by Meg Muldoon
Sometimes I hated what we did as journalists.
“I’ve been making follow-up calls all morning to people who know Mindy. I haven’t gotten anywhere yet, but—”
“Okay, Ms. Wolf. Okay. This is what I want you to do,” Kobritz said, running a hand through the few squiggly hairs he had left on his head, the way he did when he caught the scent of real news. “Turn over all your information – contacts, notes, and the like – to Erik Royce as soon as you can.”
I felt my jaw come unhinged and everything I’d been about to say just went out the window.
“But… but I’m the one who knows Mindy, Kobritz,” I said. “I caught this story. It needs to be told respectfully, and it needs to be told right. I should be the one to—”
“I’m sorry, Ms. Wolf,” he said, cutting me off. “But you know the deal. This story falls under Erik’s beat. And additionally, I wouldn’t want to place you in an ethical dilemma by giving you a crime story. You would have to talk to the police, and I know how you feel about that.”
I started saying something, but realized I didn’t have a leg to stand on.
Kobritz was right. I didn’t take the crime beat because I wanted to maintain my ethics as a reporter and pursue a relationship with a police lieutenant. A police lieutenant who would be lead on this case.
And no matter how much I wanted this story, I couldn’t have it.
“Besides,” Kobritz said. “I’m sure you have enough on your plate as is, Ms. Wolf. You’ve got all those school board members and their dogs to attend to.”
He grunted, and left before I could say anything more.
I let out a long sigh. Then, out of frustration, I quietly kicked the soft padding of my cubicle with my boots.
It was bad enough when Kobritz was being unpleasant and difficult.
But it was almost worse when he was right.
Chapter 24
“One extra-large coffee – no room for cream. Two deluxe turkey cranberry sandwiches and two marionberry muffins please,” I said. “To go.”
Lou’s pink-stained lips curled up into a mischievous smile.
“Is that really such a good idea, Freddie? I mean, I know you were awake all night, but do you think it’s smart to eat as much as a linebacker?”
She started giggling, pleased with her little joke.
“I’m bringing Sam lunch,” I said, crossing my arms. “Which I’m sure you already know.”
She smiled slightly to herself, punching the order into the register.
“And can you put it all on my tab?” I asked.
She waved her hands at me, the way she always did when I asked that.
Lou never let me pay for my meals at The Barkery, but I always found a way of making it up to her. Either I’d pay more of the electric bill each month, or slip some cash into her wallet when she wasn’t looking.
“You don’t want a coffee, too?” she asked. “I could make you up one of our new pumpkin caramel lattes. They’re to-die-for.”
“Sounds tempting, but no thanks,” I said. “I’m all coffee-d out for the day.”
My left eye had started doing a caffeine twitch an hour earlier, and I knew I’d reached my limit for the day.
“Yeah. I could see that a mile away. I mean, jeez. You look like The Edmund Fitzgerald.”
Lou always did like her some Gordon Lightfoot. Like our mom, she had a special place in her heart for the Canadian singer-songwriter, despite the fact that Gordon was writing and recording decades before Lou was even born.
“Thanks,” I said sarcastically. “Just what I wanted to hear before going to see Sam – that I look like a wreck.”
Lou shrugged.
“Sorry, but I’m just calling it like I see it,” she said. “But you know what? Your hair actually looks really cute in that ponytail today.”
I shook my head at Lou’s lame attempt to dig herself out of a hole.
I glanced around behind me for a second as a loud round of laughter erupted from a table in the far corner of the bakery. It was slightly before the lunch hour, so The Barkery wasn’t quite in its full-on slammed mode yet. Most folks were seated and enjoying their baked goods and there wasn’t a line behind me – meaning I had a moment or two to chat with Lou.
“Any progress with Mindy?” she asked, stepping off to the side of the cash register to an area beside the display case that was a little less noisy.
I shook my head.
“Not really,” I said. “If she’s still missing by this evening, then it becomes an official missing person’s investigation. And that means that Sam won’t be able to tell me anything he finds out about the case unless it’s approved by the chief.”
“He’s not sharing?” Lou said, raising an eyebrow.
“He can’t,” I said. “It’s an open investigation.”
I sighed, shaking my head slightly.
“Not that it matters anyway,” I said. “Kobritz pulled me off the story and gave it to Erik Royce.”
“What?” Lou said, her eyes bulging with outrage. “Why would he do that? You’re the best reporter at The Chronicle.”
“It’s not my beat,” I said glumly. “It could have been, but it’s not.”
I rested my chin on my palm.
“I suppose it’s just as well,” I continued. “It makes it easier to just investigate on my own. I won’t have any deadlines to worry about.”
Lou’s expression changed into one of desperate concern.
“You’re still going to investigate Mindy’s disappearance?”
“Of course,” I said. “She was a friend. I have to help her.”
Lou studied me in silence for a long, long moment, and I knew I was rapidly approaching a big sister lecture.
“Freddie,” she said, lowering her voice. “You can’t be serious.”
“I am serious,” I said. “I may have been the last person Mindy talked to. And aside from that, I’ve known her for most of my life.”
She crossed her arms and let out a scoff.
“Not to sound insensitive, Sis. But you hardly know Mindy. And this is something that could be dangerous. Remember what happened in July with Milo Daniels? Remember how close you came to being one of his sick science experiments? Do you want something like that to happen agai—”
“Here’s the turkey cranberry and marionberry muffins, Louise,” Marianne, one of the front of the house girls, said, pushing a paper bag toward Lou. “Coffee will be ready in a minute.”
Lou nodded at Marianne gratefully. Then she turned her attention back to me.
“Look Lou, I know you worry about me. But you don’t have to. I’ll be careful. I promise.”
“That’s not enough, don’t you see?” she said, her voice trembling slightly. “You can be as careful as you like, but sometimes things can happen – things that are out of your control. The only way you can prevent them is by not taking needless risks and to—”
“And here’s the coffee,” Marianne said, clearly not realizing that she had interrupted Lou twice.
“Thanks,” I said to Marianne.
I took the full bag, tucking it under my arm, and the cup of coffee.
I didn’t like seeing Lou so worried. But I wasn’t going to stop trying to find out what happened to Mindy.
“Look, let’s not talk about this now,” I said.
Lou glanced away and didn’t answer for a long moment.
I tried to change the direction of the conversation.
“So, uh, how’d your date with Greg go last night?”
A loud crash sounded from somewhere back in the kitchen – like a stainless steel bowl hitting the floor. Followed by a high-pitched “Shoot!”
Pete had obviously been eavesdropping.
It distracted Lou from her lecturing and she glanced behind her, then back at me.
“Good,” she said in a lowered voice. “Really good. And if I want to ever get that batch of cream cheese chocolate chip scones in this display case, then that’s all I c
an really tell you right now.”
I grinned brightly.
Poor Pete. I knew I shouldn’t be smiling about it, but I couldn’t help it.
“That’s probably for the best, anyway,” I said. “I better get going.”
I cleared my throat.
“Thanks for this, Sis,” I said, holding up the treat bag and the cup of coffee.
She let out a nervous sigh.
“Don’t do anything needlessly risky, Freddie,” she said, giving me a long, judgmental stare. “You’ve… you’ve got people who care about you. People who need you. Remember that.”
I nodded.
I knew that the Milo Daniels incident from July had shaken her up. But sometimes I forgot just how much.
“Say hi to Sam for me,” she said.
She left the counter then, going back over to the cash register to ring up another customer.
There were plenty of good things about living in the same town with my older sister again. We got to share everything about our lives with each other, the way we did growing up.
But at times like this, I wondered whether or not that was always such a good thing.
Chapter 25
“I already know that I’m not allowed back there,” I said, my hand tightening around the coffee cup in misplaced frustration. “But would you just tell Lt. Sakai that I’m out here waiting?”
Officer Anson Donnally sat at the desk outside the police station doors, chewing on the tip of his pen while giving me a slimy once over.
“The lieutenant is very busy today, missy,” he said, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his sizeable gut. “And he didn’t say nothin’ to me about meeting with no reporter.”
I could see now why Mindy had had such trouble getting the cop sitting in front of me to take her irresponsible dog owner complaint seriously. The rotund, mid-thirties officer was the picture of laziness. He wouldn’t even so much as lift a phone to call Sam and let him know that I was here.
I leaned over the counter.
“I’m not here on official business,” I said. “I just brought him lunch. Now would you just let him know that—”
“Well if it’s charity work you’re doing for the local law enforcement agency, then I’d be happy to take that there lunch bag off your hands,” he said. “I haven’t eaten yet, you know. And I’m hungrier than a blue-bellied ox in the winter.”
I gave him a dead pan look.
I didn’t have time for this.
I pulled my phone from my pocket and called Sam, giving Anson Donnally a glare that made it unmistakably clear that I was going to tattle on him.
“Okay, okay,” he said, holding up his pudgy hands like I’d just told him it was a stick up. “I’ll let him know you’re here. Why’d you have to go and kill our little fun?”
Your little fun, I thought.
A moment later, the door to the station opened, and Sam appeared. He was wearing his badge around his neck, a faded blue collared shirt, and a pair of jeans. He looked good, the faint redness around his eyes the only thing that betrayed the fact that he’d been up all night working.
“Hey,” he said, coming around the desk, ignoring his idiot co-worker who was eyeing us like he had nothing better to do. “I hope you weren’t waiting long.”
I smiled, but didn’t say anything.
“What are you doing here?”
“I brought you some coffee,” I said. “And a sandwich from The Barkery. A muffin, too”
His eyes softened at the mention of “muffin.”
It always tickled me that a tough, imposing guy like Sam Sakai had such a sweet tooth.
“Aw, that was really thoughtful of you,” he said, putting an arm around my shoulder and leading me down the hallway. “You didn’t have to do that.”
He must have felt Anson Donnally’s annoying stare, too. And he probably sensed the officer’s big ears eavesdropping for any bit of gossip about his boss.
“Say, I’m glad you’re here,” he said in a lowered voice. “I was planning to stop by the newspaper in an hour or so anyway.”
He stopped walking for a moment and looked down into my eyes.
“I, uh, I owe you an apology about what I said last night,” he said. “I didn’t mean to imply that you were only there for a story. I know Mindy’s your friend, and that you were there as a friend. Not as a reporter. I know you’re not like that, Freddie. And I was out of line to—”
I shook my head.
“It’s fine Sam,” I said. “You didn’t mean anything by it.”
“No, I didn’t,” he said. “But it was still wrong of me, Freddie. I’m sorry.”
I nodded.
“Well, in that case, apology accepted.”
He smiled. We started walking again down the hallway, toward a small alcove with a window overlooking some young maples. Their flaming orange leaves showered the grass beneath them at every stiff breeze.
“I figured we could have lunch together,” I said, changing the subject. “I felt like seeing you.”
He sucked in a deep breath.
“You know there’s nothing I’d rather do, Freddie, but I can’t today,” he said. “I’ve just got too much work.”
“Oh,” I said.
I tried to keep the disappointment out of my face, but I knew that Sam saw it before I could conceal it.
“But hey, let me make it up to you tomorrow night,” he said. “I’ll make you dinner. How’s that sound?”
My heart did a little tap dance at the prospect of one of his home-cooked dinners.
Both Sam and I were similar in the sense that neither one of us had a lot of time in our day-to-day lives for cooking. Where we differed, though, was in our skill levels in the kitchen. I could barely make steak and potatoes without some sort of catastrophe occurring. Meanwhile, Sam had some serious cooking skills. And the few times he had made me dinner, I’d been blown away.
“All right, it’s a deal,” I said. “So, speaking of work, where are you at with Mindy?”
I wasn’t sure if I was prepared for the answer, but I needed to know.
“Well, Phil Monahan said he has nothing to do with her disappearance,” he said. “He’s filed a missing person’s report with us. And you know how Mindy’s student teacher told you that Phil called in sick for her and told the school she’d come down with laryngitis?”
I nodded.
“Well, Phil claims that he never did that.”
I felt my eyes grow wide at that revelation.
“Jeez,” I whispered, shaking my head.
If Phil hadn’t called in sick for Mindy, then who had?
And more importantly, what had that person really done with Mindy?
I didn’t know exactly what to make of it, but a mystery man calling in sick for Mindy that day seemed like anything but good news.
“Do you think Phil’s telling the truth?” I asked.
Sam paused for a long moment, studying me.
“I’m sorry,” he finally said. “But I can’t tell you any more than that. The chief hasn’t authorized us to speak to the media yet.”
“Well, that’s good because I’m not the media right now,” I said. “I’m not working on this story. Erik Royce is. I’m just Mindy’s friend. So what did Phil say last night when you questioned him?”
Sam sighed, and looked out the window. He looked troubled, like he was debating something in his head.
“No,” he said, shooting a look over his shoulder toward the front desk. “It’s an open investigation. I can’t tell you a single thing about it without running it by the chief, Freddie.”
I shook my head.
“But I can help,” I said. “You know that I could be a big help. I’m a better investigator than most of the cops you’ve got on the force. And I can—”
“We can’t do this,” he said abruptly.
I swallowed hard, searching his eyes.
I couldn’t deny the way his words had stung.
�
�Look,” he said, placing a hand on the wall behind me and leaning closer. “You’re right – you are a better investigator than most of the cops in this station. But you’re not a cop. You’re a reporter. You knew things like this might come up when we started seeing each other. And it doesn’t matter how I feel about you. It doesn’t matter that I love you. I can’t give you anything on this.”
I felt my ears ring as I suddenly forgot all about what we were arguing over.
The blood thundered in my veins.
“Wait… What’d you just say?”
He shifted his weight between his legs and dug his hands into his jean pockets.
“I said that it doesn’t matter that I love you,” he mumbled.
But it did matter.
It meant everything.
“And I said I can’t give you anything on this—”
I dropped the paper bag in my hand and wrapped my arms around him, planting a slow, smoldering kiss on his lips.
“I love you, too,” I said, pulling away.
The words felt so right, so true, so honest – I wondered why it had taken me so long to say them.
“I was nervous you might not say it back,” he said, looking like a weight had just been lifted off of his shoulders.
“I wanted to say it sooner,” I said. “I just…”
Our eyes locked, and I knew that it had been a long time coming for him too.
We’d just taken a very big step, and we both knew it.
After a moment, he cleared his throat.
“I promise you that I’m doing everything to find your friend, Freddie,” he said. “And I promise you that as soon as the chief signs off on it, I’ll tell you what I can about the evidence we find.”
It wasn’t exactly what I wanted to hear. But none of it really surprised me either.
“Okay,” I said. “That’s fair.”
Sam gazed at me for a long, lovely moment, and a sense of peace overcame me knowing that he felt the same way about me as I did about him.
“Say, Lt. Lover Man. The Chief wants to see you in his office.”
And just like that, the sense of peace was shattered by the country twang of the laziest cop west of the Rocky Mountains – Anson Donnally.
