Headline: Murder. Maggie K. Black

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СКАЧАТЬ an eye out for other opportunities to pay the bills. She came to work every day expecting to be told to pack her metaphorical suitcase. What good was a family if some people just left to chase their own dreams—and others were kicked out?

      Her cell phone started to ring. She glanced at the number but didn’t recognize it.

      “I’ll let you get that.” Vince leaned back. Worry filled his gaze. “Monday, I want you and I to sit down and talk through your future with the paper. I’m sorry, I know you really want to move to writing full-time. I’m just not sure that’s where your talents are best suited.”

      “Got it. Thanks.” She nodded numbly.

       How on earth am I going to change his mind over the course of a weekend?

      She went out into the hall and closed the editor’s door behind her. Thankfully, the caller hadn’t given up. “Hello?”

      “Hello, Olivia?” The voice was deep and soothing, yet somehow it still managed to send shivers running down her spine. “This is Daniel Ash, the man from the parking garage.”

      Her breath caught in her chest. Daniel?

      For a moment, she nearly ran back into Vince’s office to put the call on speakerphone.

      If only he hadn’t just said he was thinking of assigning the story to someone else and that she didn’t belong in the writing pool.

      “Daniel! Hi! Hang on.” She glanced over her shoulder and then slipped down another flight of stairs. In a moment, she was outside in the muggy August heat. She leaned back against the brick. “It’s...it’s really great to hear from you. How did you find me?”

      “Your name and newspaper were on your press badge. I found your cell number on the newspaper website. You’re a reporter, right?”

      She glanced at the windowsill above. “I am.”

       At least until Monday.

      There was a pause on the other end of the phone. “Is there any chance you could you meet me for coffee? I’m looking for advice about talking to the press...and you’re the only reporter I know.”

      “Sure. Of course.” She pressed her lips together and hoped she already knew the answer to the question she was about to ask. “About what kind of story?”

      She heard Daniel take in a long breath and let it out slowly.

      “It’s about Brian Leslie’s murder.”

THREE

      Heat shimmered off the highway like a mirage. The weather report had predicted dangerous thunderstorms all weekend. Olivia glanced at her cell phone. It had been about an hour and a half since she and Ricky had left Toronto and started north, and her cell phone signal was down to just one bar. A rundown motel and camping trailer park loomed ahead. A giant tattered clown sign told them to take the next exit for their fairground.

      She shivered. “I think we turn here.”

      They pulled off the rural highway onto a smaller country road. When Daniel had told her that he’d be at his house in the country until some time next week, she’d decided it was better to offer to drive up there to meet him right away, instead of telling him she might be unemployed by the time he came back to the city.

      When she’d told Ricky, he’d immediately offered to drive up with her, even though she suspected he might have blown off a weekend assignment from Vince to help her. An uneasy feeling was fluttering in her chest. She hadn’t told Vince about the call from Daniel or that she was going to meet him. But Daniel had stressed he just wanted to meet for coffee to get her advice, nothing more. This wasn’t an interview. This was just coffee. Still, no matter how hard she tried to convince herself that driving up to meet Daniel wasn’t really the same as slipping off to the courts in the middle of the day without telling Vince, the unsettled feeling inside her wasn’t convinced.

      The thin rural road snaked past abandoned barns and ramshackle buildings, ragged from years of neglect. Broken windows peeked out from empty farmhouses. An empty strip mall loomed on her left, surrounded by a crude chained-metal barrier fence.

      It was practically a ghost town.

      “I can’t tell if we’re lost or not.” Ricky glanced at his cell phone. “I’ve got no signal now.”

      They probably had another half hour before the sun began to set. Without streetlights there was no telling how dark this road would get. Then she saw a red-and-white awning ahead on her left next to a faded sign offering gas. A sigh of relief left her lungs.

      “I think that’s it.” A bright green pickup truck sat on the edge of the gravel parking lot. There was fresh glass in the back window and bullet holes in the tailgate. “Actually, if you could pull just past the lot and park down the road a bit, that would be great.”

      Ricky did so. “Everything okay?”

      “Absolutely. Daniel just seemed really hesitant about whatever he wants to talk to me about. He must have stressed three times that this was going to be nothing more than a casual chat over coffee, and that this needed to be private. So I don’t want to spook him by showing up with a photographer, even if you’re mostly just here as a friend.”

      “Got it.” Ricky grinned. “Actually, would you be okay if I drove back down the road a bit and tried to find a cell phone signal? I’d like to call my folks. They live about half an hour north of where we turned off the highway. If that megastorm hits early, we might be able to crash there tonight instead of driving back into the city.”

      Dark clouds had already started to gather at the horizon. If the storm really was as bad as forecasters feared, the road back to Toronto might even flood. Might make sense to drive north and wait until the roads reopened. But the worst of the rain wasn’t supposed to hit until well after midnight. Surely they’d be back home long before then.

      “Sure, just don’t be gone too long.”

      “I won’t. Just going to drive back to the creepy clown motel. Shouldn’t take me more than thirty minutes. Forty tops.”

      “Sounds good.” She got out of the car and walked toward the truck stop. Humid air tickled her skin. Bells clanged gently as she stepped through the doorway. Daniel was sitting at a table by the window. He looked up and gave her a slight wave. An unexpected shiver ran down her arms. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this nervous about meeting someone for coffee.

       Get hold of yourself, Olivia. This isn’t really “meeting a guy for coffee.” It’s hardly a date. He’s a potential story source and witness to a murder.

      She smiled professionally and started toward him, memorizing him down to every last detail. He had broad shoulders and strong arms. His plaid shirt was faded and the top two buttons were open. Dark eyes like mocha gazed straight into hers, with a look that was friendly yet also determined not to let her too deeply inside. He was unconventionally good-looking, with the air of a man who was used to keeping secrets.

       Who are you, Daniel Ash? And how are you connected to Brian Leslie’s murder?

      “Olivia! СКАЧАТЬ