Jacqueline Diamond - The Baby Scheme

At last she finished the transcription. She had to write on her laptop because it was all she had, but she didn’t dare dial up to the Internet to look for a job or check out Dr. Graybar’s background because Payne would be able to trace her every move. Just thinking about him made her blood pressure soar.

First chance she got, she was going to take her computer in to be debugged, Alli resolved. In the meantime, she didn’t plan to let fear isolate her in this small apartment.

She dug through papers strewn across her thrift-store desk. Surely somewhere in the pile lurked a coupon from the local copy shop, which rented computers with Internet access. Although the library also had a few, they were almost always busy.

The coupon eluded her. Alli did find a half-price sandwich deal from the Black Cat Café, a nearby hangout. It was after five o’clock and her stomach sounded a warning growl. Okay, she’d make the sandwich her first order of business and then she’d draw on her limited funds to surf some job-related Web sites at full price.

Besides, she was feeling stifled in the bland unit with its worn carpeting and tiny kitchenette. If she’d bothered to do more than hang a few posters on the wall, that might have helped, but a used foldout sofa, a tired bureau and a scarred coffee table didn’t exactly brighten the place.

As she drove, Alli’s thoughts returned to the phone call she’d received yesterday morning. Rita Hernandez had sounded angry and frightened at the same time as she’d described how a caller had tried to extort twenty thousand dollars from her to keep silent about the supposedly illegal adoption of her four-year-old daughter.

“I don’t even know if it’s true!” she’d protested. “But how can I go to the police? I’ve read about cases like this. If there’s anything hinky about how a baby was acquired for adoption, even though the person had nothing to do with it, sometimes immigration insists on sending the child back to complete strangers.”

Although only thirty-nine, she had chronic health problems that precluded a pregnancy, she’d explained. She and her husband had been turned down by adoption agencies because they feared her ailments would interfere with parenting. However, that hadn’t proved to be the case.

“We love our daughter and she loves us,” she’d said tearfully. “Then this jerk calls and demands twenty thousand dollars. We’re struggling to pay the rent and health insurance. He’s given us a week to come up with the money, but it’s impossible. What are we supposed to do?”

Alli had jumped at the chance to help her. Also, she saw a story here that went beyond Rita’s personal situation. The doctors who’d arranged for the adoption must have helped lots of other couples. Were they being blackmailed, too? If so, by whom?

During the interview, Dr. Abernathy had appeared dismayed to learn that the orphanage might be operating illegally and seemed horrified about the blackmail. Although Alli wasn’t thrilled at the way he’d clammed up at that point, she tended to believe in his innocence.

She wished Kevin weren’t so pigheaded about pooling their resources. It simply made sense, from her point of view. But he’d always had a hardheaded attitude toward the news media.

Inside the Black Cat, Alli’s senses took a moment to adjust to the dim lighting and the chatter bouncing off hardwood surfaces. Once she could see, she spotted a couple of familiar faces. The café was popular with the Outlook staff.

People nodded in her direction, but no one waved her over to a table as they might have done a few days before. The reason was obvious: J. J. Morosco and Ned Jacobson sat in one corner, having drinks.

Judging by the printouts and charts littering their table, she guessed the two editors were reviewing plans for the news operation. The other staff members must be afraid that their jobs, too, would go on the chopping block.

Luckily, she didn’t have to worry about supporting a family, Alli reflected as she waited at the take-out counter. That was one of the many advantages of staying single and child-free.

She was ordering pastrami on rye when Larry emerged from the café’s back room with another photographer, Bob Midland. Noting the editors, he muttered, “I’ll wait for you outside.”

“You got it,” Alli said. As the counterman rang up her bill, the managing editor glanced her way. “Hi, J.J.,” she called breezily. “How’s it hanging?”

The entire room fell silent. Ned averted his face.

“Fine,” the M.E. answered politely.

“See you around.” After paying for her order and collecting the takeout sack, she strolled outside.

Alli had learned long ago that the best way to handle an awkward situation was to tough it out. During her school days, her cocky attitude might have alienated some teachers, but it had rallied her spirits while she moved around the country with her mother, a graphic artist whose jobs were often temporary.

She found Larry leaning against her car. “What’s happening with you?” he asked. “Any job prospects?”

“Not yet.” She pushed a strand of hair out of her face and realized she’d forgotten to brush it. She hadn’t put on lipstick, either, but what was the point? It would only smear on her sandwich. “Need a ride?” she asked as she unlocked the car.

“Actually, yes. I rode over with Bob. I’m on duty tonight. Do you mind dropping me at the paper?”

“Doesn’t bother me.” She didn’t see why she should be ashamed about having gotten the boot. It was Ned and Payne who ought to be ashamed, and J.J. for not paying closer attention to her accomplishments.

During the ride, she inquired about the mood in the news-room since she’d left. “I’ll bet you could cut the tension with an X-Acto knife.”

“Yeah. It’s miserable. Everybody’s afraid of getting the ax.” He pushed his glasses higher on his nose.

“I’m sorry to hear it.” People couldn’t do their best work when they had to keep looking over their shoulders.

“This morning, a couple of reporters brought laptops to work,” Larry added. “I think they’re scared Payne will steal their stuff.”

Although each employee had an individual password to the paper’s networked computers, Payne had begun stealing Alli’s notes almost as soon as he’d arrived. She assumed that either he had a talent for hacking or he’d found the passwords in his uncle’s desk, in which case nobody was safe.

“You’d better warn them not to leave their laptops unattended,” she replied. “He loaded spyware onto mine.”

“I already put the word out.”

She drove another block before asking, “What’s Payne up to? Don’t tell me he’s doing some actual reporting.”

“Did you read this morning’s paper?”

“I’m afraid not.” Accustomed to receiving a copy at work, she’d never subscribed. If she were to start taking a paper now, she’d prefer to study one of the larger papers where she might be applying.

“He wrote a follow-up to the exposé,” Larry said. “While Ned was editing it, he kept yelling about risking a libel suit.”

“Payne must have used the stuff I was saving for my side-bar. I’m sure he didn’t bother to track down anything on his own. Obviously he didn’t write it very well, either.” Alli took some satisfaction in that.

One of the reasons she hadn’t turned in her story a day earlier was that she wanted to take extra care with the allegations about Mayor LeMott. Payne must have slept through his libel class in journalism school, or perhaps he was too lazy to care.

She made a left on Bordeaux Way. “It’s good to know the other reporters believe my version of events.”

“Sure they do. Besides, they recognized your style in yesterday’s article,” Larry told her.