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“I’m not sure. Thanks.”
She sprang from her chair and grabbed her satchel. She was finished for the day. Her story for the evening newscast was completed and on the producer’s desk. No one would miss her if she left a little early.
Over the last several days, she’d done a passable job of convincing the viewing public—which she hoped included David Merritt—that she was carrying on business as usual following the loss of her townhouse.
The jury was still out on the cause of the explosion that had destroyed her house, but to all appearances, she hadn’t made any connection between it and her forays into the private lives of the President and First Lady.
As she rushed through the newsroom, she considered snagging a cameraman and taking him along, just in case this tip proved to be valid. But she decided to exercise restraint. She would take a camcorder to Highpoint. If a story was brewing, she would at least have the unfolding events recorded on home video.
First, however, she had to devise a way to get into Highpoint without being shot.
* * *
“You didn’t recognize the voice?”
“Didn’t I just say that?” Barrie said irritably. “No, Gray, I did not recognize her voice.”
“Don’t get riled at him,” Daily said. “He just doesn’t want you to go off half-cocked, is all.”
It infuriated her that Daily took Gray’s side. “I’m not asking anybody to go off half-cocked with me. Stay here. I couldn’t care less. Myself, I’m following up this lead.”
“Could’ve been that crank,” Daily said. “That Charlene.”
“It wasn’t,” she insisted. “I don’t know who it was, but she didn’t have the characteristics of your average crank caller. She sounded cultured and educated. And scared. I believe what she said.”
Daily stayed on it. “You’ve got no verification that anything unusual is going on at Highpoint. This could be Justice Green all over again. You’ll wind up with egg on your face and your ass in a sling.”
“What about Justice Green?” Gray asked.
“Nothing,” Barrie snapped. She glared at Daily, then sliced the air with her hands and said, “This discussion is over. I’m going.”
She wouldn’t have returned to Daily’s house and informed them of her plans if she’d had the camcorder with her. Recently purchased to replace the one she’d lost in the explosion, it was still in its box in Daily’s guest room. With batteries now installed, she checked it out, placed it in her satchel, and turned to her worried compatriots. “Well, wish me luck.”
Daily was so distressed that he began to gasp for breath. He turned to Gray. “You’re the Marine. Any ideas?”
“Short of hog-tying her, absolutely nothing. But I’ll go with her, and she’ll probably get us both shot.” He said this as he stuffed a pistol into his waistband.
Just then Barrie’s pager went off.
“One of your sources?” Daily asked.
“They’re the only ones who have this number besides you.”
She didn’t recognize the telephone number on the digital readout, but she instantly identified the voice who answered what apparently was a pay phone. She could hear traffic noise in the background. The source wasted no time in imparting his message, then hung up immediately.
Thoughtfully, Barrie replaced the receiver and looked up at Gray. “Let’s go if you’re going.”
“Who was that?” Daily asked, following them to the door, dragging his squeaky trolley along. “Was it about Highpoint?”
“No. It was nothing,” Barrie replied, but her weak smile belied that. “We’ll call you as soon as we know something. Try and get some rest.”
“Try and keep yourself in one piece. I’d like to be able to visit you in prison.”
* * *
“Where in Louisiana?”
“What?”
