Scoop (33 page)

Ray continued. “Though no one was seriously injured in the explosion last week, questions remain about the cause of the explosion. Plant spokesman Ron Griffith attributed the blast to human error, but our investigation uncovered an unlikely error: greed.”

“Roll tape,” Willis said.

And then the control-room phone rang. An assistant in the back answered it and announced, “Mr. Talley, it’s Trent.”

“Trent?” Hugo rushed to the phone. “Trent, what’s wrong? Your segment’s up in eight minutes.”

“I know…sir, there’s been a shooting at the mall, and I wasn’t sure if I should—”

Hugo looked up and the control-room door opened. Roarke stood in the doorway, and Hugo had never seen that shade of gray on a human being before. “Roarke?”

“No sir, it’s Trent. I’m at the mall and there’s—”

“Cover it if you’ve got enough info,” Hugo said into the phone.

“But sir, I’m not sure how to—if I should talk about the Christmas decorations and—I’ve never done something like this with so little time—”

“Handle it,” Hugo said, and he hung up the phone. He glanced at the monitor as he rushed toward Roarke. Ray’s piece was still running. “Roarke? Are you okay?”

Roarke went from gray to white, and his eyes seemed unfocused.

“Roarke? Talk to me. What’s wrong?”

“Can you step outside?” Roarke whispered.

Hugo glanced at Willis, whose focus had left the monitors. Hugo gestured for him to pay attention to his job and then stepped outside the control room. “What is it?”

“Channel 10 just finished their lead story.”

“About Gilda, right?”

“Yeah.”

“So what’d they say?”

Roarke blinked slowly, and for a moment Hugo thought he might pass out. “What’s wrong? What’d they say?”

“Well, it pretty much went down like this. They reported that the police went to Gilda’s condo after they received a complaint that she had been missing for several days and had not reported into work as she normally would.”

“And?”

“They found that the back-door lock had been picked, but the condo
seemed relatively undisturbed, and no clothes or suitcases appeared to be missing. Everything seemed in order and there were no signs of a struggle.”

Hugo smiled. “And that’s what they led with? We’re running a story about how the wastewater treatment plant’s director has an embezzlement history and that he owns the company that supplied the chemical that may have caused the explosion, and that’s all they’ve got? Beautiful!” Hugo slapped his hands together. His gut was paying off.

“Uh…”

“What?”

“There’s a little bit more.”

“Okay.” Hugo couldn’t imagine anything that would trump his sewage plant card.

“They, um, well, they also found something else. A small thing, really. I mean, I think they’re blowing it way out of proportion. You know how Channel 10 always embellishes to make things sound more dramatic than they—”

“Roarke, what did they report?”

“Something about some letters.”

“Some letters? What letters?”

Roarke started turning gray again. “Love letters.”

Love letters? Hugo was trying hard to understand, but none of this was making sense. “What are you saying?”

“The police found some love letters from someone to Gilda. And according to the police, they’re focusing their investigation on whoever might’ve sent them.”

Hugo rolled his eyes. “For crying out loud. They’re going to make this into some lurid love triangle? What nonsense! What, did they quote some anonymous source?”

“They quoted Captain Wynn.”

“How did that happen? We were supposed to get the quote from Captain Wynn!”

Roarke looked unable to breathe, let alone answer.

“That’s it! I’m calling Channel 10 this instant! This is ridiculous! I am not going to put up with their attempts to smear us during sweeps week!”

“Uh…you don’t have to call. They’re still outside, and they don’t look like they’re going anywhere fast.”

“What do you mean?”

“They’re not packing up. They still have their camera set up and they’re just standing out there.”

Hugo walked in circles, unsure of what to do. The door to the control room opened and an assistant said, “Willis needs you. Now.”

Hugo walked in to find Willis gesturing toward a monitor that showed Trent. “What is he doing?” Willis asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Listen.”

“…in front of Sneaker Sneaker, next to a large display of Santa and eight tiny reindeer. The manager of the store said he didn’t…um”—Trent looked down at his notes—“didn’t hear anything, but that he…saw people…they were running…screams…well, one lady screamed…and then…okay, let’s see what happened here. One lady screamed, and then, yes, then some people snuck behind the Santa into Sneaker Sneaker, thinking they were going to—well, I can’t say what they were thinking because I wasn’t there, but I am coming to you live now…anyway, with the account from the…”

“Tell Dale to have him wrap up!” Hugo barked, and Willis ordered the cameraman to give Trent his signal. Trent, however, wasn’t even looking at the camera. He was flipping through his notes.

“…anyway, so they all came into the store, and not to buy sneakers, allegedly, I mean…and…”

“Tell Dale to give him the signal again!”

Willis ordered it, but Trent had yet to look up at the camera. The crowd now gathered behind Trent, however, noticed it and they were all
staring at the cameraman, probably wondering what he was doing with his finger over his head.

“…and the manager tells me that there was a lot of chaos and that people were screaming…well, again, it was the one lady, but she sounded like several people…and so then, it turns out, what they thought was a gun sound was just a blow-up snow globe that popped. Incidentally, that snow globe was erected on November 15.”

Trent finally looked up at the camera, saw Dales signal, and with wide eyes said, “Uh, back to you.”

Willis cut to Tate, and for the first time ever, that stupid little smirk looked appropriate. Tate seemed at a loss for what to say. Willis cut to the wide shot, and Hayden stepped in to fill in the silence. “All right. Thank you, Trent. We’re so glad everyone’s okay. They sound like they had quite a scare. Is the woman who screamed okay?”

“No! Not back to Trent!” Hugo lamented. But Willis had no choice, and he cut to Trent. “I told Hayden to stop asking reporters questions!”

“She’s fine,” Trent managed, doing his best to look calm and collected.

“All right. Trent, thanks for that report.” She turned to Tate. “And sounds like we’ve got some more cold weather moving into the state tomorrow.”

“That’s what I hear,” Tate said. “How about it, Sam?”

Hugo walked outside the control room, gulping air. His chest felt like it was going to explode. He went to the bathroom and splashed water on his face. His mind was spinning with one scenario after another. Thoughts bounced around the walls of his brain like a handful of small rubber balls.

Back in the hallway, he glanced out a window and saw the back end of Channel 10’s van still sitting there.
Why in the world were they sticking around?

Hugo’s stomach cramped and he moaned as he backed himself against the wall. There was something to be said for numbness.

Ray finished his segment. It had gone really well. He’d never felt so good about anything he’d ever done. He was covering real news with a real impact on people’s lives. Suddenly the eight stitches in his head seemed worth it.

He’d decided to watch the rest of the news on the floor, and during a commercial had given Hayden a big thumbs-up, hoping to encourage her. She seemed a little nervous but was handling herself well.

During the break after the weather segment she’d said, “Am I looking upbeat enough?”

Ray laughed. He wasn’t sure she was capable of looking downbeat.

“You’re doing wonderfully,” he said, gleeful enough for a couple of the cameramen to exchange glances and laugh. Ray didn’t care if they laughed at him. She was great enough for him to endure it.

As sports came on, he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned to find Roarke, who immediately pulled him away. Ray followed him into the break room, and to his surprise, Roarke locked the door. Ray didn’t even know you could lock the break room door.

“What’s the matter?”

“They found the letters!”

“What letters?”

“The love letters! They found them!”

“Who?”

“The police, Ray! The police!”

“Okay, calm down. Tell me what’s going on—”

“What’s going on is that this will be a huge story! Channel 10 just reported it and said the police are focusing their attention on the writer of those letters.” Roarke’s face turned red. “This is your fault!”

“My fault?”

“You’re the one who had to know if Gilda was connected to Petey Green.”

“I never asked you to go to Gilda’s house.”

“You knew I would!”

“I did not! It didn’t even cross my mind!”

“You have no idea how bad this is. They’re going to figure out it’s me, and I’m going to get the chair!”

“Roarke, calm down, man. Seriously, I think you’re overreacting. First of all, how are they going to link the letters to you?”

“They’re all handwritten!”

“But you didn’t sign your name.”

“No.”

“So why would they suspect you?”

“I didn’t leave behind any fingerprints in her condo. I wore gloves when I was inside.”

“See…”

“But all those gifts I left her! They have my fingerprints all over them!”

“Roarke, calm down. You’re getting yourself worked up over something that hasn’t even happened yet. This is reality, not one of those television crime dramas. And there’s no indication whatsoever that the police are looking for you. Or that they’ve called in forensics.” Ray paused, letting his friend catch his breath. “I suspect your conscience is bothering you, and you’re better off going to the police and explaining why you went to her condo.”

“Are you crazy? Why would I do something like that? They’re going to take one look at this big, fat guy and make the assumption that I was desperate for her affections and decided to kidnap and kill her.”

“Why would they assume that?”

“People assume a lot of things about fat people, Ray. You should try walking in my shoes for a day.”

“Look, first of all, I can back up everything you tell the police.”

“Oh yeah? You want me to tell them I was breaking into her condo to gather evidence on your sewage plant story?”

“I never asked you to do that.”

“Well, that’s why I was there.”

“I thought you were there to check on her.”

“That too.”

Ray sighed. “Okay, let’s just lay low about this, okay? Chances are nothing will happen and Gilda will turn up, and it will all be over.”

“Since when did you become an optimist? That Hazard chick has done a number on you.”

Beneath his remarks Ray knew Roarke was scared. “Let’s go to my apartment, watch the shows I TiVoed like we always do, and relax.”

Roarke sighed. “Maybe you’re right. I’ve watched those cop shows for too long.”

Ray smiled. “Maybe we should start watching reality TV shows.”

“Dude, this is no time for jokes.” Roarke breathed in deeply and let it out. “I saw all those letters when I was in her condo, you know. They were in a drawer in her kitchen, bundled up with a rubber band around a paper weight I gave her. She’d kept all of them. That says something, right, Ray? That means she took them seriously, that they meant something to her.”

“I think so, buddy. She could’ve just as easily trashed them.”

Roarke grinned and slapped Ray on the back. “My place tonight. Supreme or sausage?”

“You pick, my friend.”

Roarke unlocked the door and walked out, stopping midstride. Ray ran right into his back, bounced off, and nearly fell to the ground.

“Roarke, what are you—” Ray stepped to the side to see why Roarke had stopped in his tracks.

Four uniformed police officers and two detectives were walking into the news station, followed by Heather Lewis and a Channel 10 camera.

H
ugo gathered up his belongings in his office. Things were such a mess that he hardly knew where to begin. But maybe that was a good thing, because he couldn’t do anything about it tonight. He turned off his cell phone. He knew Chad would be calling to complain, and Hugo thought there was a real possibility that he might get fired.

But before that, he had to go home to see if he was getting divorced. He’d promised his wife he would be home after work, and lucky for her, the last place he wanted to be was work, so it was a no-brainer.

Of course, he was starting to feel the same way about home.

He’d searched his desk drawer one more time for his pills, but they were nowhere to be found. Well, why not just go with it? What did he have to lose, really?

He put his coat on and snapped his briefcase closed. He stacked all his folders together and put his pencils away. A sadness engulfed him as he tidied up. He could remember a day, not long ago, when he loved work and work loved him. But it was also just work, and it brought home a paycheck to feed and diaper his daughter. Now it had become a part of him, like an extra organ or extremity. What if it was cut off? How would he survive?