He clicked off the phone.
Janey would finally get those tulips. And, Jake hoped, she’d understand the card he’d tucked inside.
“Dead body in a hotel room, our stringer reports,” Alex said. He had flipped open his laptop, now talking to Jane and typing at the same time. “No ID? Damn. Hang on a second, Jane. I’ve gotta find someone to cover this thing.”
“I’ll go,” Jane said. Thanks, Jakey. How can I stay away from him? She stood, brushing down her jeans. “Got my trusty notebook, got my trusty tape recorder, cell phone all charged. Who knows what story may be unfolding. Right?”
“No mistake about that,” Alex said. He paused, slowly closed his laptop. “Jane?”
He looked at her so intently, she took a step backward. His eyes were softer than she’d remembered. And that smile was one she’d never seen.
“Yes?”
“Jane, listen. I want to tell you-you’ve really rocked this.” He swallowed, adjusted his glasses. Smiled again. “We’re a good team, you and I, don’t you think?”
Hot Alex. He only means “a good team” professionally, right? I won’t mention this to Amy.
Not a bad way to start the day. Seven in the morning, a front-page exclusive, and praise from her boss. Her dad would be proud, too, wouldn’t he? She couldn’t wait to tell him. Maybe her sister’s wedding would even be-fun. Now another big story was in the works. After that? That was the joy of reporting. And of life. You never knew.
Mom was right. One door closes, another door opens. Maybe I can even help Tuck find a new job. Kind of-karma. I know what it feels like to get the rug pulled out.
“Thanks, Alex,” Jane said. “Yeah. We are a good team. And I’m really-”
Her cell phone was ringing. Extra loud. She couldn’t ignore it, not with Alex watching. Wonder what Jake left at the front desk?
“Go ahead, pick up,” Alex said, gesturing. “Might be-”
“Jane Ryland,” she answered.
“Jane-ster. It’s Bart Finneran at Channel Eleven. Congratulations on that story. You’re really knocking ’em dead.”
“Ah,” Jane said. She stared at the floor.
“What?” Alex said.
“Here’s the scoop, kiddo. With the Vick arrest?” Finneran continued. “Lawyers tell me it’s a done deal now. Appeal over. Judgment vacated. Like it never happened.”
“Ah,” Jane said again. Kiddo. What a creep. But the judgment was-gone? The whole million-dollar mess?
“What?” Alex said again.
“I guess you’re speechless, huh?” Finneran said. “Don’t blame ya, kiddo. It’s all over, Jane.”
Jane remembered his studio-trained voice, his movie-star face, how he’d lied to her as he fired her. Her hand clutched her phone. Her voice was not working.
Alex watched her, waiting.
“Anyway, Jane”-Finneran was still talking-“we’re hoping you’d like your job back. Like none of this ever happened. You’ll be our superstar. Big-time. What do you say?”
My job back. Exactly what I’d thought I wanted.
But I was wrong.
Jane paused. Waited a beat. What to say? The perfect response would be wry and knowing. Brief and memorable. So cleverly dismissive, Finneran would go back to his overstuffed office and his overpaid cronies and say, That Ryland. I offered her the moon, and you know what she told me?
Jane could think of that perfect line. She would. Maybe while drinking a latte at her city room desk, maybe while hashing it over with Amy, maybe while sharing a clandestine glass of wine with Jake.
But she knew what the line would mean.
“What I say is-no thank you,” she said. Then, she couldn’t resist. “I’m afraid you’ve got the wrong girl.”
With one decisive click, she hung up.
“What?” Alex said. “You okay?”
“Yup.” And it was true. She was fine. “That was Channel Eleven. They want me back.”
She saw Alex’s eyes widen. “But you-we-”
“I know,” she said. Jane smiled as she picked up her tote bag. I have a story to cover. “They obviously made a mistake.”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Unending gratitude to:
Kristin Sevick, my brilliant, hilarious, and gracious editor. Thank you. The remarkable team at Forge Books: the incomparable Linda Quinton, indefatigable Alexis Saarela, and Seth Lerner for the cover of all covers (and I know I’ll never beat you in Scrabble). Copy editor Eliani Torres, who had me laughing all the way through the copyediting with her yellow highlights. (Sometimes, I repeat words. Thank goodness she noticed.) Talia Sherer, who shares my passion for libraries. Brian Heller, my champion. The inspirational Tom Doherty, who makes it all happen. What a terrifically smart and unfailingly supportive team. I am so thrilled to be part of it.
Lisa Gallagher, a wow of an agent, a true goddess, who changed my life.
Francesca Coltrera, the astonishingly skilled independent editor, who lets me believe all the good ideas are mine. Editor Chris Roerden, whose infinite care and skill and commitment made such a difference. You both are incredibly talented. I am lucky to know you both-and even luckier to be able to work with you.
The artistry and savvy of Madeira James, Charlie Anctil, Patrick O’Malley, and Nancy Berland. The expertise, guidance, and friendship of Dr. D. P. Lyle and Lee Lofland and Cathy Pickens. And the wizardry of Carol Fitzgerald.
The inspiration of David Morrell, Mary Jane Clark, Jim Huang, Marianne Mancusi, Suzanne Brockmann, Kaye Barley, Carla Neggers, and Robert B. Parker.
Sue Grafton. And Lisa Scottoline. And Lee Child. Words fail me. (I know, a first.)
My dear posse at Sisters in Crime. Thank you. And at Mystery Writers of America, the dolphin gang: Reed Farrel Coleman, Jessie Lourey, Larry Light, and Margery Flax.
My amazing blog sisters. At Jungle Red Writers: Julia Spencer-Fleming, Hallie Ephron, Rosemary Harris, Roberta Isleib/Lucy Burdette, Jan Brogan, Deborah Crombie, and Rhys Bowen. At Femmes Fatales: Charlaine Harris, Dana Cameron, Kris Neri, Mary Saums, Toni Kelner, Elaine Viets, and Donna Andrews. At Lipstick Chronicles: Nancy Martin and Harley Jane Kozak, who brought us all together.
Ken Schanzer and Jim Flug and Tom Sussman and Terry Straub, my political mentors from way back.
My dear friends Amy Isaac, Mary Schwager, and Katherine Hall Page; and my darling sister, Nancy Landman.
Dad-who loves every moment of this. (Mom-Missing you, and using cucumbers.)
And Jonathan, of course, who never complained about all the pizza.
(I’ve tweaked Boston geography a bit to protect the innocent. And I love readers who read the acknowledgments. Thanks to you all.)
www.hankphillippiryan.com
www.jungleredwriters.com
www.femmesfatales.typepad.com
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
A former U.S. Senate staffer and political campaign aide, Hank Phillippi Ryan is the investigative reporter for Boston’s NBC affiliate, and has won twenty-eight Emmys and ten Edward R. Murrow Awards for her reporting. A bestselling author of four mystery novels, Ryan has won the Agatha, Anthony, and Macavity awards. She is on the national board of directors of Mystery Writers of America and Sisters in Crime. Visit her on the Web at www.hankphillippiryan.com.
