His voice was so tight with anger that I thought he might lunge at Emily. I slid into the space between them and tried to salvage an unrecoverable situation. Over Barnett’s shoulder I saw Orton pointing toward the door we had come through from the office.
“Get out of here,” he said, his voice rising with each word. “Get out!”
I knew my questions were not going to be answered by Orton or his lawyer, but I wanted them on the record.
“How’d you do it?” I asked. “Whose DNA was it?”
Orton didn’t answer. He kept his hand raised and pointing toward the door. Barnett started pushing me that way.
“What’s really going on here?” I yelled. “Tell me about dirty four, Dr. Orton.”
Barnett shoved me harder then, and I hit the door with my back. But I saw that the impact of my words hit Orton harder. Dirty four had registered with him and for a moment I saw the facade of anger slip. Behind it was... trepidation? Dread? Fear? There was something there.
Barnett shoved me into the hallway and I had to turn to keep my balance.
“Jack!” Emily cried.
“Don’t fucking touch me, Barnett,” I said.
“Then get the hell out of here,” the lawyer said.
I felt Emily’s hand on my arm as she walked by me.
“Jack, come on,” she said. “We have to go.”
“You heard her,” Barnett said. “Time to go.”
I followed Emily down the hall in the direction we had come from. The lawyer followed to make sure we kept going.
“And I can tell you something right now,” he said. “If you print one word about Dr. Orton or one photograph, we will sue you and your website into bankruptcy. You understand that? We will own you.”
Twenty seconds later we were getting into Emily’s car and slamming the doors. Barnett stood in the main entrance of the building and watched. I saw him looking down at the front license plate of Emily’s car. Once we were in, he turned and disappeared inside.
“Jesus Christ, Jack!” Emily yelled.
Her hands were shaking as she pushed the button to start the engine.
“I know, I know,” I said. “I blew it.”
“That’s not what I’m talking about,” she said. “You didn’t blow anything, because they fucking knew why we were coming. We were never going to get anything. They cleared everybody out of there, then started the phony dog-and-pony show. They were trying to extract information, not give it.”
“Well, we got something. Did you see his face when I said dirty four?”
“No, I was too busy trying to not get thrown into a wall.”
“Well, it hit him. I think it scared him that we know about it.”
“But what do we actually know?”
I shook my head. It was a good question. I had another.
“How’d they know what we were there for? I had it set up through corporate PR.”
“Somebody we talked to.”
Emily pulled out of the industrial park and headed back toward my Jeep.
“No,” I said. “No way. The two guys I talked to today, the detective and the lawyer, they hate Orton’s guts. And one of them gave me the name. You don’t do that and then turn around and warn Orton about why we’re coming.”
“Well, they knew,” Emily insisted.
“What about your FTC guy?”
“I don’t know. I don’t see it. I didn’t say anything about us coming down here.”
“Maybe he just tipped them off, said a reporter was sniffing around. Then Orton gets word from corporate in Indianapolis to let me in. He calls his lawyer guard dog and is waiting for us.”
“If it was him, I’ll find out. Then I’ll burn his ass at the stake.”
The tension from the confrontation turned to relief now that we were in the car and away from Orange Nano. I involuntarily started to laugh.
“That was crazy,” I said. “I thought for a moment the lawyer was going to go after you.”
Emily started shaking her head and smiling, casting off tension herself.
“I thought he was too,” she said. “But that was nice of you, Jack, to step in there between us.”
“It would have been pretty bad if something I said got you attacked,” I said.
A City of Irvine patrol car went streaking past us, its lights flashing but no siren engaged.
“You think that’s for us?” Emily asked.
“Who knows?” I said. “Maybe.”
22
Myron Levin frowned and told us that he needed to pull us off the story.
“What?” I said. “Why?”
We were sitting in the conference room — Emily, Myron, and me — after Emily’s and my long, separate rides back to L.A. We had just spent thirty minutes reviewing the events in Orange County.
“Because it actually isn’t a story,” Myron said. “And I can’t afford to have you chasing after something for this long with no results.”
“We’ll get results,” I promised.
“Not with what happened today,” Myron said. “Orton and his lawyer were ready for you and they shut that whole avenue down. Where do you go from there?”
“We keep pushing,” I said. “The four deaths are connected. I know they are. You should have seen Orton’s face when I said dirty four. There is something there. We just need a little more time to pull it all together.”
“Look,” Myron said. “I know there’s smoke, and where there is smoke there’s fire. But right now, we can’t see through the smoke and we’re hitting dead ends. I let you two run with this but I need you back on your beats producing stories. I was never convinced this was a FairWarning story in the first place.”
“Of course it is,” I insisted. “That guy down there has something to do with these deaths. I know it. I feel it. And we are obligated to—”
“We are obligated to our readers and our mission — consumer-watchdog reporting,” Myron said. “You can always take your suspicions and what you’ve found so far to the police, and that would take care of any other obligation you think you have.”
“They won’t believe me,” I said. “They think I did it.”
“Not once your DNA comes back,” Myron said. “Talk to them then. Meantime, go back to your stations, refresh your story lists, and let’s meet individually in the morning to sequence.”
“Damn it,” I said. “What about if Emily goes back to her beat and I stay on Orton? Then you don’t have half the staff on this.”
“Way to throw me under the bus, asshole,” Emily said.
I spread my hands.
“It’s my story,” I said. “What’s the alternative? You stay on it and I go back to the beat? That’s not happening.”
“And neither is your scenario,” Myron said. “You’re both back on the beats. Story lists in the morning. I have to go make calls.”
Myron stood up and exited the conference room, leaving Emily and me staring at each other across the table.
“That was really uncool,” she said.
“I know,” I said. “I think we were getting close.”
“No, I’m talking about you throwing me under. I’m the one keeping the story going and you were the one who fucked it up with that lawyer.”
“Look, I admit I messed up with the lawyer and Orton, but you said yourself it wasn’t going to go anywhere. And it was probably your FTC contact who tipped him off. But this thing about you being the one keeping the story going, that’s bullshit. We both had moves in play and were pushing it forward.”
“Whatever. I guess it doesn’t matter now.”
She got up and left the room.
“Shit,” I said.
I contemplated things for a few moments and then pulled out my phone and composed a text to the contact I had labeled Deep Throat.