Dawn Stewardson - The Full Story

But she’d better be sure she had all the blanks filled in right.

“So somebody’s out to kill Billy Brent,” she said. “And you’re expecting the guy to show up here.”

“Forget you heard that.”

“It’s not an easy kind of thing to forget. Are we talking a hit man? A hired killer?”

When Dan didn’t reply, she said, “Don’t you know?”

Wow. She could actually see him getting madder. Obviously, he didn’t like the implication that he was even marginally in the dark.

“It’s probably a contract,” he muttered at last.

Good, she was getting somewhere.

“And has this guy already tried to kill Billy? Or did someone warn him that there was a contract on him? I mean, how did he know he was in danger?”

Dan remained silent again, so she decided that asking him direct questions wasn’t the way to go. She might be better off just hypothesizing.

“I gather Billy’s been in hiding,” she pressed on. “But now he’s gone to New York. And if the killer’s heard about that TV appearance, he—”

“Look,” Dan snapped. “First, this is none of your business. Second, I don’t intend to discuss it with you. And third, just keep it entirely to yourself.”

She stared at him for a moment, wondering whether he actually thought there was even a remote chance of that.

For a journalist, a scoop like this one was heaven-sent. And she was the only journalist who had even an inkling about it, which made it that much better.

“Obviously,” Dan added, “Billy is thousands of miles away, and that means you’re not going to get your interview. So since I am expecting the killer to show up, the sooner you get out of here the better. Where’s your car?”

“Down the road.”

“Fine. I’ll drive you to it. Let’s get going.”

“Uh-uh. I’m staying.”

“What?”

His expression said he didn’t believe he could have heard right, so she said, “Look, whether the killer comes here or you go to New York to help your friend find Billy, this is a major story. And I want it.”

“What?” he said a second time, giving her an even more incredulous look.

“I said I want the story. Don’t you think I have aspirations beyond Arts and Entertainment?”

“How the hell should I know? We’ve barely met.”

“Well, I do. I want to see my byline on the front page every now and then. Preferably, more than every now and then. Dan, this is the kind of story that will do a lot to make that happen, and I might never get as good a chance again. So however things play out, I want an exclusive for the Post.”

“Listen to me carefully,” he said, enunciating his words clearly. “There is no story. There are only the two of us heading to your car. Period.”

Telling herself it was time for another change of tactics, she shrugged and reached for her laptop.

“Okay. If that’s the way it is, then I’ll have to simply write up what I have and e-mail it to my editor. It won’t be nearly the scoop I was hoping for, but just the fact that somebody’s trying to kill Billy Brent will sell a lot of papers.”

“Fine. If selling papers is so important to you, go right ahead and put Billy’s life at even greater risk than it already is.”

“How would I be doing that? If somebody’s already trying to kill him, how would my reporting it put him at any more risk? In fact, it could do the opposite. The publicity might make the killer back off.”

Dan was clearly annoyed by her logic, but he didn’t try to argue with it.

Not arguing, though, was a long way from cooperating. And without his help she wasn’t going to get the whole story, which she desperately wanted.

“Do whatever you like,” he muttered at last. “It doesn’t really matter, because by tomorrow’s edition this will be over. Either the killer will have shown up here, in which case I’ll have taken care of him, or we’ll have Billy back in hiding.”

“Tomorrow’s edition?” she said in her best puzzled manner.

“Well, you’re too late for today’s—unless the Post comes out hours after most papers.”

“But I wasn’t talking about the print edition. This is what we call breaking news. If I give the story to my boss it’ll be the lead in our online edition within minutes. So…well, maybe you’d like to reconsider. Because if you promise me an exclusive of the entire thing, I’ll hold back now.”

“You’re trying to blackmail me,” he snapped.

“No. I’m only negotiating a deal.”

“I HAVE TO KNOW whether I can trust her,” Dan said into his cell phone.

As Lydia said “No problem,” he glanced at the library door.

He’d closed it tightly before making his call, because he already knew there was at least one thing about Mickey Westover that he couldn’t trust. She had no compunction when it came to eavesdropping.

However, he was speaking quietly and that was a solid-core door.

“So check out her reputation in general,” he continued. “And specifically contact some of the other celebrities she’s done these articles on. See if anything appeared in print that she assured them wouldn’t.”

“No problem,” Lydia said again, her tone amused this time—letting him know that she didn’t need him telling her how to do her job.

And she didn’t, of course. All of the research operatives at Risk Control International were good, but she was the best.

“I need to hear back soon,” he added, although he probably didn’t have to tell her that, either.

“You’ve got it, Dan. I’ll call and let you know whatever I can learn fast. Then, if it’s necessary, I’ll start digging more thoroughly.”

“Good. Thanks, Lydia.”

“That’s what I’m here for.”

Dan clicked off and started back to where he’d left Mickey in the kitchen.

He was feeling marginally better, but only marginally.

Oh, hell, who was he trying to kid? He was still fit to be tied.

As clichéd as that phrase might be, it was the best one he could think of to describe how he was feeling—although downright homicidal was certainly a strong contender.

He didn’t recall ever having seriously considered murdering someone before, not even any of the low-life he’d dealt with during his years as a cop. But right this minute he could cheerfully strangle Mickey Westover.

She was trying to blackmail him into agreeing to what she wanted—regardless of how she put it. And as much as he disliked the idea of agreeing to a damn thing…

Ken Heath had been right. The odds were low that whoever was stalking Billy had caught this morning’s Sherry Sherman Show.

However, if news about a hit man being after Billy went online it would immediately be picked up by every TV and radio station in North America.

And it was far too easy to picture Billy’s would-be killer driving through the mountains, almost here, when the car radio told him that he was heading straight into a trap—because Mickey had included that information in her story.

Yes, downright homicidal was definitely right up there with fit to be tied.

Eyeing Mickey’s slender throat, he imagined his hands wrapped around it.

All that did, though, was start him thinking that if her pale skin felt as smooth as it looked, then once he’d touched it, strangling her would be the last thing on his mind.

He told himself to lose that thought.

Mickey Westover might be a good-looking woman, and he’d admit there was something awfully sexy about her, but she was annoying as hell.

Of course, she was just trying to get ahead, which wasn’t something he’d fault her for under different circumstances.

And now that he’d had time to consider, he realized that she didn’t really represent a serious problem. Not short-term, at least.