by DiAnn Mills
Mike McDougal. What had she ever seen in him? Certainly nothing more than a face. “How did you get my number?”
“Is that any way to treat an old friend? Oh, we were more than that.”
“But it was over a long time ago.”
“You dumped me for no reason.”
Kariss dug her fingernails into her palm. “Let’s get the facts straight. You lied to me about needing money for your niece.”
“No one believed you.”
“You mean no one believed I could be that stupid.”
He chuckled, a disgusting sound that sounded like he had sinus drainage. “Read my blog lately?”
She bit her tongue to stop any sarcasm. Mike could do tremendous damage on his blog, since it was read by thousands. “Every Thursday morning.”
“You don’t comment.”
“You read those?”
“Every single one. Even those who respond like idiots. After all, they’re my fans, my adoring public.”
She touched her shoulder, feeling the bandage under her shirt. “Imagine that.”
“You’re not being nice, Kariss. Hurts my feelings.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry. Just wondered how you found me.”
“I remembered you were from Texas City, and I did some searching on the Internet. Called a few of our old friends. Here I am.”
“Since you went to all that trouble, this must be important.”
“You, pretty lady, are always important.” His words were low, seductive. Regret for ever being involved with him washed over her.
“Okay, Mike, what’s really going on?”
“I want to interview Xavier Olvera, an exclusive for Channel 5.”
“Did you contact him?”
“I went through Gilberto, but Xavier refused. Said he felt like the English newspapers and TV were not doing anything to find his wife.”
“He has faith in Univision. After all, their programming with Aquí y Ahora helped the FBI solve the death of his daughter.”
“But you could get me the interview. He speaks highly of you.”
Always the angle. “I can’t. I respect Xavier’s stand.”
“Don’t you think you owe Channel 5 the opportunity to continue a gut-wrenching story?”
“Mike, this conversation is going nowhere. I’m not helping you. Xavier Olvera is a friend, and I’ll not exploit him. Aquí y Ahora has a follow-up this coming Friday. His allegiance is with them.”
“Let’s discuss this over dinner.”
“No thanks.”
“I have your address.”
“Not any more. I now live in a gated community.”
“You’re a tough woman, Kariss. Where are you working? Because I’ve seen the blog posts about your career headed for a shakedown.”
“I’m a writer.”
“For how long? I’ll ignore what I’m reading. By the way, who’s the lucky man by your side? FBI … That’s heavy research.” Mike laughed. “I’d like to step into his shoes — or rather your bed.”
He made her feel like she needed a shower. Any attempts to remain cordial dissipated. “We’re done.”
“You shouldn’t blow me off. Readers will see a side of the Kiss of Kariss that isn’t conducive to book sales.”
“Go for it, Mike. Those who read your blog soon see your vindictive side. I wouldn’t lower myself to contradict it.”
She disconnected the call, wondering what McDougal Reports would say about her. He couldn’t do any more damage than Meredith’s recent blog.
Kariss Walker has given the kiss of death to her career. She’s decided to write suspense in an over-saturated market in which she doesn’t have the skill to run with the big leaguers. That’s why the Rockford Literary Agency has chosen to discontinue representation.
How interesting … since Kariss had been the one to end the professional relationship. But the devastation to her career had already occurred. Posting a rebuttal to Meredith’s post only put Kariss on the defense. Readers of her blog were professionals in the publishing industry. McDougal Reports hit the eyes of fans.
An hour later she left her work area for the employee lounge. A bag of Vitamin M&M’s sounded really good. Ever since she’d started this project, her life had taken a definite bend in the road.
No sooner had the thought left her brain than Hillary walked in, and there was no avoiding the assertive agent.
“Hi, Hillary, how are you?” If she gathered up her purse and walked to the door, she might not stop her.
The woman’s face brightened. “Just the lady I want to see.”
“What can I do for you?” Kariss regretted the words as soon as she spoke them.
“Remember when you told me to take an online course on punctuation and grammar?”
“Yes. Did you enroll?”
“No. Because I felt it stifled my creativity. Stole my voice. But thanks to you, I perused the entire writer website and decided to start over with a new story.”
“Wonderful. I’d like for you to reconsider the English refresher. It—”
“Oh no. I’m convinced that I don’t need it. An editor can stick in those little commas and fix my verb tenses. But my new story has me up all night writing fast and furiously.”
Kariss reached into her purse and pulled out an M&M, popping it into her mouth. “What’s it all about?”
“It’s a historical novel set in medieval times during the bubonic plague. One of the rats ends up in time travel to the year three thousand.”
“A rat?”
“Yes, but once he’s in a futuristic setting, he transforms into a human. A very sexy man.”
Oh, please, tell me this isn’t so.
Hillary giggled. “I have romance, inner and outer conflict, and a character arc just like you said. Want to know the hero’s name?”
“Sure.”
“Michelangelo. He paints too. Can’t wait to send you the first chapter.”
Kariss cringed. “Make sure it’s polished. Take your time. I understand your first priority is your position here.”
“I’m thinking of resigning.”
“Let me make a suggestion. When you earn as much from your writing as you do here, then consider a career change.”
Hillary startled. “But I need time to write.”
“Try getting up earlier in the morning or staying up later at night.”
Hillary’s shoulders slumped, then she glanced at her watch. “Great, I’m late for a meeting. You really destroyed my bubble, Kariss. Are you worried I’ll take over your spot on the bestsellers list?”
Kariss took a deep breath and walked toward the door. “I welcome the challenge, Hillary.”
CHAPTER 39
Shortly before noon, Ryan approached Tigo’s desk. “We’ve got an update on Bates’s and Masterson’s foreign holdings. Check your in-box. You should have the same report and phone records.”
Tigo printed out both attachments, and the two men left the area for privacy in an interview room.
Behind closed doors, Tigo studied the findings. “We already know Bates has a petroleum company in South Korea that manufactures oilfield pipe. He also has a subsidiary located in Chad that specializes in pipe able to withstand extreme heat and pressure — a product that only a few companies ever need.”
“Right. Says here the special pipe requires a mineral alloy found only in Chad. That mineral is mined by a company that Masterson owns. This piece is the last step before the pipe’s shipped to the U.S. for use in the Gulf’s deep-water drilling.” Ryan turned the report over. “Bates wasn’t exactly up-front about his relationship with Masterson. Wonder what else he lied about?”
“Probably just enough to keep himself out of hot water. Oilfield pipe might not be the only thing they’re importing into the U.S.” The width of the pipe had to be a problem in shipping the guns. He glanced up at Ryan. “Would they dissemble weapons before shipping?”
“They’d have to. When the pipe is brought int
o the Port of Houston, the Arroyos could unload the guns and get them into Mexico. Sounds simple enough. All we need to do is prove our speculation.”
“Or find out when the next shipment of pipe arrives from Chad.” Tigo drummed his fingers on the report. “Bates said he heard about a shipment of something from Chicago, which could be a way to throw off the investigation. The FIG can research that further.”
“Masterson and Bates have a lucrative business going on without smuggling guns. Not much overhead since the guns and ammo are brought right to their front door.”
“Shouldn’t be a problem to find out when the next shipment of pipe’s due.”
Ryan leaned back in his chair. “Already did. August 17. Same as Bates reported.”
“Why? Is he trying to eliminate Masterson in the equation? That doesn’t make sense. Unless—” Tigo paused to think through what he suspected. “Bates could want more of a cut. I wonder if he has another source in Chad for the mineral used in the pipe. Do you know what other companies extract it?”
“Worth looking into. Bates could stand to make a whole lot more money without Masterson. And what about who’s tipping us off about Arroyos’ transports into Mexico? Do you think Bates is getting greedy? Possibly looking to the Skulls to find mules?”
“Maybe so,” Tigo said. “He could be trying to get rid of Masterson and at the same time muddying the waters with the Arroyos.” He stood and walked to the window, where sunlight heated the city. “If he’s supplying all the weapons and paying less to get them across the border, he stands to make millions.”
“Yeah, and I think Bates is playing us as his ace,” Ryan said. “He came to us as a concerned citizen. Gave us the dates of the transfer. The pipe is shipped from Chad after the alloy coating, which means Masterson would be nailed for gun smuggling, and Bates could plead innocent. With Masterson’s record, a good attorney could get any charges against Bates dismissed.” He shrugged. “He has proof about coming to us with his suspicions.”
Ryan examined the report again. “My guess is that’s exactly what Bates wants. But if Masterson suspects a double cross, Bates is a dead man.”
“We may be way out there with this, but I’ve got a gut feeling we’re onto something.”
Tigo searched through the phone records. “Bates and Masterson are quite communicative. I’d like to have these other numbers checked out.” He saw a number resembling one he’d examined earlier. “Hold on a minute while I get Wyatt Phillips’s phone records.” Once he returned, he compared them to Bates’s. “Phillips only has one call to Bates. None to Masterson. That theory just died.”
Ryan glanced at his watch. “Linc wants us in his office in ten minutes. We’ve got footage of Bates and Masterson together.”
Upstairs the two men joined Linc. He pointed to his computer screen. “We’re fitting a few pieces together, linking Bates’s Cardinal Ventures’ subsidiary with Masterson’s Mining Company,” Linc said.
“Do you have surveillance reports?” Tigo said.
“We not only have phone records but both men on film. So much for Bates claiming he didn’t talk to Masterson.”
Tigo and Ryan peered into the screen.
“This was taken last Friday,” Linc said. “They left their offices about fifteen minutes apart and drove to The Woodlands where they met up at The Fountains at Waterway Square. Note how they’re on opposite sides of the fountain until Bates receives a call.”
“They must have wondered about being tailed,” Ryan said. “Who did you use?”
Linc laughed. “An Asian gal who mingled with the teens.”
Tigo noted Masterson raising a fist. “Any idea what this is about?”
“Not sure. Our gal wore a wire, but by the time she made it to Bates, the call was over.” Linc pointed to the right side of the screen. “That’s one of Masterson’s bodyguards. A second man stood about fifty feet away, and a third followed Bates to his car.”
“Did he get roughed up?” Tigo said.
“No. Obviously Bates and Masterson aren’t happy about something,” Linc said. “I read the reports. Looks to me like Bates is setting Masterson up — if he lives through it. They talked about twelve minutes, but it didn’t get hot until the end. Bates drove back to the Galleria office, but Masterson had lunch at the Waterway Marriott with his wife.”
“What do you think?” Tigo said.
“Business partners who aren’t getting along. We have additional footage of Bates meeting with two Arroyos on the southeast part of town. Possibly the same two he claimed to see in the parking garage.”
“Setting up Masterson,” Ryan said.
“We’re staying on them,” Linc said. “No point in bringing Bates in again. That would only raise flags. Let’s stay on him and Masterson. See where it goes. How’s the contact for getting you two in position to sell guns?”
“Actually, good,” Tigo said. “Cheeky is examining our credentials. Should know soon. Possibly get a buy going about the time of the next gun shipment.”
“The Arroyos are heated up. Two more Skulls were found last night. Bullets to the head. Execution style.” Linc crossed his arms over his chest. “Watch your backs. I saw Kariss today. Is she ready to make plane reservations and take a vacation out of the state?”
“She’s not budging. I followed her around Saturday and kept her busy Sunday afternoon. But I’m not a babysitter.”
Linc clenched his fist. “Neither do we want her dead.”
CHAPTER 40
Thursday morning, Kariss settled into her work area at the FBI office and responded to emails, which were decreasing by the day. She jumped in on writer loops — and most days with good input. Yesterday she’d found a site of suspense bloggers who were looking for a seventh writer to complete a week. She applied and waited.
Ever since Kariss had refused Mike McDougal’s advances, she’d read his blog. He edged toward slander against prominent persons in Houston, the state, and the country. Just when she thought he’d forgotten her, trouble brewed. Mom had called her while she was en route to the FBI office this morning and said she’d forgotten to tell her that Mike had phoned the house.
“He said you weren’t answering your phone.”
“Right. He’s a pest. Nasty manners.”
“I’m glad I didn’t tell him where you lived because he asked for that too. I told him I could relay a message.”
“What was his response?”
“He wants you to read today’s blog. Honey, I’ve read what that man writes, and it’s disgusting. I’m surprised someone hasn’t flattened him.”
Kariss laughed, but the backwash of what Mike could do twisted her insides. “When did you start reading his blog? I didn’t think you did much with the computer.”
“Since I heard mention of it on TV news. It’s usually posted midmorning.”
At ten-thirty, Kariss logged onto McDougal Reports.
Sometimes the rich and famous leave their friends behind.
It seems money brings on an air of sophistication that discards relationships like old shoes, unless those persons can add rungs to the career ladder. I’ve run into someone who is one of those user types more than once over the summer, and every time she embraced snobbery like flies take to cow patties. When I attempted to have a conversation with her, she blew me off. And her new muscle-bound boyfriend told me to stay away.
The person in question is Kariss Walker, who is a New York Times bestselling writer. Prior to that, she performed an outstanding job as news anchor for Channel 5. Those positions have tainted her personality. She’s no longer available for old friends. My invitation to coffee was met with stark annoyance. She just batted her long lashes. (And they are for real. Trust me, I know many details about Kariss Walker.) Anyway, my point is she had no time to catch up with an old friend.
Maybe her readership is about to take a dive.
Kariss clicked on her address book and phoned her lawyer, leaving a message with his answering service. This time M
ike had gone too far.
An hour later, she still fumed. Tigo stood in the doorway of her cubicle. Maybe he had a better idea about how to deal with Mike.
“I have a problem.”
He lifted a brow. “And you want me to help solve it? Word choice? You’re already ahead on this game.”
“No.” She couldn’t hide her grin, despite the problem with the blog. “Remember the obnoxious reporter, Mike McDougal? He just published a scathing blog about me. It’s slanderous, and I’ve got a call in to my attorney.”
She turned her laptop his way. After reading it, he whistled. “Once something is written on the Internet, it’s there forever.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“You aren’t thinking of refuting it in the comments, are you?”
“I’m not that stupid,” Kariss said. “His blogs are usually about political or controversial persons. I imagine my lawsuit isn’t his first.”
“Don’t you think his reputation discounts everything he writes?”
“I think he’s read for entertainment, not anything factual. But he has a large following.”
“Have you read the comments?”
“No.”
He turned the screen her way. “Listen to this one: ‘Bet those who’ve enjoyed Kariss Walker’s books will have a different viewpoint.’ “
Lately, Tigo had been more of a human being. “Okay. I’ll read the others.”
“Aloud, please.”
She smiled, but her heart wasn’t in it. “ ‘We’re tired of people-bashing, Mike. This is the last time I read your blog.’ “
“See. The readers get tired of that stuff.”
“I feel better all ready.” She read the next one. “ ‘Bring on more! We all know the rich and famous are shallow.’ “
“Get yourself a suit of armor.”
“While I’m at it, I’ll learn how to joust.” Kariss shook her head. “This reminds me why I refuse to read reviews. If they’re good, I’m afraid my head will swell. If they’re bad, I cry for six months.”
She exited the site. Her attorney could deal with Mike McDougal.
Friday Kariss stayed at her condo to help Vicki move in. With her stitched-up shoulder, all she could do was point. Nurse Vicki refused to let her lift a single box.
