

“Another time?” Tanya asked, ignoring the sharp glare from her friend.

“Doubtful,” he said, backing away.

“Pity,” Tanya said and meant it. Here she thought the night was starting to look up, though it would have been impossible to keep Sabrina in the cast.

There was a delicious tension between these two, and it was hostile as hell, with a swirling undercurrent of sexual attraction they both probably preferred to ignore. That didn’t mean she couldn’t have a little fun.

Contemplating his departure, Tanya nodded slowly. “So that’s your jogger.” Sabrina’s scowl prompted a smile in return. “You weren’t kidding about that ass. It’s scary perfect and insanely edible.”

“Tanya, please.”

“I’m just saying. If I wasn’t already practically engaged to Brian, I’d be looking in his direction myself.” Tanya glanced over and busted Sabrina staring, too. “You’re drooling, honey. Let’s go find you a napkin.”

“Funny.” But Sabrina wasn’t amused. She realized her trembles had nothing to do with weakness. This did not bode well.