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They nodded, expressions professionally non-expressive.
Lacey extracted her phone, tapped it, and then thrust it at Jo. “A third text from a third anonymous number.”
Jo glanced down at the phone.
Report the blindfold—or you’re next.
CHAPTERTWENTY-SIX
Jo gestured for the check to Alma with one hand and gave Bernard’s phone to Lopez with the other. “Christine?”
Lopez grabbed the phone, then pulled out her own. “On it.”
Bernard stared at Lopez. “Who’s your friend?”
“Christine Lopez, one of the best tech wizards in the Commonwealth of Massachusetts.” Jo jutted her chin across the table as she reached for her own phone. “Janet Marzillo, who oversees our crime scene investigation lab.”
Bernard’s hand shot out to Marzillo. “Lacey Bernard,Springfield Gazette.”
“Ms. Bernard.” Marzillo didn’t look up from what Lopez was doing.
Bernard refocused on Jo. “You weren’t straight with me. You told me there was a bag over the victims’ heads, not a blindfold.”
Alma appeared with three take-out containers and Jo began shoveling her chile relleno into one. “Assure me all of this is off the record unless I say otherwise.”
Bernard didn’t blink. “All of this is off the record unless you say otherwise.”
“I didn’t know you, not even by reputation. I had to see if I could trust you.” She looked up, dead into Bernard’s eyes. “Just likeyouweren’t sure you wanted to give up your advantage of texting with an inside source.”
Bernard’s face reddened. “So you lied to me?”
Jo threw up a hand. “Not a full-out lie. Nothing that would put egg on your face. Facts don’t always come out one hundred percent accurately early in an investigation, and the difference between a bag over the head and a blindfold wouldn’t have been significant. But if it had turned up in the press coverage, I’d have known the source.”
Bernard’s face shifted to a grudging respect. “Nice to know I passed the test.”
“You’re not out of the woods yet,” Jo said. “What I’m about to say will put a big strain on your responsibilities as a journalist, since you seem to be officially caught in a conflict-of-interest situation.”
“It’s another burner,” Lopez interjected. “Quelle surprise.”
“Did you find the source?” Jo asked.
“Another Walmart, this one in Connecticut. We’re crossing state lines—now it’s a party.”
Bernard’s eyes scanned the table. “Why would the killer want that information out in the public?”
Jo watched her carefully. “They have a message they want to send. I think the better question is why do they wantyouto be the one to send it?”
Bernard blinked at her. “I have no idea.”
Alma appeared with Arnett’s burrito and the check. “Well we need to figure it out, fast. Do you have any connection to either of the murdered women, or to the DA’s office or judiciary?”
“Nothing different from any other journalist. I’ve interviewed people in the DA’s office, but never Sandra Ashville. And never Winnie Sakurai. Could it be as simple as me being relatively new to the paper?”
“That’s possible,” Marzillo said. “They may want someone hungry to prove themselves.”
“Or naive enough to do something stupid,” Lopez said, sending a glance at Bernard up over the phone.
Bernard caught the look, and narrowed her eyes. “If they have some statement they want to make, why not send a manifesto or some such to the paper?”
