Seducing His Heart Page 16
When he arrived, the place was abuzz with news. Sam was yelling at the copy boy, the weather girl was complaining about her computer, and the sound guy yelled at everyone to shut up. Business as usual. Lost in his own thoughts, Whit went to his office. He shuffled papers, barely glancing at the top stories. The new job can’t come soon enough. I need to get away.
Sam exploded into his space, waving her arms and perching on the arm of a chair. “Where the hell have you been? There’s a new scandal about the mayor’s deputy. Seems his wife is growing pot in their backyard and selling it. We’ve got another rape in Central Park, though I don’t know what these chickies are doing there alone at three in the morning. And people came to blows outside the mayor’s office over some dumbass off-leash law.”
Whit narrowed his eyes. “Earth-shattering, isn’t it? Isn’t there any national news?”
“Yeah. All bad. Here. Read these. Top stories, unless there’s news from the Mid-east.”
As quickly as she blew into his office, she blew out again. He smiled. Sam loves the drama. Scandal, her favorite food. Whit picked up the papers, sat back in his chair, and read.
* * * *
Bess woke up at six. After shopping for linens, basic kitchen items, and ordering furniture, she’d collapsed early last night. The new coffee maker sent a tantalizing aroma through the house. She poured a mug, donned her jacket, leashed Dumpling, and headed for the beach.
The gray, November sky cooled the air even lower than the reported temperature. The deserted shore was quiet and calm. Bess released the dog to run free. The waves were small compared to the ocean. She walked along, heading toward Playland, an amusement park closed for the season.
Dumpling followed along, sticking to the firm, damp sand. The tide was going out, leaving a sprinkling of broken shells in white and various shades of blue and gray. The task of furnishing Whit’s house was daunting. Bess had never done anything like it alone. She chewed a lip as she second-guessed her choices.
Deliveries would begin arriving that afternoon. She needed to go back to the hardware store and supplement the rudimentary kitchen supplies she had bought there the day before. The wind picked up. Bess pulled the zipper of her jacket higher, her mind occupied with details and decisions. Dumpling barked at a lone seagull and chased it along the shore. Bess almost didn’t hear her phone ring.
On the screen was a number she didn’t recognize. She grimaced. Is this a damn sales pitch? On my cell? She was about to turn it off when it stopped. She shrugged and went back to making a mental shopping list when it went off again. The same number. Salespeople don’t usually call back.
“Hello?”
“Bess, don’t hang up.”
She stopped. “Terry?” A chill shot up her spine. It can’t be.
“Yeah. Don’t hang up. Please, Bess. Listen.”
She sank down hard on the sand, her eyes wide. The mug fell beside her, spilling the remaining coffee. Dumpling sat next to her. “Terry? Is it really you? You’re not dead?” Tears gathered in the corners of her eyes.
“I don’t have much time. I’m not supposed to be calling you.”
“What the hell?” Anger pushed sadness out of her heart.
“I’m not surprised you’re pissed. Give me a minute.”
“Start talking.” Her lips compressed into a frown.
“The undercover work I was doing got dangerous. I got made. I had to get out of town.”
“Oh?”
“This is a burn phone. Not traceable. Still, it’s dangerous for me to talk to anyone I’ve known from before. But I had to call you.”
“Why? To explain about your wife?”
“I’m sorry about that. We were practically divorced. When they arranged for me to leave town, Mona came with me. Had to. It wasn’t safe for her, either. We’ve reconciled. She understands about you now. She’s sorry for causing trouble.”
“That’s lovely, but I’ve lost my job.”
“I’m sorry, babe.”
“Don’t ‘babe’ me! I cried my eyes out when I heard you were dead.”
“It couldn’t be helped. I’m sorry. Listen. I don’t have much time. You’re in danger. I figured it out when I saw about the break-in at your place.”
“Ya think?”
“I didn’t know you’d go to my funeral. All that press. They know about you, figured out where I hid it. Now you’re not safe.”
“Are you going to help me leave town?”
“Got one better. I know what they were looking for.”
“What?”
“A notebook. I kept all my names and stuff in a small notebook.”
“The stuff this case is about? And what would that be?”
“Okay, okay. It’s a police corruption with the Mafia case. In my notebook, I have the names of the officers and Mafia guys involved. The creep who broke into your place was looking for it.”
“Why would he look there?”
“Because that’s where I hid it.”
“Oh my God!” She pushed to her feet and paced.
“Yeah. I’m sorry. There wasn’t any other safe place. I didn’t think they’d find you. Then, you hit the news, and your connection with me came out…”
“They destroyed my house looking for it.”
“I’m so sorry, baby. Maybe they didn’t find it.”
“The police think they did.”
“I’ll tell you where it is then you have to promise me something.”
“What?”
“You’ll take it to that nosy news bastard who lives across the hall.”
“Whit?”
“Yeah. Him.”
“Why?”
“He’ll give it to the police chief and brag about it on the air. Then, they’ll leave you alone. So, you gotta promise, if I tell you where it is, that you’ll do that.”
“I promise. But why can’t I take it to the police myself?”
“The chief won’t see you. And the bad cops’ll make sure you have a fatal accident before you get to him. Besides, the bastard’ll put it on the air. Then, the bad cops and the Mafia guys’ll know you don’t have it. They won’t come around again looking.”
“Okay, okay. You make sense. Where is it?”
“In the one place they didn’t look…”
“Dumpling’s bed?”
“On the nose, babe.” He chuckled. “The one near the kitchen. I taped it to the bottom.”
Bess laughed in spite of the situation. “You’re too much.”
“Look, I’ll get in trouble if I stay on much longer. You promise to do as I said, right?”
“Right. I will.”
“You were great, babe. We had something special. Sorry it had to end this way.”
“Me, too. Be safe.”
“You, too. I’ll be watching when I can.”
“Thanks.” She closed her cell.
The wind picked up. The only sound was the occasional cry of a hungry seagull. Bess retrieved her mug, brushing off the sand, leashed her pug, and headed back to the house. Imagine that. He’s not dead. She smiled. Anger dissipated, and happiness flowed. Glad he’s alive.
After dropping Dumpling off, she picked up the car keys and headed outside. Have to get this furnished a bit before I can go back and clean this up. She planned to stay the night to receive deliveries then return to get the notebook and remove the danger from her life.
Bess spent the day moving furniture, setting up the kitchen, and picking paint colors. By nine o’clock, she was exhausted. Dumpling had already crashed on the bed. Bess crawled between the new sheets and huddled under the down comforter. Too tired for sex, still, she wished Whit were there to warm her and hold her close during the night.
* * * *
The knock on Whit’s door at ten startled him. Fresh from the shower, he fastened the sash on his robe and stowed his coffee mug in the kitchen.
“Bess? What are you doing here?”
“Come, I need you.” She tugged on his sleeve and
headed toward her apartment.
“What’s going on? Let me finish my coffee first.” He turned her around, and they ended up at his kitchen table. He poured her a cup.
She explained everything, except where she got the information. “I can’t tell you that.”
“Why not?”
“I can’t. I promised. It’s a safety thing.”
Whit waved his hand in the air. “Okay, okay. Continue.”
“I want you to come with me…in case.”
“Let me get dressed.”
“Can I watch?”
He laughed. Bess followed him into the bedroom. Whit threw on jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt. Then, together they approached the door to Bess’s apartment with caution, as if it were wired to explode. Once they opened the door with no bomb going off, they padded straight toward the kitchen. A small, green, fuzzy oval lay on the floor.
“That’s her bed?”
“Yep.” Bess turned it over, and there it was. Fastened with duct tape to the rubbery matting on the bottom was a small, black notebook. She detached the tape and stood up.
“We’d better get outta here. Let’s look it over at my place,” Whit said, taking her hand.
They hurried out of the empty apartment and into his. Whit locked all three locks on the door. Bess’s heart pounded.
“Wow. That was scary.”
“Yeah. In a funny way, it was.”
She handed the notebook to Whit. He opened it, paged through, stopping to glance at a page or two from time to time. “There’s a ton of information in here. I don’t know how much will be helpful, but there’s plenty.”
“Take it away. If I never see it again…”
“I know. Time for me to get to work.” Whit changed into a suit and tie, kissed Bess, waved to the dogs, and headed out.
At the studio, he stopped in Sam’s office and shut the door.
“What’s up?” Sam sat slumped over a report. A half-filled cup of coffee took up the last smidgeon of space on her messy desk.
“I’ve got a great lead for a fantastic story.”
“Yeah?” She straightened and narrowed her eyes.
He explained about the notebook, now resting safely in his breast pocket. He smiled to himself as he watched Sam salivate.
“This could be my Pulitzer,” she muttered.
“Our Pulitzer.”
“Gimme, gimme. Where is it?”
“Nope. It goes to the cops right after we look it over. We gotta call the police chief and arrange its safe delivery. But first…I want to make a deal.” Whit took a chair.
“A deal? You have the story of the century, and you want to make a deal? What kind of a newsman are you?”
“One with a conscience. Here’s the deal. Get Bess Cooper’s show, Baking with Bess, back on the air.”
She made a face. “I have no pull with that rinky-dink cable station.”
“I know. But you do here. In fact, you’re the most powerful producer at Eagle Broadcasting.”
“You flatter me.” But Whit saw her puff up.
“It’s true. Get her a five-year contract. I want that done, or I send the notebook to the police chief, anonymously, by courier.” He sat back, propping his feet up on the trash can.
“Why, I can’t…Where would I put the show?”
“Rumor has it you’re canceling that gardening program, anyway. Too many pesticides, his ratings are manure…”
“Ha ha, very funny.”
“It’s true, though, isn’t it?”
“Maybe…I don’t have the power…”
“Stop lying. If you say so, it’ll be done. Especially when you tell them you have an informant with Pulitzer-level information.” Whit studied her face.
“Well, if you put it that way…I suppose I can at least ask.”
Whit pushed to his feet. “Let me know when the contract is ready to sign.”
“I can’t work that fast.”
“Bullshit. I’ve seen you work faster. Remember the Mahoney case?”
“That was an unusual situation.”
“So is this. You have twenty-four hours before I send it.”
“What? You’re joking?” She slammed her mug on the desk, splashing coffee on her report.
“Never been more serious. Twenty-four hours.” He moved toward the door.
“Where’s the info? How do I know it’s safe?”
“You’ll have to trust me.” He heard her snort as he turned.
Using all his willpower, he kept a smug smile at bay until he was alone in his office. He looked over the papers on his desk, trying to concentrate. Happiness filled his veins. Making it up to Bess. When his phone rang, he answered it with cheer.
“Pickford Williams.”
“Hey, Pick. How the hell are ya?”
“You’re in a good mood.”
“Yeah, well, did a good deed today.”
“A boy scout? Is this Whitfield Bass?”
Whit chuckled. “Present and accounted for. What’s up?”
“The job. You’ve got two weeks to say goodbye and pack your bag, buddy.”
“Contract?”
“Six months.”
“Excellent.”
“Meet me for a drink at nine at the Shelton Arms hotel. We’ll sign the contract, go over travel budgets, and that kinda shit.”
“You’re on.” The phone clicked off. Whit sat back and rested his feet on a chair. Perfect. I get Bess situated then I start on my new life. She can use the house while I’m away. No rush to sell it if I’m gone. Perfect timing. He called to tell her he’d be late and sauntered toward makeup.
Sam grabbed his arm. “Contract will be on your desk at nine o’clock tomorrow morning.”
“Good. You can have the info when it’s signed.”
“It’ll be signed by Montgomery.”
“Fine. When Miss Cooper signs it, you’ll get the information.”
“Hardass.”
“Takes one to know one.”
Whit breezed through the newscast. His confidence had never been higher. Nothing like tying up all the loose ends of one’s life. Dr. Sumner was a stroke of genius. I’m cool with keeping the house and moving to Asia.
He arrived at the Shelton Arms early, ordered a scotch on the rocks, and dialed his brother.
“Hey, Jeff. Wanted you to know I’m going to Asia for about six months. Maybe longer.”
“Asia? How come?”
“Taking a job there for New York News Review.”
“A promotion?”
“More of a lateral move.”
“You’re running away.”
“Nope, clearing the field for a new start.”
“I’m sorry.”
“By the way, thanks for referring me to Dr. Sumner.”
“You’re seeing him?”
“Yeah. He’s been very helpful.”
“Has he? And you’re still running away?”
Whit sighed. “I told you. I’m not running away. I’m starting something new.”
“So you say. I’ll miss you. Are you coming to see Dad before you go?”
“I will if I have time.”
“Translation—no. Hey, it’s your life.”
“Even with this shit you’re dumping on me, you’re a great brother, Jeff. You’ve always looked out for me. I never said ‘thank you.’ Want you to know I appreciate it.”
Silence. Then, “You’re my kid brother. Someone’s gotta keep an eye on you.”
“You have. You’re one of the good guys.”
“Thanks. Stay out of trouble. Get married. You won’t regret it.”
“Hey, you found the only good one in the bunch, Jeff. What can I do?” The minute he said it, a wave of guilt washed over him. Thank God, Bess didn’t hear that.
“I thought you had someone.” A hint of suspicion broke through Jeff’s voice.
“She’s sort of a friend.” You never used to be a liar. Sweat broke out on his forehead.
“Friend wit
h benefits.”
“More or less.”
“Can’t pin you down. Always slippery. That hasn’t changed. Hell, your personal life is your own business.”
“Right.”
“I was hoping this might be the one.”
“What happened to my personal life is my own business?”
“I still can’t talk to you, can I? Good luck in Asia, Whit.”
“Thanks.”
Whit didn’t breathe a sigh of relief when the conversation was over. He wanted to keep talking, but didn’t know what to say. Jeff always misunderstands. He’s sort of like talking to Dr. Sumner. Why can’t I make him see I’m okay? He worries too much.
“Hey, Bass, what’s eating you?”
Whit looked up into the chubby face of Pickford Williams. “Hey, Pick, sit down, sit down.”
“Look like you’ve got the weight of the world on your shoulders.”
“Nah. Talking to my brother.”
“Let’s talk about Asia.”
“Okay, shoot.”
The waitress returned, and Pick ordered a scotch for himself and one for Whit. “You’re not my boss’s first choice. Sorry to tell you that.”
Whit cocked an eyebrow. “Oh?”
“Yeah. He wanted Jamison Keller.”
“From Business News Today?”
“Yeah. But Keller’s got some book commitment or other. At least for the next few months.”
“So, I’m on trial? Is that it?”
The server put down their drinks and a bowl of pretzels.
“If you love it there and want to stay, fine. But if you want to return, Keller could fill in.”
“Why are you doing this?”
“Because I know you.”
“What the hell does that mean?” Whit finished his second drink and signaled for another.
“I don’t think you’re serious about Asia.”
“I’ve never been more serious. As soon as I sign that contract, I’m giving notice.”
“Come on, Whit. I know you. Known you for years.”
“And?”
A fresh scotch arrived. Pick ordered nachos. “Something’s up with you.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Only a feeling. You’re a stick-with-it kind of guy.”
“Yeah? So? I’ve been with the station for three years.”