Chapter 7
CHAPTER 7
Thursday morning
“I had a text from Stanley Harris,” Danni announced over breakfast. He wants to talk about my future trafficking articles at nine o’clock but wants me to come to the office. Do you think it’s safe to do that? Excelsior’s office is about five minutes from here.”
“I don’t see why not,” Patrick said, taking the last bite of the breakfast casserole he’d pulled from the freezer last night. Kristopher, to his surprise, had put together a nice fruit salad but had left the baking of the casserole to Patrick. It was a good man who knew his talents and limits. Watching Danni enjoy her meal, he wondered if she really did know how to cook or survived on microwave frozen dinners.
But she certainly knew how to dress. Her oversize russet sweater brought out the colors of her hair and added a golden depth to her eyes. Simple but sophisticated at the same time.
And beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. Breathe, man. Just breathe.
“As am I,” Kristopher said. “Since both your cars are at Roy’s Body Shop, I’m your chauffeur. As I should be. After I clean up the kitchen of course.”
“My turn to do that,” Danni announced. “I’ve not helped with the meals since we’ve been here, and I’d like to do that unless I’m banned from the kitchen?”
Kristopher laughed but Patrick affected a serious expression. “I’ll ask your editor what he knows about the level of your culinary skills. If you have any, that is. Then we’ll see.”
When the kitchen was clean, and they’d descended to the underground garage, Kristopher drove the short distance to Excelsior’s office in downtown Knoxville. Christmas decorations hung from streetlamps and the streets were already crowded with pedestrians who lived downtown and walked to work as well as shoppers. Christmas was almost here.
An unexpected apprehension curled over Danni, and she shivered. The holiday crowded streets matched the scenario when she’d been with Leo just days ago and the apprehension turned to sadness, knowing she would not be spending Christmas with him this year.
But please dear God. Let her be spending it with Sara.
“Are you okay,” Patrick whispered under Andy Williams’ rendition of It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year pouring from the radio.
She patted his gloved hand. “I’m fine. Turn here please, Kristopher. That’s the service entrance and we’re not as likely to be seen here than if we went through the front door.”
“That sounds like a safe plan,” Kristopher said, maneuvering the car in that direction. When he’d stopped, he asked, “Should I wait here?”
Patrick looked at Danni. “Your call,” he said.
“We’ll text you,” Danni decided. “I’m not sure how long we’ll be but hopefully not all morning.”
“You got it,” Kristopher agreed and when they’d exited the car, he drove away. At the back entrance, Danni opened the door with her keyed ID card and led the way through a labyrinth of hallways to an elevator that quickly took them to the newspaper’s top floor. Anne Hamilton was waiting for them.
“Didn’t expect to see you,” Danni said after they’d exchanged hugs.
“Blame your BP dude here,” Anne laughed. “He texted me this morning about your visit and I’ve been wanting to see you. C’mon. There’s someone I want you to meet.”
Danni frowned at her ‘dude.’ “You didn’t tell me you did that.”
His slow grin was a toe-curling thing. “A trick I learned from Griff Tyler. The ability to surprise comes in handy.”
“I’ll bet,” she chuckled as they followed Anne through the familiar newsroom and Danni waved and called back her colleagues’ greetings. Even though her work here was only part-time, the Excelsior staff had always welcomed her and made her feel like she was part of their family.
Family. How terribly important family was. Especially if you really didn’t have any.
But then they were in Stanley’s office and to Danni’s delight, Mac was there, along with a woman Anne introduced as Elaine Prescott.
“I’ve been hoping you might agree to an interview about your experience last month,” Danni said as they shook hands. “That is, when and if you feel up to it.”
“I’m good with that,” Elaine said. With her white-blonde hair, she was one of the most stunning women Danni had ever seen. “And I’ve read the series you’ve been doing,” she added. “It’s spot on with what I learned the hard way while looking for my cousin Chelsea last month.”
“Where’s Stanley?” Danni asked as they gathered around the large round table in the center of the office.
“Checking on the pastries and seeing to the Blue Mountain coffee I told him he’d better have since Patrick was sure to be with you,” Elaine laughed. “How are you, Patrick?”
“Just happy to be here,” he answered. “Where’s Griff hiding?”
Elaine shrugged but she was smiling. “He’s designing a website for an author friend who is hopelessly technologically challenged, but he said to tell you ‘hey’.”
“Ah, we’re all together in one place, I see.” Stanley Harris entered pushing a large cart with a tray of pastries, coffee urns and cups. “Help yourself everyone. The urn with the blue handle is the Blue Mountain.”
After they served themselves, and took their places at the table, Harris said, “OK, Danni, let’s hear about your ideas for future stories.”
“Well,” Danni said, “I didn’t know they would be here, but I’d like to interview Anne and Elaine on how the kidnapping of their family members impacted them. My other stories have been more fact-driven, with some human interests, but no interviews with people affected by the abductions. Their two cases have hit close to home because Knoxville is home.”
“I’d be glad to do it,” Anne declared.
“Me too,” Elaine agreed. “I’ve got a couple of things to clear from my calendar, but I could do it next week.”
“And what keeps the Lady Elaine so busy?” Patrick teased. He’d developed a great affection for her when he’d helped her, and Griff Tyler track down her long missing cousin and a group of young girls, also long missing, last month. He’d heard she was now acting director for Families United after the former acting head was arrested for trafficking kids, possessing kiddie porn and Lord only knew what else.
“Well, last week I was asked to head the local chapter of Tennessee Task Force–” Elaine began.
“Hey, that’s great!” Mac said “Congratulations!”
“Yeah, but I turned them down.”
“Why?” Anne demanded. “You’d be perfect for it!”
“Wait a minute,” Danni pleaded. “Tennessee Task Force?” Patrick watched her dig in her purse for a pen and pad of paper. “What’s that?”
“An organization that was founded this past early spring,” Elaine explained. “Originally it was to be called The Southeastern Alliance for Finding Missing and Exploited Children, but some very wise person thought that name was way too long to remember or put on letterhead–stop laughing, Mac–so it was shortened to Tennessee Task Force.”
“Makes sense,” Danni agreed. “Is it up and running yet?”
“Almost.” Elaine’s sigh was one of relief. “It’s been a challenge to pull together a multitude of agencies and organizations across the state. And of course, too many wanted to be the one with the last word. Late last month, it was decided to break the agency into three geographic regions, East, Middle, and West, each one working with the counties in their regions, with one director over them. More efficient, less headaches.”
“Sort of like how the Episcopal church in Tennessee divides itself,” Anne put in. “Three regions, East, Middle, West with one bishop for each region. Three bishops but one church. Very practical and efficient.”
“That’s my cradle Episcopalian talking,” Mac praised, leaning over to kiss her cheek. “Smart and pretty. Don’t you love her?”
“According to what I’ve been told, there were a lot of people and agencies jockeying for leadership positions who had lots of different ideas on how to run things,” Elaine continued. “That’s what’s taken so long. But the final details have been worked out and Tennessee Task Force will be officially up and running on the second day of the New Year.”
“So why aren’t you accepting the Directorship for this region?” Mac asked. “Like Anne said, you’d be perfect.”
Elaine grinned as she stripped off her gloves and held out her left hand. A large diamond ring sparkled from her third finger. “Because I’ve no intention of starting my married life doing a job with crazy hours.”
Patrick shot out of his chair to envelop her in an enormous hug. “That’s wonderful,” he choked. “Really wonderful. Considering what we went through together, I should kill Griff for not even dropping a hint.”
Elaine kissed him on the cheek. “We thought you would have guessed it,” she teased. “But thanks.”
“What’s all this?” a voice boomed from the doorway as Excelsior’s owner, Duncan Friedman, ambled into the room. Stanley Harris stood, and Danni put her pad away.
“Good morning,” Mr. Friedman,” Stanley greeted and the familiar dislike for the man crawled over Danni. Friedman liked to appear when things were going well to take credit for the newspaper’s ongoing success and everyone who worked there knew it.
Just like everyone knew that Stanley Harris was the driving force behind that success. Anne Hamilton, Danni knew, despised Friedman and her first loyalty was to Harris. Danni had tried to form her own opinion of the man, but he was too smooth, too charming and a one hundred percent phony. But like Anne, Danni would smile and stay out of Friedman’s way.
“We were discussing Danni’s new articles about trafficking,” Stanley explained, after introducing Elaine and then Patrick and Mac as friends. “Something to give a more human spin on what’s been happening in the community.”
“Really?” Friedman stifled a yawned. “What does she have in mind?”
“Anne has agreed to let me interview her about her experience, focusing on the return of her niece and the other kids,” Danni explained. Friedman was so “hands off” in his approach to running Excelsior, she wasn’t sure if he even knew of Anne’s abduction, no matter how brief. That was Anne’s story to tell, and her own article about the return of her niece had not included it.
And for some strange reason, Danni felt the need to not mention interviewing Elaine to Friedman. Like Anne, there’d been no mention of her abduction in the press, and she might have wanted to talk to her fiancé first.
“Hmm.” Friedman considered. “Wanting to keep the public’s attention on a very serious problem, do we, Ms. Blake?”
“Yes sir,” Danni said. “Both Anne and Ms. Prescott have experienced having young family members taken and then found. I think the public needs to hear their stories, if anything, to keep other kids and teens safe and make the public aware of the threat to our community.”
“It’s not exactly Christmas reading, is it?” Friedman frowned. “Aren’t there other human-interest stories you could do? Toy drives for orphans or homeless pets getting forever homes or something upbeat like that?”
“We’ve received lots of letters praising Danni’s coverage of human trafficking,” Stanley said quietly. “And circulation has gone up by five percent since we printed her articles.”
“Sensation sells?” Friedman quipped and Danni choked back the sour taste in her throat. “Is that why we’re doing this?”
“No, sir,” Stanley said evenly. “The public is worried for their kids. They want to be kept informed and we want to help with that if we can.”
“I might try to reach out to parents who have children still missing, after Christmas,” Danni said, unwilling to give up just yet. “After what’s happened recently, they might want their stories told too if just on the chance someone knows something. It might offer them some hope.”
“Sounds like a lot of work,” Friedman commented. “Don’t you have enough to do as it is with your court reporting?”
“If writing about trafficking in Tennessee helps find my goddaughter Sara Turner, I don’t care how much work it is,” Danni retorted, not caring if it offended Friedman or not.
“Sara Turner is your goddaughter?” Friedman shoved his well-tended hands into his overcoat pockets. “I didn’t know that.”
“I’m not letting the public know it,” Danni said and did not bother to keep the defiant note from her voice. “But they already know she’s missing. I want to keep the stories going so, like the others, if someone knows something, they might come forward. Maybe that’s selfish of me but short of murder, I’ll do whatever it takes to find Sara.”
An unfriendly glitter entered Friedman’s eyes, and Danni recalled one of the unspoken rules Anne had told her about working at Excelsior. Don’t argue with the owner. Duncan Friedman was a “spoiled brat” who came from money and saw the newspaper–one he’d inherited five years ago from his late father who founded it–as his personal toy to play with whenever he wanted and leave alone when he wanted.
And he did not like to be challenged by his staff. Particularly newer female staff. He was, Anne told Danni, a “good old-fashioned male chauvinist pig.”
But Danni kept her gaze fixed on his face. They were talking about her articles helping to find Sara and she would not back down, even to Friedman. Tension rippled around the room like the throbbing of heavy summer air just before a storm broke. You could, as her late father would say, “cut it with a butter knife.”
“Well,” Friedman said, finally breaking the silence. “Do the interview with Anne and we’ll see about the other. Good day to you all.”
He strolled away, like a child confident of his favorite shiny toy still being there when he came back for it. After his departure, the assembled looked at one another and as a group, exhaled. “Well,” Anne said finally. “How do we follow that?”
“We don’t,” Stanley said, and Anne nodded.
A ringtone from Danni’s purse filled in the need for another comment. Taking out her phone, she glanced at the screen and her heart shot forward. Standing, she said, “Please excuse me, everyone. I need to take this.”
She fled to her office, phone in hand, barely aware that Patrick was right behind her until they were inside.
“What’s happened?” he asked, shutting the door as Danni hit the phone’s accept button.
“It’s Mrs. M., Sara’s housekeeper,” Danni told him. “Her text said that she needs to talk to me about Sara.” She quickly dialed the woman’s number. “Mrs. M? It’s Danni.”