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“Help yourself to the coffee out there if you want,” he told her. “Although after you start reading this stuff, you may need something a lot stronger.” He walked away, muttering to himself.
Dana wiped her palms on the fabric of her slacks, her hands suddenly damp with perspiration. Setting a note pad, a pen, and her pocket PC next to her, she took a deep breath and loaded the first roll of film onto the machine. With the first turn of the handle, she crossed into territory from which there was no turning back.
She moved through the film one frame at a time, each story branding itself into her brain. By the time she’d been at it for two hours, her eyes burned, her shoulders ached, and she had to force herself to fight back the nausea.
She finished sooner than she expected. The paper published weekly and they never ran more than two stories about each incident, as if by downplaying it, they could pretend it didn’t happen. The stories were light on the details of the bodies, but even the flimsy descriptions were enough to rip her heart open.
Dana had read stories and reports of horrific crimes as she gathered research for other books. Been revolted by the inhumanity of what people could do to each other. But this. This created a special hell all its own. Even the barest of details of the mutilated young bodies, the scant particulars of the rapes were enough to give anyone nightmares.
Tears burned in Dana’s eyes and her heart pinched, hard. What kind of monster could do something so hideous to innocent, unsuspecting children? To her and Kylie?
Oh, God. Kylie. Dana was supposed to have protected her, to make sure nothing ever happened to her. She’d certainly done a lousy job. Pieces of that night slammed into her like a fist, knocking the breath from her body. Kylie’s screams echoed in her head, over and over, a reminder of her failure to save her baby sister.
Her stomach heaved, and she shoved her chair back from the table. Racing for the restroom, she barely had time to lock the door to the stall before the miniscule contents of her stomach roared out of her. She retched until there was nothing left, until dry heaves shook her and left her gasping for air.
When she heard the outer door to the restroom open, she flushed the toilet and leaned against the wall.
“Miss Moretti?”
She recognized Marion Jordan’s icy voice.
“I’m here.” She hoped her voice sounded stronger to Marion than it did to her.
“Are you all right? Mr. Garrett said he saw you hurry past his office and thought you might be ill.”
And wouldn’t you just love that.
“I’m fine. Thank you.” She opened the door of the stall. “I think I ate something that disagreed with me.”
The woman’s face was rigid with disdain, as if throwing up was no less than Dana deserved.
“Well, if you’re sure you’re all right…”
“I’m fine. Thank you.” Dana splashed cold water on her face, rinsed out her mouth, and blotted her skin with a paper towel. “Tell Mr. Garrett I appreciate everyone’s concern.”
“All right then.” Marion turned to leave, then stopped. “Shall I tell him you’re finished?”
“Yes. I’m getting ready to put everything back.” Dana knew she had to get out of here for a while. Other cases she’d written about had been approached dispassionately. The details, no matter how gory, had not disturbed her on a visceral level. But this was different. This was personal. This had happened to her.
Back in the dusty room, she stored away the cartridges she’d been using, shoved her belongings into her briefcase, and picked up the stack of articles she’d sent to the printer. She’d pay for them on the way out.
As she passed John Garrett’s office, she noticed the door was closed and heard the low hum of male voices. She wondered idly who he was meeting with that required a closed door and if it had something to do with her.
Paranoid much?
She swallowed a sigh as she went to pay for printing.
****
“She wants to do what?” Cole tilted his Stetson back on his head and stared at John Garrett.
“You heard me.”
Cole leaned back in his chair across from Garrett in the editor’s office and stared at him. “Tell me again.”
“She plans to dig into the old pedophile killer cases.” Garrett dropped into his chair behind the desk. “I left her going through files in the storage room, so let’s keep this conversation between ourselves.”
Cole frowned. “You know how long it took the town to get over everything that happened. There are people who still haven’t recovered.”
