Buried (Hush collection)
Page 7
Here’s the gist:
Trying to find out what makes the Gravedigger tick, I’ve been looking at all the news stories around the time and places of the attacks. I found two deaths the day before each kidnapping. Death one: a businesswoman from West Virginia was beaten to death. Number two: my own story about the coal-mining exec killed in a car accident outside of Garner. Took me a minute to get the connection between them: COAL industry worker and woman from WEST VIRGINIA. Yes, they lived together. Told you I’m slow.
One more bit of info: Guess who else was nearby when those two deaths occurred: the right honorable John C. Heller, known for bad behavior with the opposite sex and temper tantrums. He was staying at the same hotel as the West Virginia woman.
If I’m right and not suffering from conspiracy-itis, Heller made a move and killed her when she resisted, and her boyfriend drove to Garner to ask questions. He was murdered too. To bury any stories that might connect Heller with the victims, somebody created the Gravedigger to dominate the news. My vote is Peter Tile, the “witness” I found. I looked over a couple hundred campaign photos and saw someone looking suspiciously like him lurking near Heller.
Far-fetched? Maybe. But then again who’d expect baby goats to be prancing around in pajamas?
The conversation Dottie had had with the corporate executives of National Media Group in Gerry Bradford’s office hadn’t lasted long.
The president of the company: “Ms. Wyandotte, are you confident that your reporting of this story is solid?” Gerry Bradford had sent copies of the inflammatory piece to Them. Fitz had told her that’s how he thought of their overlords. Capital T Them.
“Yes, I am.” She ran through her prior week of twelve-hour days and nights. The exhaustive details: the subjects she’d interviewed, the places she’d examined and photographed firsthand.
Real journalists dig, they background, they research. They’re fucking pains in the ass hounding subjects for statements. They get double attribution—at the minimum—talk to multiple sources . . . They report facts. Not alternative facts, not sort-of, kind-of facts . . .
Amen, Fitz.
The president had continued, “Because if you’re not confident this story will withstand scrutiny, then there’s . . .” He turned to the chief general counsel. “What’s the legal term?”
“We call it the fan and the shit rule.”
She’d said firmly, “It’s solid. I want to run with it. And now.”
The president looked at Bradford, who said, “I’ll stake my job on it.”
The man had debated a moment longer, looking her over carefully. Still no interest in the studs or ink. She held his eyes as easily as she’d held her boss’s.
Then, abruptly: “Okay. Publish.” A glance toward his general counsel, a nod and the two men had disappeared as silently as they’d arrived.
Now, Dottie heard the chime of her computer, signifying another incoming email. She was getting a lot of requests for statements. The bulk were asking if she would comment on the National Committee’s removal, for cause, of John Heller from the ballot, as it had the power to do, under the rules.
This amused her. Why would she comment to another publication when she was covering the story herself? She had a series of appointments lined up: cops and witnesses and lawyers to interview.
First, though, she had a stop to make: St. Michael’s cemetery. She’d cry, she’d pay respects, she’d pray. But she wouldn’t stay long. There was much work to do. It would be a horse race, but there was no other choice. The print edition of the Examiner was still alive, for the time being, and Dottie Wyandotte knew that to make the deadline she had to get her copy in by seven p.m.
A rule that had not once been breached in the 113-year history of the newspaper.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Photo © Gunner Publications
Jeffery Deaver is the international bestselling author of more than forty novels, most recently The Goodbye Man. His novels and short stories have won the Thriller Award, the Ian Fleming Steel Dagger, and more. Deaver’s books are sold in 150 countries and have been translated into twenty-five languages.