Thicker Than Water Page 11

  He fought down the anger. “You think I’m that heartless?”

  She shrugged, and it made him even madder.

  “I was there, Jones.”

  When her head came up, her dark brown eyes locked on him, looking way more stunned than they ought to, and he wished to God he could take the words back. She didn’t need to see the one and only chink in his defenses. His only soft spot. Dammit, what had he been thinking?

  “You were—you were there?”

  He shrugged as if it were no big deal. “Yeah. Me and my cameras. It was a colossal fuckup. Dead kids everywhere. Mordecai Young, too, they said, when they got around to identifying the bodies.”

  “You have footage?” she asked.

  He licked his lips, formed his words carefully. “The feds confiscated the tapes. Hit me with a gag order. If I’d written the story, my career would have been over right there.”

  She was searching his face, shaking her head slowly. “I can’t believe it,” she said softly. “I can’t believe Sean MacKenzie ever let the government tell him what he could and couldn’t report.”

  He had to look away from those eyes. “It’s not something I’m proud of, Jones. But I was a kid, just starting out. I didn’t have any clout at all in the biz. I’d have lost my job, probably my whole career.” He shook his head slowly.

  “You’ve felt guilty ever since, haven’t you? That’s why you’re such a rogue reporter, with your exposés and your inside dirt. It’s all backlash.”

  “You see right through me, Jones. I’m just a tortured soul, in search of redemption.” He sent her a look. “So you wanna have sex with me now?”

  The look on her face went from one of sympathetic understanding to one of disgust faster than his Porsche could go from zero to sixty. “You are such an asshole.”

  “Ah, come on, I’m sure with the love of a good woman I could be whole again.”

  “Go to hell, MacKenzie.”

  He grinned at her. “Been there. They threw me out ‘cause I made the devil look good.” He turned, starting for the door. “Tell you what. I’m going to milk my sources on this Mordecai Young sighting, you milk yours, and we’ll meet after the evening broadcast to compare notes.”

  “Okay.”

  He stopped with his hand on the doorknob, glancing back at her, surprised by her easy agreement. “Okay? Just like that?”

  “Yeah. Just like that.” She shrugged. “I’m not stupid, MacKenzie, and I’m not blind. I can’t deny you’re good at digging up dirt. In this case, my need to know outweighs my concerns about your sleazy methods and shady sources.”

  He tipped his head to one side. “Damn. You keep flattering me like that and I’ll start thinking you have a crush on me.”

  “Oh, I’ll crush you all right—by showing you up so badly on the air tonight.”

  “That’s the lamest comeback you’ve ever thrown at me. You’re off your game, Jones.”

  “And still kicking your ass, MacKenzie. Even on my worst day.”

  He studied her face for a moment longer, waxing serious in spite of himself. “So what makes today your worst day?”

  She looked back at him, just as serious. “It’s the day they hired you.”

  He smiled. “Much better.” Then he left her office.

  * * *

  Dawn spent the afternoon doing homework and digging through computer files, including Sean MacKenzie’s notes on the Harry Blackwood murder. She got a little queasy when she read that the man’s throat had been cut “practically from ear to ear.” Sean’s notes were extremely detailed. Of course, they were for his eyes only. None of this stuff could be shared with the general public without the police department’s okay. He also mentioned in his notes that her mother had been there either just before or just after he had arrived at a little after midnight. In parentheses he’d made a note to himself: “details in private files.”

  Frowning, Dawn searched for the files marked Private, but they were password protected, every last one of them.

  Sighing, she exited the program and shut down his computer. Then she started loading her homework and textbooks into her backpack, but she paused in the process, staring down at the towel-wrapped shape in the bottom.

  She had to get rid of that thing. But where?

  “Dawn?”

  She looked up fast. Sean stood in the office doorway.

  “How’s it going?” he asked.

  She stuffed her books into the bag on top of the weapon. “Got the homework all done.”

  “Great. Listen, your mom and I are about to go on the air. You wanna go for pizza after?”

  “Pizza’s always good.”

  He nodded. “An hour, then. You gonna watch us?” He nodded toward the TV-VCR mounted high on the office wall.

  “Sure. You gonna wear that?”

  He glanced down at himself. He was wearing faded blue jeans and a skintight black T-shirt. “Hell, I forgot.” He came the rest of the way inside, yanked a short-sleeved black button-down from where it lay on top of a pile of boxes and pulled it on. He had a layer of five-o’clock shadow, but Dawn had the feeling it was staying put. The shirt was the only concession. He was a nonconformist. A rebel.

  Her approval of him moved up another notch.

  “An hour,” he told her.

  “See you then. Break a leg, huh? And make my mom look good.”

  “She doesn’t need me for that, kid.”

  Dawn’s brows went up as he ducked back out of the office. “Well, now,” she muttered to herself. “That’s…interesting.”

  Dawn flicked on the television set to watch the evening broadcast. While the opening credits rolled, she opened one of the boxes that were stacked in the corner of the office and began taking things out of it, placing them around Sean’s office.

  She watched the two of them on the screen. Her mother seemed distracted, not her usual polished, professional self. Sean, on the other hand, was ultra-attentive. And sometimes, when he looked her mom’s way, it was almost as if…

  “Almost nothing,” she muttered, smiling a little as she stared at the TV screen. “He likes her.”

  * * *

  “Our top story tonight,” Julie said, reading the teleprompter, “is the apparent murder of Harry Blackwood. Blackwood was found in an Armory Square hotel room last night, and police are now placing the time of death around midnight. Cause of death has still not been released, and the police are reporting no suspects or leads at this time.”

  It was Sean’s turn, but instead of reading his lines, he adlibbed a few, surprising her. “The police may not be reporting any leads, Julie, but my gut instinct tells me they’re up to their badges in them. Suspects, too.”

  “Gee, Sean, it’s too bad we report facts rather than gut instincts,” she said, and she knew the sarcasm came through in her voice. She almost bit her lip as she glimpsed Allan from the corner of her eye. But he wasn’t scowling at her for her slip. He was nodding, smiling, giving her a thumbs-up.

  “Harry Blackwood had no shortage of enemies,” Sean said. “The women he played, their husbands. Some of them were underworld figures, according to the word on the street.”

  “Isn’t ‘word on the street’ just another term for rumor?”

  “Yeah, but rumors point the way to the facts.” He sent her a wink. “Stick with me, kid. We’ll get to the bottom of this thing together.”

  She looked directly at the camera and said, “If I don’t kill you first.”

  Smiling, Sean launched into the scripted portion of the broadcast. “As you know by now, your News-Four team were the first on the scene at the Armory Square Hotel last night, and we brought you exclusive coverage. We’ll continue to keep you informed as this case unfolds.”

  “That’s right,” Julie cut in. “And now that we’ve got Sean MacKenzie on our team, you can count on getting the gossip as well as the news.”

  It was meant to be a barb. Instead it made him smile. “You’d better believe it. And as long as w
e have Julie Jones to keep me in check, you’ll always know which is which.” He smiled at her; she scowled at him. “And now your first look at the weather with TV Four meteorologist Danny Kellogg. Danny?”

  “Roll four!”

  Danny Kellogg, a big redhead in a nice suit, stood in front of a green screen, grinning. “From the looks of things at the news desk, I’d say the forecast calls for stormy weather. Are those fireworks going off over there, or just lightning?”

  “Don’t make me come over there, Kellogg,” Sean said with a grin.

  Danny smiled back. “Hey, I wasn’t complaining. It’s about time someone put you in line, and our Julie’s just the newswoman to do it.”

  “Ha, she can try.”

  “Watch me,” Julie quipped. And for a moment, she felt a little lighter, joining in the fun banter. Even Danny Kellogg’s usually lame puns and jokes were funny tonight. Just for that hour, she let Sean’s teasing and baiting lure her away from the darkness and fear that had been gathering around her all day. She rose to the challenge and gave as good as she got.

  When they finished the broadcast and went clear, the crew burst into spontaneous applause. Bewildered, Julie stared out at them. “Hell,” she whispered. “That’s never happened before.”

  “We kicked ass,” Sean said, leaning close and keeping his voice low. “You’re really good at this, Jones.”

  She would have considered returning the compliment, but by then Allan was striding across the room toward them, smiling broadly. He clasped Sean’s hand as if to shake it, but yanked him closer and slammed his back with the other palm. Then he released Sean and hugged Julie.

  “I had no idea you two would be this good together!” He was all but shouting. “By God, talk about chemistry. You were perfect. Perfect!”

  Julie removed her microphone, dropped it on the desk. “Glad you enjoyed it, Allan,” she said to her boss. “But I have to go.”

  “Go. You’ve earned it. See you bright and early tomorrow.”

  Nodding, she turned and hurried out of the studio. She was striding down the hall toward her office when the door to Sean’s office—God, but it still burned her that he got an office his first day, when it had taken her three years to earn one—opened. Dawn stood in the doorway and said, “You guys rock! Pizza now?”

  Julie smiled at her daughter without effort. “You have been the picture of patience this afternoon, hon. Pizza it is.”

  “Great.” She slung her backpack onto her shoulder, looking past her mother. “Hey, Sean, you ready?”

  Was he ready? Julie turned to see Sean standing two steps behind her. What was Dawn talking about?

  “Just gotta grab some notes,” Sean said. Moving past Julie, he stepped into his office. Dawn moved aside to let him in, and Julie, wondering what the hell was going on, followed.

  “Hey,” Sean said, looking around his office and nodding in approval. “You didn’t have to do all this, Dawn.”

  There were books on his shelves, and paper clips, stapler and blotter on the desk, along with pencil holders and paperweights. Artwork—mostly framed shots of extreme sports—lined the walls.

  “Got bored,” Dawn said. “So what’s with the photo?”

  Julie followed her daughter’s nod to the old, worn-looking snapshot on the desk, and then she thought she stopped breathing.

  It was a shot of the burned-out rubble that had been the Young Believers’ compound. There were sheet-draped bodies littering the ground, a brilliant orange sun in a cerulean-blue sky backing the scene. A crow sat on the top of a bent, broken section of woven wire fence.

  Sean’s eyes lowered just a little, and his jaw flexed tight beneath the skin as he snatched the photo off the desk and jammed it into a desk drawer. “I thought I put that away.”

  “It’s like some of those pictures of Auschwitz in my World History textbook,” Dawn said.

  He shook his head. “Hey, come on, I’m not that old.”

  Julie studied him, and she knew, when he glanced into her eyes and looked away quickly, that he knew what she was thinking. He’d told her that the feds had confiscated everything he had from the raid on the Young Believers’ compound. But he’d lied. He still had that photo, and who knew what else? She tried to ask him with her eyes, but he pretended not to see the question and changed the subject.

  “Since we have to compare notes on this Young tip anyway, I told Dawn we could do it over pizza. That okay with you?”

  It took her a moment to shake off her questions and focus on his actual words. When she did, she said, “So long as it’s takeout and we eat it at my place. The locksmiths are coming to change the locks at seven. I don’t want to miss them.”

  “Fine by me,” Dawn said. “I already called Joe’s and ordered. Should be ready by the time we get there.” She sent her mother a sweet smile. “Mom, since we’re all going the same way, is it all right if I ride with Sean again?”

  Julie sent Sean a questioning glance.

  “Oh, sure. Would you even ask if I were driving a Chevy?”

  “Nope,” she said. “Can I drive again?”

  “Halfway,” he said. “From here to the pizza joint, or from the pizza joint to your place.”

  “From the pizza joint to our place,” Julie said before Dawn could answer. “Less traffic and a shorter distance.”

  Dawn rolled her eyes but softened the expression with a wink. “Told you she worries too much.”

  Julie got into her daughter’s Jeep, which she’d driven in to work that morning, and led the way. After stopping to pick up the pizza—Dawn had ordered two small pizzas, two dozen hot wings, garlic bread and dipping sauce—Julie continued a little more slowly, watching the rearview constantly. She had to admit, Dawn did pretty well.

  Still, she paid more attention to her daughter driving that powerful car behind her than she did to the traffic ahead of her. In fact, she was so focused on Dawn and the Porsche that she didn’t notice the other cars in her driveway at first.

  But then she did. There was a police squad car with two officers leaning on it, and a plainer-looking, dark blue Ford with a third person. Pale blond hair shone like sunlight, and she recognized Lieutenant Jackson. All three cops were apparently waiting for her. She tried to look unconcerned as she sent them a wave, hit the button for the overhead garage door and pulled the Jeep into the two-car garage. Her Mercedes was already inside, delivered, as promised, by one of the station’s interns earlier in the day.

  Dawn brought the Porsche to a squeaking halt in the street, then started grinding gears as she tried to get it to move again. Julie frowned at her daughter as she walked out of the garage. She saw Sean leaning over her, guiding her through pulling the car into the driveway, and she wondered why Dawn, who had done so well up until then, was messing up suddenly.

  Dawn shut the car off, and Sean got out, coming to join Julie as she approached the officers. Dawn didn’t, though. Instead she hovered close to Sean’s car, looking nervous. Julie forced her attention to the cops, though Dawn was acting off-kilter.

  “Officers, Lieutenant,” she said in greeting. “What brings you out here?”

  “This does,” one of the uniforms said, handing Julie a piece of paper.

  She frowned at it, then frowned more deeply. When she lifted her questioning gaze, she fixed it on Jackson, not the cop who’d handed her the sheet. “Is this a search warrant?” She was so surprised she thought she sounded mildly amused. She wasn’t.

  “I’m sorry about this, Ms. Jones,” Jackson said, sounding all business. “We’re just doing our jobs.”

  “But…why?”

  Lieutenant Jackson nodded at the two cops. “You want to give them your keys, so we can get started, Ms. Jones?”

  She swallowed hard. “I don’t…I don’t have my house key. It was lost.”

  “When?”

  “At the hotel, when I was there covering the murder.” She nodded toward Dawn. “Give the officer your key, Dawn,” she called.

 
; Dawn frowned, but complied as one of the officers went to get it from her.

  Julie felt shaky, but Sean put his hand on her shoulder, and somehow just that touch helped her to steady herself. She drew strength from his hand, from his presence, and no matter how little sense it made, she was grateful that he was with her.

  “Tell us what grounds you have to search Julie’s house, Jax,” he said. “Come on, give us a break here.”

  Jackson sighed. “It’s just a precaution. We got an anonymous tip we’d find the murder weapon here.”

  Julie sucked in a sharp breath, her eyes widening. “And you took it seriously?”

  “Well, you were at the scene of the crime, Ms. Jones. One witness puts your car in the hotel’s parking garage an hour before the time you told us you arrived at the hotel. Combined with your little accident at the crime scene—” When Julie jerked in surprise, she added, “Yeah, I know about that. Walking into the room, spilling your purse, losing your keys. Is that when your house keys disappeared?”

  She nodded. “When I got the key ring back, they were gone.”

  “Which means,” Sean said, “that whoever took them was also at the crime scene. Maybe it was even the killer—who would have had access to the murder weapon. How do you know this anonymous tip of yours isn’t just an elaborate frame-up, Jax?”

  She shrugged. “We don’t. We just know that what we have so far was enough to convince a judge we ought to take a look around Ms. Jones’s house.”

  Julie stiffened her spine, gathered her courage. “Do you have any proof my car was there at the time this so-called witness says it was?”

  Jax licked her lips. “To be honest, no. The garage surveillance tapes are too fuzzy to get the plate number, and the witness didn’t get it.”

  “So it could have been any silver Mercedes,” Sean said.

  Julie rolled her eyes. “Any one except mine, because mine wasn’t there.” She met Jackson’s eyes and waved an arm toward the house. “Be my guest. Search to your heart’s content. I’ve got nothing to hide.” Except the photographs of Harry at the Young Believers’ compound, which were safely tucked away in her purse, she reminded herself. Though it might be best if she burned them at the very next opportunity.