Paulina Cole sat at her desk rifling through the transcription of an interview with a Republican senator she had just spoken to that afternoon. She didn't particularly like the man- primarily because she knew a great deal more about his predilection toward Guatemalan housemaids than did the voters-but he was a shoo-in for reelection and Ted Allen's instructions were to paint him in the most positive light. That
Ted had contributed close to six figures toward his reelection campaign was not to be mentioned. Paulina had already picked out six good sound bites, thankfully all taken within some sort of context, and was in the midst of outlining tomorrow's front-page story.
She was writing longhand when a sweaty, haggard James
Keach appeared in her doorway. Keach staggered in, dropped into a seat across from her desk, his breathing hard, eyes frightened. It was the first time James had taken a seat without her express permission. Usually he stood by the doorway taking instructions. He didn't even think twice about plopping down, and it unnerved Paulina.
"Jesus, James, what happened to you?" she said, allowing a hint of concern to creep into her voice.
James looked up, as though startled to realize he was sitting in Paulina's office. He looked around, then locked eyes with her and leaned forward. James looked like he'd just witnessed something unspeakable, and would give anything to take it all back.
"I was trailing Henry Parker," James said. "And…oh
God…"
"Spit it out."
James Keach's body began to convulse with sobs. She felt panic well up, but the flavor of excitement, as well. Wherever there was fear was also a great story.
"Mya Loverne," James said. "I was following Henry and…"
For the next five minutes, James told her what he'd seen that night. The man atop the building. Mya's body hitting the ground. Henry Parker screaming, crying. The ambulances, the broken girl being sped away to the hospital.
The killer on the rooftop, grinning like the devil himself.
When James was finished, Paulina sat in silence. She recalled her conversation with Mya at the diner; the small, frail girl looking like she was one tap away from shattering.
Mya Loverne. Was it possible…
Paulina cleared her throat, blew her nose into a handkerchief. She picked up the phone and dialed the Metro desk.
"Fred, Paulina Cole here. Call Ted Allen. Tell him Senator
Brisbane is being pushed back to page seven. We have a new page-one story tomorrow."
She hung up. Looked at James.
"Did they say Mya is going to make it?" she asked. James shook his head.
"I couldn't get into the hospital, and nobody would speak on her condition. But it looked pretty bad."
Paulina closed her eyes, dismissed James with a wave of her hand. When he left, she sat back, folded her hands behind her head. Then with a snap she sat forward, pushing the sympathy from her mind. Then she turned on her computer, and began to type.