Emmett (R.I.S.C. Echo Team #1)

Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

Washington D.C.

“We want you, Ms. Reynolds. Your hard work, perseverance, and frankly, the bravery you showed taking on the administration of a city the size of St. Louis was more than a little impressive. The offer in your hands should give you an idea of just how serious we are about bringing you onto our staff.”

Janie Reynolds sat across from the editorial director of the Washington Post’s Investigative Unit and smiled.

Fifteen years her senior, David Ellis’ beard and wavy hair were matching shades of silver.

The black-framed glasses resting on the bridge of his nose were a stark contrast but seemed to fit the man’s style and personality perfectly.

“Thank you, Mr. Ellis.” She glanced down at the plain business envelope secured in her grip.

With her attention returning to the man who’d spent the last thirty minutes trying to convince her to accept the offer she had yet to see, Janie added, “I’d like to take a few days to think about it, if that’s all right with you. ”

“Absolutely.” The middle-aged man pushed himself away from his desk before rising to his feet. “But not too long, I hope.”

“Of course not.” She stood, keeping the sealed envelope in her left hand. “My return flight isn’t for a couple more days. I’ll have an answer for you before then.”

“Excellent.” He motioned toward his door. “Until then, I do hope you’ll have a chance to see all our wonderful city has to offer.”

Janie nodded as she made her way across the office to the door that had remained shut during their private discussion.

“Oh, yes. As a matter of fact”—she glanced at her watch—"I have a tour of the White House scheduled for later this afternoon, and then tomorrow, I’m taking the trolley tour around the city to see all the major monuments.

” Tendrils of excitement ran through her.

“Hopefully I’ll have enough time to fit in a quick visit to the National Archives.

I’ve always wanted to see the Constitution in person. ”

Ellis grinned as he reached out and opened the door. “You can take pictures of it now, you know? That didn’t used to be allowed. Just make sure you turn off your flash before you do, or security will promptly escort you back outside.”

“Oh, of course.” Janie smiled, not hesitating to be the first to offer her hand. “Thanks again, Mr. Ellis. It was very nice meeting you.”

“Likewise, Ms. Reynolds.” The two shook hands. “I look forward to hearing from you regarding your decision.”

“I’ll be in touch.”

She stepped out into the open walkway that framed the perimeter of the building’s ninth floor. The entire center section was open, lined with a four-foot, glass wall to prevent a tragic fall to one of the paper’s primary hubs.

Looking down over the half-wall’s metal ledge, Janie spotted a bustle of activity among those employed by the paper’s devoted editorial staff. She wondered what it would be like to be one of the team. To work for one of the top-selling newspapers in the world.

Is that what you want? To be dutifully employed by someone other than yourself?

Her gaze fell to the blank envelope that had become slightly crinkled in her tightening grasp. For a brief moment, she considered opening it right then. She was curious to see just how serious David Ellis was about making her part of his staff. But Janie vetoed the decision almost instantly.

She hadn’t gotten where she was by being impatient or impulsive. Okay, so maybe she’d been a little impulsive in the past. But the Washington Post had reached out to her, not the other way around. And that meant she was the one holding all the cards.

With her focus returning to the plans she had for the remainder of her day, Janie pushed herself off the glass wall’s edge and continued the short walk to the elevators up ahead.

Unlike David Ellis’ more private office space, the rooms she passed along the way boasted doors and walls made almost entirely of glass.

The people inside worked away as if no one was watching. Like a school of fish trapped inside the walls of an inescapable tank.

You’re doing it again.

Janie reached the elevator and pushed the button a bit harder than was absolutely necessary.

She ignored her inner voice, refusing to admit that it was right. That she was already starting to pick the place apart before she’d ever made it out of the building.

I’m not picking the place apart. I’ve just never been a fan of glass walls.

She’d also never been a big fan of bosses who told her which stories she was allowed to pursue. And then there was the whole co-worker situation. Getting to know them and trying to figure out which ones she could trust.

You can’t trust any of them, Janie. Remember how the game is played.

The elevator dinged and the shiny metal doors slid open, welcoming her inside. With the cart otherwise empty, she stepped inside and pushed the button to take her down to the main lobby. Minutes later, Janie was rounding her way through the building’s revolving door.

The spring air was crisp, and there was a noticeable chill. But she’d take D.C.’s fifty-eight degrees over the late snowfall expected to hit Missouri by later tonight. Good thing she still had a few days to go before her return flight home.

A cool breeze blew past, lifting the ends of Janie’s hair, sending the long brunette locks flying in front of her face. She was in the process of brushing the thick strands from her eyes when someone bumped into her… Hard.

“Oh!” Janie barely managed not to completely tumble over and fall to the ground.

Her purse wasn’t quite so lucky.

The modest-sized leather bag flew from her shoulder and smacked the sidewalk below. Its snap enclosure broke free, spilling nearly the entire contents of the purse. Random items she’d been carrying with her scattered across the concrete in an embarrassing display.

“Ohmygosh!” A young blonde woman who appeared to be about a decade younger than Janie’s thirty-six years immediately dropped down and began collecting the various items. “I’m so sorry. I was so lost in my thoughts I didn’t even see you until it was too late.”

“It’s okay.” Janie squatted beside the chagrined blonde with a smile. “No harm done.”

They worked together to gather Janie’s wallet, keys, lip balm, a tampon, and a travel-sized bottle of vanilla-scented body spray. The young woman picked up the last item on the ground—Janie’s generic plastic badge that was white with black bold lettering that read Press Pass.

Some of the venues and events required she and the other reporters use ones they provided.

Others allowed reporters to display the badges they received from the specific news outlet where they worked.

And some, though not many, accepted those like the one the blonde was still holding tightly in her hands.

“Thank you.” Janie held out her hand and waited for the woman to hand over the badge.

Rather than immediately return it, the pretty blonde kept the thin plastic rectangle pinched between her fingers. The bright red lanyard hung loosely in a loop from its metal clasp while eyes the color of the ocean rose to meet hers.

“You’re . . . a reporter?”

She was skittish, that much was obvious. But there was also interest there. It was a look Janie had seen often. One that screamed desperation and fear.

“I am,” she confirmed the woman’s suspicions with a nod. “Is that why you’re here?” Janie gave a quick glance at the building behind her. “Did you come to the Post to speak to a reporter?”

“I was hoping to, but . . .” The blonde shook her head before releasing a sigh and pushing herself back up to her feet. “It’s probably stupid. I-I don’t even have an appointment. And even if I did, I doubt anyone in there will actually listen to what I have to say.”

A familiar churning began to swirl around inside Janie’s gut. It was the same feeling she got when a source was about to reveal something useful.

“I’d listen,” she offered softly. “But for the record, I don’t work for the Post.”

“You don’t?” The blonde’s shoulders seemed to fall a smidge. “Oh. I’m sorry. I thought—”

“I work freelance,” Janie shared. “I just got out of a meeting with the editorial director for the Post’s Investigative Unit.”

It was often necessary to give something of herself if she expected others to do the same. A lesson she’d learned very early on in her career.

“Oh. I see.”

“Listen, I have another appointment coming up soon, but I’d be happy to meet up with you sometime. If you feel comfortable sharing with a complete and total stranger, that is.” Janie sent her a friendly smile.

“I prefer that, actually.” The pretty blonde scoffed, but then glanced around nervously, as if to ensure none of the passersby were listening to their conversation.

“But I don’t know. This is all just so .

. .” She paused, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth with a quick shake of her head.

“I’m probably blowing things way out of proportion, and I don’t want to waste your time or cause any trouble.

Especially for me.” She scoffed. “Especially if I’m wrong. ”

“Wrong about what?”

Come on. At least give me something I can start with.

When those big, blue eyes returned to hers once more, the woman’s fear was unmistakable.

Going another route, Janie kept a softened tone as she asked, “What’s your name? I’m Janie.” She offered the girl her free hand.

“Amy.” There was a moment of hesitation before the blonde returned the gesture. “My name is Amy Weaver. I’m . . .” Another short pause. “I-I’m an intern with the White House Press Office.”

Janie’s heart gave a noticeable kick, but she kept her expression schooled like a pro.