Everyone in the room was looking at Jane.
“I’m Tay Reidy, Jane. Please. Take a seat.” He stood, indicating the empty chair. His trademark silver hair slicked back from his aristocratic forehead, his suit impeccable. A braided rope bracelet circled one wrist. He smiled, waving a hand over the group. “We’re so pleased to have you on board. Right, Alex?”
Alex nodded.
“But we must ask you a favor,” Reidy continued. He pointed to the man beside him, giving him the floor. “And Ethan Geller here, our legal eagle, says it’s legally-how’d you put it, Ethan? Appropriate. Beyond reproach.”
Jane pulled out her chair as Reidy talked and sat down, frowning. Beyond reproach? Appropriate? What is? Every one of her nerve endings turned to high. Everything is fine was so not true. Under the table, her foot tapped.
“Whatever you decide, Jane,” Ethan said. “But you’re not in violation of any law. Either way.”
“It’s an incredible opportunity for us,” Alex said. “And of course, since you’re on our team now, we want to get our show on the road before anyone else calls you.”
“She doesn’t know, Alex. Look at her. She doesn’t know what we’re talking about.” The brunette swiveled her chair to face Jane, then leaned forward, hands on her bare knees. “There’s another Bridge Killer victim. That’s why I texted you, roomie.”
Jane’s heart dropped. Then raced. Roomie? This girl? Is Tuck? Her bewilderment could not be more complete. Another bridge victim? No, she didn’t know. How would she know? And why would they think she’d care?
“Alex?” Jane said. “Did Lassiter’s campaign-?”
“Tuck, why don’t you tell her,” Alex interrupted. “Tuck’s the one who’s breaking the story.”
“It’s Sellica Darden, Jane.” Tuck’s voice was even, almost compassionate. “Her body was found by the Moakley Bridge. The Bridge Killer’s new victim is Sellica Darden.”
13
“She was your source, correct?” Tay Reidy leaned his pin-striped elbows on the conference table, fingers laced, eyes riveted on Jane. “Sellica Darden was who you were protecting. The one who could prove the john was Arthur Vick. This changes everything, of course. You see what a major story this is.”
“You can tell the whole truth,” the lawyer said. “You wouldn’t reveal your source in court, understandable, but now you’re free to do so.”
“You’re the only one who can write it, Jane.” Alex was out of his chair. “You know the facts, you know the background, you know the inside story. Like Mr. Reidy says, you’re on solid legal ground. Sellica’s dead now. You’re fine. You’re free. Right, Ethan?”
Fine? Free? Sellica’s dead? The Bridge Killer? The room was buzzing around her, all these people talking at once, almost as if she weren’t here. How was she supposed to process this? Sellica was dead. And Jane’s life was irrevocably ruined.
“Oh, most assuredly.” The lawyer opened his book to a place marked by a yellow sticky and traced a finger down the page. “Your agreement to keep her name confidential has no power of law, so as a contract issue, it’s not even…”
Jane knew the lawyer was still talking, something about protections and dissolution and shield laws and termination of confidentiality, but her mind, struggling for equilibrium, was full of Sellica Darden. Sellica very much alive, in room 2306 of the Madisonian Hotel.
Odd place to meet, a sleek high-rise in the bustle of downtown Boston. Jane had protested at first, suggesting they find an out-of-the-way coffee shop, or take a walk in a suburban park. She could almost hear Sellica’s insistent voice, its hint of amusement.
“I have friends at the Mad,” she’d told Jane on the phone. “And I’m all about discreet, right?”
The next morning, a key card had been left at Channel 11’s front desk in an envelope marked JANE and PERSONAL in purple Magic Marker. An hour later, Jane, in sunglasses and a baseball cap, had used the key card to click open room 2306. Sellica, voluptuous even in silhouette, had been standing in the window, looking out at the Boston skyline.
Have I ever met a hooker before? The question had crossed Jane’s mind, surprising her. Hooker was probably inappropriate. What did Sellica call herself? Jane realized she hadn’t known what the woman looked like. The photos in the paper had been either mug shots or blurred, and in the snippets of TV video, Sellica was always more sunglasses than face.
The woman in the window had turned, offered a hand. Her narrow charcoal skirt, white shirt, sleek suede pumps, and horn-rimmed glasses looked almost prim, from the dress-for-success handbook. Her chestnut-frosted hair was pulled back, severe. Her lips pale pink. Chunky gold earrings and matching necklace. Jane looked around the room briefly, wondering if Sellica had sent her lawyer instead of showing up in person.
“No, it’s me,” the woman said. She lifted one perfectly plucked eyebrow. “Not what you expected ‘the other woman’ to look like?”
Jane had fumbled a greeting, trying to cover her embarrassment. Jumping to conclusions was hardly the way to build confidence. But that day had ended with promises.
Promises Jane knew she had to keep. Even now.
Even now that Sellica is dead. The Register’s conference room seemed to go cold. Jane crossed her arms in front of her, hugging herself against the chill. Sellica was dead. And now, so were Jane’s chances for redemption. She could never prove her story. She would always be Wrong-Guy Ryland. Arthur Vick wins again.
Arthur Vick. Could he have killed-? Jane played out the possibilities, fast forward.
“Jane? You with us here?” Tuck touched her lightly on the shoulder.
Jane blinked, back in the present. Ridiculous. Arthur Vick didn’t kill Sellica. The Bridge Killer did.
“Think it’s doable?” Tuck was saying.
Doable? Jane scanned their faces. Tuck, eyes shining. Tay Reidy. That lawyer. Alex, dressed up for some reason in a dark blazer and striped tie. Everyone seemed to be waiting for her to answer something.
“If you two get started now, we could have it for tomorrow’s edition. Here’s the plan.” Alex gestured with his chunky ballpoint at a list he’d scrawled on his yellow pad. “Jane writes the Sellica backgrounder, Tuck writes the Sellica murder story. Photos, bios, excerpts from the trial transcripts. Recap the other Bridge Killer victims in a sidebar. And we’ll have to get reax from the cops.”
He abruptly stopped his high-speed instructions. “Gotta wonder if the other victims were hookers. You know?”
“You got it, boss,” Tuck said. “Cake.”
“Are you with us, Jane? I’ll take you off the Lassiter thing, of course. Just for a day. Moira hasn’t called, right? Or Gable?” Alex clicked his pen, eager for her answer. “You’ve got police sources, too. Right? You know Jake Brogan. That works.”
“I-” Jane’s voice wasn’t working very well. Her brain was full, churning. Was Sellica a random victim of the Bridge Killer? Or had someone sought her out? And if so, who? And why? Would Arthur Vick kill Sellica? “I think-”
Every eye in the room focused on her.
“Perhaps Jane would prefer to write the story herself?” Tay Reidy interrupted the silence. “Jane, is that why you’re hesitating? It is, after all, your vindication. Proof you were telling the truth, all along.”
“Ethan, that reminds me.” Tuck turned her back to Jane. “What happens to that million-dollar judgment against Channel Eleven when it comes out that Jane was telling the truth?”