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“What are you going to do?” Barrie asked.
“I’ve got some ideas.”
Evidently he wasn’t going to reveal those ideas.
Daily said, “You’re welcome to make this house your base of operation.”
“Thanks, but I don’t want to put you in danger, too.”
Daily laughed. “What’ve I got to lose? Besides, this is a safe place. Nobody will be looking for you here.”
“So she said last night,” Gray said, nodding toward Barrie.
“She doesn’t let on that we’re friends,” Daily explained.
“Why?”
“That’s a private matter between Daily and me,” Barrie snapped.
Daily said, “But you can take my word for it, Gray. This is the safest place for you.”
“What about your job?” Gray asked Barrie.
“She was already in trouble at work,” Daily answered for her. “Feds went there asking questions about her.”
Gray frowned. “Not regular feds—Spence’s men, I’d bet. He would have covered all his bases. Barrie, how many people at the TV station know about the story?”
“I didn’t discuss it with anybody.”
“Friends?”
“No one except Daily.”
“Lovers?”
Detecting the mockery behind his question, she gave him a terse no.
“Good,” Gray said. “The fewer people who know about this, the better.”
Daily said, “After last night, I think she should lay low, at least until we know what’s going on with Mrs. Merritt.”
“Absolutely.” Gray turned to her. “Stay here with Daily and keep out of sight. Let me handle this. I promise, though, you’ll get first crack at the story.”
“You do? Why, thank you ever so much.” She shot each of them a withering look. “You two have been talking about me as though I’m not here. You even went so far as to make my plans for me. Well, thanks, but no thanks. Here’s how it’s going to be.”
* * *
“Sorry, miss, this area is off limits.”
“That was my house. I lived here. I’m Barrie Travis.”
As she’d known they would, the words worked like a magic wand. Within seconds, she was surrounded by reporters who’d been loitering about with their cameramen, waiting to get a statement from someone, anyone, official.
Interviews with neighbors and eyewitnesses had been exhaustive, but all had similar stories to tell. Every possible angle had been covered. There was nothing new to report. At this point, the authorities were reluctant to speculate on what had caused the explosion. The investigating ATF agents were particularly reticent. Nobody was talking.
Now, suddenly, the elusive Barrie Travis was. Microphones and video cameras were aimed at her. “As you can see, my home was totally destroyed. I was left with only this,” she said, spreading her arms. “But the greatest loss to me was my dog, Cronkite, who died in the blast.”
“Where have you been since the explosion?”
