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The perfect reply, dammit. Unselfish, eloquently expressed in her alto voice, enhanced by the sincerity in her remarkable aqua eyes. Shauna wanted to rip out her glossy black hair follicle by follicle.
“Some have been very vocal about the laxity on the part of those who were supposed to be protecting you against just such an attack. Can you comment on that?”
Without a blink, Elle said, “Certainly. If not for your reckless reporting, we wouldn’t have required protection.”
Shauna saw red. “It’s my job to report the news.”
“It’s your job to report it responsibly. You could have broken the story about a new lead without making our names public. Since you did, the arrangements to protect us were rushed out of necessity.”
Shauna’s face was burning with anger. She’d been trying to set a trap for Elle and had stepped into it herself. But no harm done. She could edit out that segment.
“Detectives Compton and Perkins have spearheaded the Fairground shooting investigation and so far have little to show for their efforts. Do you blame their ineptitude for the three deaths last night?”
“I blame only the person who pulled the trigger.”
“Let’s assume the assailant at the safe house was the Fairground shooter. It was awfully brazen of him.”
Elle seemed to be choosing her words carefully before she said, “Brazen but not brave.”
Finally,something. Shauna leaned forward, putting on her most earnest face. “Can you expand on that?”
“Brazenness requires only a warped ego. Whether inflated or trampled, that ego is controlling the individual’s actions.”
“You think it’s this warped ego that’s driving the unknown suspect?”
“Well, I’m not a psychiatrist, but what does bravery have to do with firing a semiautomatic handgun into a dense crowd of people who are defenseless? Nothing. That’s not bravery, that’s depravity.
“To kill a two-year-old doesn’t take courage.” Turning her head away from Shauna, she looked directly into the phone’s camera. “It’s the epitome of cowardice.”
Knowing she’d been upstaged, Shauna said tightly into the camera, “Well said, Ms. Portman. Point made. Thank you for speaking with me.” Then to Elle, “We’ll end it there. I’ll do an intro and closing remarks in the studio.” She stood, took her cell phone from Glenda—who was unsuccessfully trying to contain a smirk—and clicked off the camera.
“When will it air?” Elle asked.
“On the five o’clock news.”
“It’s after three now,” Glenda said.
“Which is why I need to rush off. It’ll be a quick editing job.”
She wished now she hadn’t already videoed a promo for the exclusive interview. The ads would be aired repeatedly during the station’s afternoon programming. She’d unwittingly painted herself into a corner. She had no choice other than to air the interview in which she’d been surpassed by an amateur.
Smiling stiffly, she said to Elle, “Will you walk me out? I’d like a private word with you.”
“Of course.”
Glenda said, “I’ll close up.”
Shauna and Elle fell into step as they walked toward the wide door, their footsteps echoing hollowly in the vast space. “You used me, didn’t you?” Shauna said. “To send a message to the shooter.”
“We used each other. You got the interview you’ve been after. I got to address the bastard who killed my son. I only hope he sees the interview.”
“And the implied challenge at its conclusion.” When they stepped outside, she stopped and turned to face Elle. “Why would you want to thumb your nose at him, practically daring him to make another attempt on your life?”
“Off the record?”
“Yes.”
“Can I trust that?”
