Meredith’s story had not made the paper. Instead they printed something generic, mild, unprovocative, submitted by the pimply faced junior who thought he was Jimmy Olsen, Boy Reporter. All bases covered, all legal angles considered.
She needed to get out of this hick town.
It had been the best story she’d ever written. Consigned to the trash bin.
She pushed her chair back from the computer with a sigh and walked to the window. She grabbed her right foot in her hand, and folded her leg back to give it a good stretch. Nothing new on the Internet today in the way of openings for a reporter on a big city paper.
An RCMP car drove past, heading toward the city police station. Probably for a dull, routine meeting. She wondered who was behind the wheel.
Tocek?
For some reason thinking about Constable Adam Tocek always made her think about sex.
But she didn’t have a chance with him, and so, for the first—and hopefully the last—time, she’d sent a man after another woman.
He’d walked her to her car, that night at the Grizzly Resort, after the ambulances had left, sirens screaming, and Sergeant Winters had surrendered his weapon, and Molly Smith, pale and on the verge of shock, had been bundled into the back of a police car.
Meredith had put her hand on the door frame of her own car. She began to step in, but stopped. “Okay,” she’d said to Tocek, looming over her. “I’ll tell you one thing. Moonlight Smith and I have never been friends. To be honest, we pretty much hate each other. You might not know this, but her fiancé was murdered by a druggie. I guess that’s why she became a cop.”
“If you’re stopped at the highway, have them contact me,” he said. “I’ll tell them we want you out of here as fast as possible.”
“Get as smart as you like. But first, I’m going to tell you something you can take to the bank.” It would appear that, here tonight, all had ended well, and although Meredith might tell herself tomorrow morning, and in the years to come, that she’d helped to make it so, she knew, at this moment, deep in her heart, that she’d screwed up. She’d come across a great story, and she’d be heading back to the
Gazette
offices to file it. If she was lucky, one of the wire services or the major papers would pick it up.
But before she left, she’d try to make restitution, somehow. “I saw Molly watching you, after you turned away. I saw her look at you at the grow-op bust the other day, when you walked back to your car. Molly Smith carries around so much emotional baggage, it’s burying her. You dig underneath all of that, Adam, and you’ll find a woman who cares for you.”
Meredith pulled the door shut and threw the car into reverse.
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