Lisa Gardner - The Survivors Club

“No way. That's my scoop!”

“Yes way. That's our evidence and once we seize it, we can do whatever we see fit.”

“Goddammit, Griffin! I liked you so much better before-” Maureen's protest ended abruptly. She seemed to realize what she was about to say, then even she had the good grace to blush.

Griffin said nothing. He just stared at her. He'd gotten good at this stare over the last year. Sometimes, especially in the first few months after the Big Boom, he'd find himself standing in front of a mirror just staring like this. Like he was trying to look into his own eyes and get some sense of the man living there.

“I want the tape,” he repeated. “It's evidence. And anything you do to it, including developing it or copying it, would be considered tampering with evidence. We got sixty state detectives crawling all over this one city block, Maureen, not to mention well over a hundred uniforms. Do you really think the attorney general is going to take kindly to hearing how some local reporter tampered with a potentially critical piece of evidence?”

Maureen gnawed her lower lip, looked a great deal less certain. “I want a deal,” she said abruptly.

“Why, Maureen, are you confessing to a crime?”

“We cooperate, hand over the tape-”

“You mean we seize it.”

“We hand it over. In return for some kind of consideration. An exclusive interview with the colonel.”

Griffin laughed.

“The major,” she amended.

Griffin laughed harder.

“The detective commander. Come on, Griffin. This is exclusive footage you're taking from me. Best damn visual of my career. We deserve at least an interview. Plus, exclusive rights to the copy of the tape. No releasing it to the general population. If they didn't look up, it's their own fucking problem.”

“Your compassion touches me.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. What do you say? Five minutes with the detective commander, exclusive tape rights.”

“Thirty seconds, primary case officer, exclusive tape rights.”

“Three minutes.”

“One, with approval in advance of the questions. Otherwise, you're only going to get no comment.”

Maureen scowled. She shot him a sideways glance. “Are you going to be the lead investigator, Griffin?”

“A lead investigator will be assigned when a lead investigator is assigned.”

“Because that would be a good story, you know. Rhode Island 's golden boy returning to the war. A lot of people didn't think you'd come back after the Candy Man case. A lot of people weren't sure you'd have the interest, and others weren't sure you'd have the guts. Do you love the job that much, Griffin, or is it one of those things that simply gets under the skin?” She changed tactics. “I understand that he still sends you letters.”

“One minute with the primary case officer. Yes or no, Maureen. The deal is off the table in five, four, three, two-”

“Okay,” she said hastily. “Okay. One minute with the primary case officer. We'll take it.” She sighed, devoted another moment to looking forlorn as she saw her dream of a lead five o'clock news piece go up in smoke, then got over it. “That'll teach us not to shoot live,” she muttered. “Well, you might as well come inside. You're going to want to see this.”

In the back of the van, Jimmy had his huge camera hooked up to an external monitor. He and Maureen hadn't developed the tape yet, but had been running it over and over again, looking for the best cut. Now Jimmy hit play one last time. The visual lasted seventy-five seconds, and it showed everything. Absolutely everything.

“How the hell did you get this?” Griffin demanded immediately, angrily. He took two steps forward before Waters could stop him, and had Maureen pressed against the control panel running along the side of the van. “Are you toying with us?”

“No, no, I swear-”

“Did you get an anonymous tip? A Deep Throat telling you something big was going down, but you just didn't feel like sharing it with us?”

“ Griffin, Griffin, you have it all wrong-”

“You never taped the ACI van! That entire footage is of the rooftop ! There are eleven other news teams out on that lawn, Maureen. All of them were looking at the van, all of them were shooting the van. So why were you looking up? What the hell did you know that they didn't?”

“I don't know!” she cried. Her chin came up, her shoulder squared against the control panel. “I just… The whole morning I kept thinking someone was watching me. I'm not kidding. I had shivers down my spine, hairs going up on the nape of my neck. No matter where I went, what I did, I could just feel… something. Then, I heard a shout that the van was coming, so I started to adjust my mike and I… I looked up. One last time. At the roof. I swore I saw a movement. So I hit Jimmy on the arm and told him to shoot the roof. Now.”

“I thought she was nuts,” Jimmy spoke up from the rear. “But hey, it's not like a shot of the outside of a blue van is anything special. So I focused on the roof of the courthouse and well, what do you know? This guy pops up and opens fire. Really damn freaky. I figure we could get national coverage out of this.”

“Awards,” Maureen spoke up. “Definitely awards.” The light in her eyes had gone full glow again. Pressed against the side of the van, she shivered.

Very slowly, Griffin stepped back. His hands were still fisted at his sides. He worked now on letting his fingers go, forcing his shoulders to come down and his breathing to relax. He felt suddenly disgusted. And he was aware for the first time that Waters was watching him nervously. Maureen and Jimmy, too. Everyone was probably thinking about that damn basement. Maybe they should.

He took another deep breath, focused on his racing pulse and slowly counted to ten.

“Tape,” he prodded once he trusted himself to speak. Reluctantly, Jimmy opened his camera and popped out the digital cassette. Waters provided the evidence bag. Jimmy gave the tape one last, lingering look, then dropped it in.

“You'll remember our deal,” Maureen said.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.”

“If we can get a copy before four,” she said seriously, “we can still make the five o'clock news.”

“I'll be sure to tell CIU.” Copy before four. She'd be lucky to get a copy in six months.

Maureen leaned against the side of the van. She'd lost this round, but he could tell she was already plotting her next battle. “Hey, Griffin, be honest. That guy's dead now, isn't he? Blown up in that parking lot after assassinating Eddie Como?”

“No comment.”

“That's what I thought. You'll be talking to the vics now? The three women?”

“No comment.”

“Maybe they'll hold a press conference. That would be nice. Over the last year we've certainly scored some serious ratings off those three and their little club.” Maureen bit her lower lip. “I wonder if there's a way I could get them to do an exclusive this time…”

“The rape vics like to hold press conferences?” Griffin looked at Waters in confusion.

Maureen, however, did the honors. “Jesus Christ, Griffin, where have you been? Right after the death of Trisha Hayes those women practically owned the five o'clock news. The sister, Jillian, got them united in some sort of group. The Survivors Club, they call it. Then they started sending out the press releases. Worked like a charm. Before they went public, people knew about the attacks, but weren't losing a lot of sleep over it. You know how people are-violent crimes happen to someone else. Especially rape. That definitely happens to other women-you know, poor women, minority women, women living in high-risk areas or leading high-risk lives. Except one day, the general public turned on the TV and there were the three victims-beautiful, white, well-educated and well-to-do. Two aren't even sweet young things but respectable, middle-aged women, leading respectable, middle-class lives.