Chapter 6
chapter
six
River Street bustled with Tuesday afternoon tourists.
Sunburned families strolled between gift shops.
College students clustered on benches with iced coffee cups sweating in the heat.
The Savannah River stretched dark and wide beyond the cobblestones, cargo ships sliding past like floating buildings.
Lawson arrived fifteen minutes early. Force of habit from years of stakeouts.
The River Café occupied prime real estate with outdoor tables shaded by striped umbrellas.
She claimed the corner table with her back to the wall.
Her gaze swept across every entry point, every shadow, every stranger who lingered too long.
Her phone buzzed. Text from Claire: Careful with Fiona. She's my sister, and I love her, but she usually has an angle.
Fiona Stevens appeared right on time. Navy linen pantsuit despite the August heat.
Hair pulled into a loose knot that somehow looked both effortless and expensive.
The Savannah Chronicle's star investigative reporter moved with the practiced confidence of someone accustomed to walking into rooms where she wasn't welcome.
"Detective." Fiona slid into the chair opposite Lawson. Her smile revealed teeth whitened beyond nature. "Thanks for meeting me."
"Your message suggested urgency." Lawson kept her voice neutral. "You wanted to talk about Leah Blackwell."
Fiona waved to a server before answering. "Iced tea, please. Unsweetened with lemon." Her gaze returned to Lawson. "Claire mentioned you heard the podcast."
"All of Savannah heard it." Lawson studied Fiona's face. Looking for tells. The slight eye movements that betrayed lies during interrogations. "Your text implied you had information."
The server delivered Fiona's tea and refilled Lawson's water glass. Fiona stirred three sweetener packets into her drink. A contradiction of her unsweetened order.
"Information might be too strong." Fiona took a careful sip. "Context might be more accurate."
"Context."
"Leah Blackwell and I attended a journalism conference in Atlanta last year. She presented on ethics in true crime reporting." Fiona's fingers traced patterns in the condensation on her glass. "Brilliant speaker. Law degree from Columbia. Turned down offers from top firms to chase cold cases."
"You sound impressed."
"Professional respect." Fiona leaned forward. "What she did with the Wallace case in Detroit was impressive. State reopened a twenty-year murder based on her investigation."
Lawson had researched Blackwell's work. The Wallace case had freed a man wrongfully convicted of killing his business partner. But Blackwell's methods had involved questionable source cultivation. Paying witnesses. Promising story control to families.
"She gets results." Lawson conceded this much.
"At any cost." Fiona's voice dropped lower. "Her legal background gives her an edge most crime reporters lack. She knows exactly how far she can push before crossing lines."
"Why are you telling me this?"
"Because your partner deserves justice." Fiona held Lawson's gaze. "But Blackwell cares about stories more than justice. You should know who you're dealing with."
Lawson thought about the Richardson conversation last night. His warning about being careful with Blackwell. Now, Fiona appeared with similar cautions. Coincidence seemed unlikely.
"The Dolores Bates story at the regatta last year." Lawson changed direction. "That was your story, right?"
Fiona straightened, pride flickering across her features. "I uncovered the connection between Dolores and her late husband's mistress. Proved her self-defense claim when nobody believed her."
"I remember." Lawson recalled the night everything unraveled. Claire had called her to help get a recorded confession. The mistress's son lured Fiona onto a boat after dark at gunpoint. Lawson had called in backup on short notice.
"You saved me trouble that night." Fiona's voice softened with what might have been genuine gratitude. "I never properly thanked you."
"No need. I was helping Claire."
"Still." Fiona leaned forward. "I know what it means to chase justice when others want to let sleeping dogs lie. Your partner deserves resolution." Her eyes brightened with familiar ambition. "Cold cases require fresh perspectives sometimes."
Lawson caught the subtext. Fiona was positioning herself as a potential ally. Or perhaps seeing another career-making story. "Is that why you wanted to meet? Professional interest in Monica's case?"
"I help people find truth. You help people find justice." Fiona spread her hands. "Our methods differ, but our goals align."
"Methods like obtaining sealed evidence?" Lawson held Fiona's gaze. "Radio calls from active investigations?"
Fiona's fingers stopped moving on her glass. "I didn't provide Blackwell with that recording."
"But you know who did."
"I have theories." Fiona sipped her tea. "Disgruntled officers. Administrative staff with access. Maybe someone with a grudge against you."
"Or a journalist looking for column inches."
Fiona set her glass down with careful precision. "That recording helps no one at the Chronicle. We focus on local politics. Business development. Community issues."
"Monica was local." Lawson kept her voice steady despite the surge of anger. "Her murder was a community issue."
"Which we covered extensively five years ago." Fiona folded her napkin into perfect quarters. "This podcast does nothing but reopen wounds for ratings."
"Unless it solves her murder."
"Is that what you think will happen?" Fiona leaned forward. "Blackwell finds what the entire Savannah PD couldn't?"
The question carried loaded implications. Either the department was incompetent or deliberately obstructive. Neither option reflected well on Lawson nor on her colleagues.
"You reached out to me." Lawson redirected. "Said it was important. Yet you haven't told me anything I don't already know about Blackwell."
Fiona glanced at her watch. "I thought you deserved a warning from someone who understands her methods."
"Methods like what?"
"She left law practice under unusual circumstances." Fiona's tone shifted. More casual. Too casual. "Makes you wonder why she really left law."
There it was. The real purpose of this meeting. Classic journalist technique that Lawson had encountered during dozens of investigations. Probe for information while pretending to provide it.
"Why did you really ask me here?" Lawson kept her gaze fixed on Fiona. "Claire already warned me about Blackwell. You have nothing new to add."
Fiona's smile tightened at the corners. "Professional courtesy. One woman looking out for another."
"We worked together once on the Dolores Bates situation." Lawson leaned forward. "Now suddenly we're girlfriends sharing warnings?"
"I thought after what happened at the regatta …" Fiona let the sentence trail off. "You helped me when things went sideways with that man. I wanted to return the favor."
"Again, that was a favor for Claire." Lawson watched Fiona's reaction. "This feels different."
"Different how?"
"Like you're fishing for something. A story angle. Your own cold case breakthrough."
Fiona gathered her purse. "This conversation has taken an unexpected turn."
"Has it?" Lawson remained seated. "You contacted me about a podcast that uses leaked evidence. Evidence only someone with department access could provide."
"I protect my sources." Fiona stood. "Always."
"Even when they break the law? Compromise investigations?"
"Especially then." Fiona adjusted her blazer. "The public deserves truth. Sometimes accessing that truth requires… flexibility."
"Flexibility." Lawson looked up at her. "Like paying for sealed evidence? Trading favors for confidential files?"
"I never said that." Fiona's voice hardened. "And you should be careful making accusations without proof."
"Not accusations. Questions." Lawson remained seated. Deliberate power move, letting Fiona stand alone. "Same questions I asked during the regatta case. Same questions I'm asking about Blackwell's podcast."
Fiona glanced around the café. Checking who might overhear. "This meeting was a mistake."
"Was it?" Lawson finally stood. "Or did you get exactly what you came for? Reaction quotes from Monica Landry's partner about the podcast? Background for your next front-page story?"
The flicker in Fiona's eyes confirmed it. This meeting had never been about warning Lawson. It had been reconnaissance. Information gathering disguised as friendly concern.
"The Chronicle will cover the podcast." Fiona admitted this much. "Public interest is too high to ignore it."
"And you wanted exclusive comments." Lawson nodded slowly. "Lead reporter angle while Blackwell gets national attention."
"I thought you might prefer speaking with someone who understands Savannah." Fiona's tone shifted to professional reporter mode. "Someone who remembers Monica."
"You didn't know her."
"I covered her funeral." Fiona's expression softened with practiced sympathy. "Three hundred officers in dress blues. Your eulogy moved many to tears."
The memory of that day sliced through Lawson. Standing at the podium while rows of uniforms blurred through tears. Reading words that could never capture who Monica had been. What they had meant to each other.
"Don't use her name to manipulate me." Lawson kept her voice low. "We're done here."
"When you're ready to tell your side, call me. Before Blackwell shapes the narrative beyond your control."
"Goodbye, Fiona."