Chapter Fourteen #2
His grin widened. “I wouldn't worry about that—I'm sure she's already forgotten all about it. We should be out of here by five, and we’ll stop at the grocery store on the way home. Why don't you meet us at the beach house at six?”
“Why don't I save you the trouble and go to the grocery store myself? I'll meet you around five thirty then.”
He leaned against the wall outside the conference room, liking that she’d jumped right in without hesitation. “If you don't mind, that’d be great. I’ll call if we’re going to be late. Otherwise, I’ll see you at five-thirty.”
After they said goodbye, Sean lowered the phone and found himself staring at the blank screen for a moment, still hearing her voice. The thought of seeing her later lifted his spirits.
The ladies’ room door opened, and Suki stepped into the hallway, stopping in front of him. “Are you sure you don't mind me staying one more night?”
“Not at all. I'd really like you to get to know Grace anyway. She’s having dinner with us tonight at the beach house.”
A knowing smile crossed Suki’s face. “I like her already—I think she's good for you.”
He held open the door to the conference room for her. “So do I. Let’s get back to work and catch this bastard so I can spend the rest of my vacation getting to know her a lot better.”
Jessica Daly hung up the phone and smiled as she leaned back in her chair. Her source at the sheriff’s department had delivered exactly what she needed.
The newsroom buzzed around her with ringing phones, clacking keyboards, and the steady murmur of reporters chasing their own stories, but she barely noticed. Her attention stayed fixed on the prize now within reach. Once again, she had managed to out-scoop every other reporter in the county.
By the time those badge-wearing fools caught this killer, she’d already have leveraged this story into another raise.
Maybe more than that. Maybe this would finally be the break that landed her the anchor position on the six o’clock news—the chair she’d been working toward since the first day she’d stepped into a newsroom.
If she had access to everything the detectives were holding back, she was certain she could solve the case herself.
She had instincts most reporters would kill for and a gift for getting people to talk.
Over the years, she’d built an impressive network of informants, people willing to share what they knew for the right amount of attention, persuasion, or flattery.
Most of them were men, which made the job laughably easy.
They were so predictable. A low neckline and a well-placed smile usually loosened their tongues faster than any direct question ever could.
Glancing at the wall clock above the assignment board, she noted the time. It was a little after three. That gave her barely an hour before she needed to be in front of the camera and have her report taped in time for the five-thirty deadline.
She snatched up her desk phone and punched in Marty Kendall’s cell phone. “Get your gear ready and meet me at the news van in twenty minutes. And don’t be late,” she barked before hanging up.
Marty had a chronic problem with punctuality, one she’d long since stopped tolerating. Half the time, she suspected he dragged his feet just to irritate her. It wouldn’t matter much longer. This serial killer story was her way off the street and into the anchor chair, where she belonged.
Her gaze drifted out the window as she considered her options for where to film the segment. The sheriff’s department was too predictable. The last crime scene lacked visual punch. The bar where Daphne Jones disappeared had possibilities, but it wasn’t strong enough.
The medical examiner’s office. That was the one. Clinical. Stark. Ominous. Perfect.
Turning to her computer, she began typing out exactly what she intended to say. The words came fast, each line crafted for maximum impact.
This was going to be huge. Career-making huge.
At ten to four, the news van rolled into the parking lot of the municipal building that housed the Dare County medical examiner’s office.
Cloud cover softened the late-afternoon light, and Jessica approved at once.
Bright sun washed her out on camera and made her skin look pale.
This muted gray cast would work far better.
Flipping down the passenger visor, she checked her reflection in the mirror and adjusted a strand of hair before touching up her lipstick.
Marty killed the engine. As he started to climb out, she turned toward him. “Hurry and get everything set. I want this filmed and ready for the top of the six.”
Landing the lead story was a battle every street reporter fought, and tonight’s lineup was already hers.
Marty muttered something under his breath, but Jessica ignored him. He might be slow, irritating, and perpetually sour, but he was also the best cameraman at Channel Four. That alone made him worth tolerating. As long as he made her look good on camera, she could overlook the rest.
After applying another layer of powder for the lights, she stepped out of the van and strode toward the front entrance, leaving Marty to wrestle the camera and equipment from the back.
The municipal building rose behind her in cold slabs of concrete and glass, the Dare County Medical Examiner sign mounted beside the entrance in clean black lettering.
She studied several possible angles before choosing her spot just to the left of the sign.
It gave the right visual weight without blocking the frame.
Perfect.
A glance over her shoulder showed Marty taking his time. Again.
“Hurry up, will you? I want to make sure we get this right.”
He muttered “witch” under his breath but made no effort to move faster. She dismissed it—she couldn’t care less what he thought about her. He was nothing more than a stepping stone in her career.
He disliked working with her, and the feeling was mutual, but she’d insisted he remain assigned to her shoots because no one framed a shot better. He’d complained to his supervisor more than once, but management knew results mattered more than personalities. And Jessica delivered results.
“Stand over there—I want this angle.” She pointed to the exact position she wanted as he handed her the microphone emblazoned with the bold CH4 logo.
Whatever his personal feelings, she knew what made strong television. His two regional filming awards were proof enough of what they accomplished together, though he’d never once acknowledged how much of that success came from her direction.
He hoisted the camera onto his shoulder, made a final adjustment, and gave her the signal.
Jessica drew herself up, squared her shoulders, and slipped on the expression viewers trusted—the composed, serious face of a reporter delivering hard truths. Holding the microphone just below her chin, she began.
“This is Jessica Daly for the evening news, reporting to you from the Dare County Medical Examiner’s Office with a Channel Four exclusive.
Investigations into the strangling deaths of three county women continue.
At this time, local law enforcement has very few leads.
Sources inside the Dare County Sheriff’s Department report… ”