Rarely did true leads pop up in my inbox. Most of them came on the street or from reliable sources. Many times they came from people who preferred to remain anonymous. It wasn’t until the really damning evidence was discovered that names and sources were needed. Even then, thanks to the First Amendment, most sources could remain undisclosed.
Today I’d spent hours with the border patrol. It was a stimulating way to spend a day, watching cars pass from the United States to Canada and vice versa for hours on end. The US Border Patrol wasn’t keen on allowing reporters or investigative journalists open access, but thankfully, I had a friend who had a friend, which was the way most of this worked. Unfortunately, today it hadn’t done me much good.
As I finished reading the second page of e-mails, my cell phone rang, its melody alerting me to my caller.
“Hello, Bernard.”
“Stella, where are you?”
“About thirty feet away,” I replied with a tired laugh.
“In my office.”
The phone went silent.
I lifted my brow and stared at the screen. Dylan, the man I’d left early this morning in his warm bed, was right; Barney, as Dylan called him, was a pompous ass. The civilized world used salutations: hello and good-bye. Shrugging away my annoyance, I pulled myself to my feet and walked to my boss’s office. Before I reached his door, he stood, walked toward me, and motioned to the chairs facing his desk. As I sat, he closed the door.
“I didn’t realize you were back,” he said, as he sat behind his desk. “How are you?”
I eyed him suspiciously. In the nearly a year I’d worked for him, I’d replied to every one of his requests for discussion. I’d dragged myself to this office, to coffee shops, bars, restaurants, and a million other places at all hours of the day and night. Never once had he stood as I approached. Never once had he greeted me with more than a shrug before beginning his rant. This new, unfamiliar adherence to etiquette frightened me more than his normal pompous behavior.
“What did you learn?”
I shook my head. “Nothing. I spent half the day at the border. Around eleven I followed up on some leads at the shipyard. I talked to some people, but honestly, nothing stuck out.”
His eyes fell to his desk. Despite nearing retirement, Bernard was still a handsome man—tall, tan, fit. The only suggestions of his age were his salt-and-pepper hair and the fine lines around his eyes. Currently his hair was slicked back, his face was made up for the cameras, and he was dressed in a nice suit. Though the news wouldn’t be starting for another hour or so, judging by his attire, he’d been filming one of his stories. That meant he would be needed back on the set to introduce the story during the five and six o’clock news. As I waited for him to look back up, it hit me. I’d never known him to look away. It was one of his things, one of his one-upmanship tendencies.
Is he going to move me off this story, or fire me?
I sat forward on the edge of the seat, my nerves electrified, waking my body with a surge of adrenaline. “I’ll keep looking. You don’t need to worry. If there’s as big of a drug operation out there as they say, someone’s going to talk. I’ve got feelers all over. Don’t take me off this. I’ll get the story.”
His dark eyes peered upward, but I couldn’t read his expression.
“No one’s moving you off the story. This isn’t about the drugs.”
“But you just asked—”
“I don’t do touchy-feely shit, but it’s no secret how much we all cared about Mindy . . .”
My stomach sank. “Oh, God, h-have they, have they found her?”
“The medical examiner called for you, over an hour ago. She said she tried your cell. I tried your cell—”
“The damn battery died. I plugged it in at my desk as soon as I got here.”
“She’s not sure if it’s Mindy. She only said it’s a female meeting Mindy’s description.”
“Where did they find her?” I asked, afraid of the answer. “Was this body found in the river too?”
Bernard shook his head. “No. This one was found in an abandoned building in Highland Heights.”
“Highland Heights?” I sucked my lower lip between my teeth and fought the bubbling nausea. “Mindy wouldn’t go to Highland Heights.” It was one of the worst parts of Detroit, riddled with gangs, crime, drugs, and poverty.
“I know,” he said. “It doesn’t make sense.” He leaned forward. “Listen, I’m due on the set in a few. If you wait, Foster can go with you. You shouldn’t go to the morgue alone. I know how hard it was last time.”
“No, thanks, Bernard. I can handle it. I need to do it for Mindy and for Mr. and Mrs. Rosemont. I promised them I would.”
“Are you sure you can drive? It’s almost rush hour and . . .”
I lifted my hand. “Please, just let me go. I’ve already wasted time. The sooner I go, the sooner we’ll know.”