On a Deadline (By the Byline #1)

Chapter 1

One

Jamie Garrison sighed as she clicked through the dozens of unopened emails in her inbox.

Her green eyes felt tired behind the mascara she’d touched up at noon, and a strand of blonde hair kept slipping from behind her ear no matter how often she pushed it back.

Most were spam, some were press releases from local businesses, and some were just weird.

One man, Ernie, sent about six emails daily, all of varying degrees of insanity.

Jamie found some semblance of amusement as she skimmed through Ernie’s emails; this time he was rambling on about his parents’ emigration to the States back in the seventies.

She always chuckled at the attached images, usually of Ernie standing and holding a small American flag.

Of all the viewer emails she got, Ernie’s at least managed to keep her entertained.

She wouldn’t call it excitement, exactly, but she never minded skimming whatever strange thing he sent next.

The newsroom bustled around Jamie. Fellow reporters were typing at their computers, producers were talking among themselves as they stacked their shows, and the directors were checking in on all of the cameras and equipment in the studio.

On the far end of the open-concept newsroom, she could hear the intermittent beeps and mumbling on the scanners as the assignment editors listened to the radio traffic of the city’s emergency responders.

Since college, the sounds of a newsroom had comforted Jamie, but lately they made her antsy.

She felt like she was standing on the edge of something bigger, a shift waiting to happen.

She didn’t know what it was yet, only that it would hit her career hard when it finally landed.

With another sigh, Jamie clicked over to her browser, watching a video of a young boy mimicking a weathercast in his living room.

Sure, the video was cute—they always were—but this was the ninth fluffy story in a row.

She knew that being the green reporter in a newsroom often came with sacrifices, but she had left Colorado for WCVB to pursue a career in investigative, hard-hitting journalism.

Boston was the perfect setting for her to do so, close enough to DC to cover political pieces but far enough away that those pieces wouldn’t define her career.

Boston was also a much larger metropolitan area than Pueblo, Colorado.

But now, almost a month since her transfer, she hadn’t touched a single story that was anything more than a house fire or car crash.

The little boy on Jamie’s screen was named Sam, and Sam had a passion for weather, or at least that’s what his mom, Jennifer, said.

While most of her coworkers were already out in the field working to turn their stories, Jamie was waiting for Sam to get out of school so she could interview him and his mom.

On the desk next to her hand, Jamie’s cellphone buzzed.

She grabbed it, nails short and clean the way most reporters kept them, and unlocked it to find a text and a picture from her coworker Harper.

I know you’re jealous…

Harper had sent a photo of the community garden that was the subject of her story for the day.

The lush green plants and sunlight catching on the greenhouse glass made Jamie’s chest ache; she was jealous.

The community garden’s youth mentorship program had caught Jamie’s attention when it first came through her email.

She’d done a little research on the program before pitching it in their daily content meeting.

The news director, Aimee Tillet, had seemed to enjoy it, and that had filled Jamie with pride, until Aimee assigned the story to Harper.

Harper wasn’t being malicious; her text held more of a joking tone than ill intent.

Still, Jamie wished she were out there covering a story with more substance.

UGH! I totally am. I know I’m still new to the station but when will they let me start covering REAL stories????

Wish I knew girl :( Even I can see your talent is being wasted on fluff pieces.

I’m just trying to ride it out… sooner or later, they’ll have to give me something. Right?

Jamie didn’t wait for Harper’s response before setting her phone on the desk.

Having to wait until Sam was out of school meant she’d be working on a tighter deadline than usual.

She’d just have to make sure everything else was ready so her photographer could drop in the interview clips later.

Opening a blank document, Jamie began typing out a rough draft of her script.

* * *

After their interview with Sam, Jamie and Tilly Franklin climbed back into the station car. Tilly was WCVB’s sharpest videographer and Jamie’s usual partner on day turns, and today they were all smiles. They began the trek back to the station, and Jamie glanced over at her partner in crime.

“Okay,” Jamie said, dragging out the last syllable as she turned to look at Tilly in the driver’s seat. “He was pretty cute.”

Tilly slapped the steering wheel with joy. “Damn right he was! Only took an hour for you to see it.” Tilly glanced over at her. “I know you don’t like the fluff stuff, but it’s nice to not have something weighing on your chest every day after you get off.”

Jamie turned the statement over in her mind. They had a point. “I suppose you’re right, but fluff pieces aren’t what I came to Boston to cover.” Her fingers found the hem of her navy pencil skirt and began picking at a loose thread.

Tilly nodded, their face solemn as they drove. “I know, J. You’re too good to be stuck on fluff. They’ll figure that out.”

Jamie looked at Tilly as they spared a glance at her. “Thanks, Til.” The SUV was filled with a silence Jamie couldn’t stand. “So, have you ever thought about having a mini meteorologist of your own?”

A loud laugh exploded from Tilly’s chest as their head fell back against the headrest. “You know, I can’t say I ever have. I don’t think I’m cut out for the parenting stuff. I like picking up and going wherever I please too much.”

A grin flashed across Jamie’s face. “I thought this new person of yours had more roots than you do. Could that change?”

Tilly’s face flushed, their eyes falling to their lap. “It’s too early to say anything for sure, but yeah… she could change that.”

Jamie smiled softly. “So things are going well then?”

Tilly chuckled as they began to accelerate onto the highway. “A gentleperson doesn’t kiss and tell. What about you? Have you ever thought about kids before?”

Jamie felt her stomach bottom out, and an instant wave of cold dread filled her chest and her shoulders curled in, her posture collapsing for a breath. “Oh.” She paused. “Yeah, I guess I thought it was part of my plan, but that was before everything.”

Tilly sobered quickly, the smile dropping from their face. “Oh shit. Sorry, J, I didn’t think when I asked that.”

Jamie waved her hand nonchalantly in the space between them. “No! It’s fine. Really. I’m the one who overreacted. It’s been almost a year since the divorce was finalized, and I really should be better about processing.”

Tilly shook their head. “I don’t think that’s true. Everyone processes things differently, and you’re entitled to follow your own timeline with healing.”

Jamie gave a small nod. “Thank you.”

Silence filled the car once more, and Jamie leaned forward to push the power button for the radio.

She and Tilly had very different tastes in music, with Tilly preferring indie grunge and Jamie gravitating toward queer female pop artists.

There was one artist they could both agree on: Kacey Musgraves.

Jamie plugged her phone into the aux cable and quickly pulled up Kacey’s latest album, Deeper Well.

“Quick, give me a number between one and fourteen.” Jamie looked up from her phone at Tilly as she spoke.

Tilly smiled, familiar with the game. “Uh, let’s go with… eleven.”

Jamie scrolled down the song list and tapped on “Lonely Millionaire.”

“You only picked it because you know it’s my favorite,” Jamie playfully accused.

Tilly put a hand to their chest, feigning mock innocence. “I don’t know what you mean. I simply gave you a random number.”

As the intro swelled, Jamie stared out at the passing headlights. If this was all they ever trusted her with, maybe she wasn’t proving herself the way she thought she was.

* * *

Jamie sat camera right to the faces of WCVB’s evening programming, Dennis McElroy and Alison Jones.

Dennis, with his clipped silver hair and no-nonsense posture, looked born for an anchor desk.

Alison, vibrant in a jewel-toned blouse and effortless curls, leaned in slightly to frame the shot.

Jamie felt the muscles in her cheeks start to ache as the trio waited for the camera to take the shot of them.

On the playback monitor just under the lens, the end of Jamie’s package was playing, a clip of Sam holding a microphone far too big for his small hands as he rambled about the weather.

The red light on the camera flicked on, and Jamie turned to Dennis and Alison.

“Isn’t he just adorable?” she asked them rhetorically before looking back to the camera aimed at the three of them. “Sam says his favorite subject in school is science, but he’s not a big fan of math. His mom, Jennifer, said he’s still learning the difference between addition and subtraction.”

Alison laughed softly, leaning toward Jamie while Dennis shook his head. Jamie smiled at their reactions.

“I hope Sam knows he’s got to use a whole lot of math if he wants to become a meteorologist,” Dennis joked, while Alison nodded.

“I told him, but he said that he does, quote, just fine without the numbers,” Jamie replied, a light tone lifting her voice.

That earned her an actual laugh from Dennis before he politely thanked her for the story.

The camera shot tightened onto the two anchors, and the floor director, Mickey, gave Jamie a thumbs-up to move off the set.

She quietly climbed down from the large anchor desk and walked around the rear of the cameras toward the newsroom.

As she approached her desk, she was surprised to see Henry Filmore, WCVB’s longtime assignment editor, standing there with his sweater vest, clipboard, and that familiar look that said he wanted something from her.

“Weather kid turned out pretty good,” he said simply, nodding to the screen above their heads, which was about twenty seconds delayed and still showed Jamie on the screen.

Jamie shrugged a single shoulder. “Yeah, he was a cute kid.” She stopped in front of Henry and spun on her heel. “Do you mind?”

Henry straightened, then began to unhook her IFB box from the elastic strap that snapped in place between her bra straps, the thin strap pressing lightly between her shoulder blades.

“So, I know you’re probably itching to get on some real stories,” Henry started as he withdrew his hands from her back.

Jamie turned back around to face him, a skeptical look on her face.

“Relax. It’ll be an easy one.” Henry lifted his hand to pass her the IFB box and cables.

“Okay…” Jamie replied, drawing the sound out.

“Do you remember last week, that homicide where they found the suspect asleep in the vic’s backyard?” Henry asked, shoving his hands into his pockets and leaning back against her desk.

“Sure. Over in Medford, right?” Jamie asked, completely unsure where Henry was going. As far as she recalled, the case was pretty open and shut. The suspect had been found at the crime scene covered in the victim’s blood.

“Yeah, that’s the one. Well, we got an email just before the ten p.m. show started tonight from Erin Calhoun.

She’s the public information officer for Boston PD.

” Henry paused to let Jamie digest the new info.

“I don’t know that you’ve worked with her yet.

Anyway, they’re holding a press conference tomorrow morning to go over the details of the case.

Not sure why; seemed pretty cut and dry to me. ” Henry shrugged.

“Maybe it’s just because Medford hasn’t had a violent homicide in almost a decade,” Jamie suggested, and Henry’s face lit up.

“Look at you, Garrison! Doing your research. Good on ya.” Henry pulled a hand from his pocket, reached behind him on the desk, and produced a blue folder.

“This is all the coverage notes we have from last week.”

Jamie took the folder hesitantly. “Okay, but why are you giving it to me?”

Henry smiled, pushing off the desk to stand up. “Because you’re covering the press conference tomorrow.”

Jamie’s brain froze, and so did her body. Her green eyes went wide. Henry began to walk away, and she thawed, turning around to chase after him, still clutching the blue folder in her hand. “I’m sorry… did you just say that I was covering the presser?”

Henry didn’t stop walking toward the assignment desk, but he did turn to look at her. “Yeah. Is that a problem?”

Jamie’s feet felt like they wouldn’t stay underneath her. She stumbled a little, tongue tripping over her words. “No, well, I… it’s not…” Jamie stopped short and took a breath. “No, it’s not an issue. I’m just confused as to why someone who already covered it last week isn’t doing it.”

Henry finally stopped walking and turned to face Jamie. “You’re one of two reporters who doesn’t have something lined up already for tomorrow, and I feel like you’re ready to get off the fluff pieces. That’s why you moved to Boston, isn’t it?”

Jamie nodded vigorously. “Yes! I am… I mean, I did.” She beamed at Henry. “Thank you. I won’t let you down.”

Henry smiled back. “See that you don’t.”