At six o’clock, all those big time boys would be getting out of their showers, reaching for a drink from their mini-bars, and watching the news, especially the sports. And, he’d be there for them to see. Who knew where that could lead.
“You know where to reach me,” he told her.
She managed to type two pieces of copy before she had to reach for the phone.
“Who is this?” The voice was low and urgent.
“Who is this?” she demanded.
“Brian Rafferty.”
“Hey, Brian,” she brightened. “It’s Nancy Patterson. How’s it going? Still working hard?”
“Shut up and listen,” he ordered.
“What?”
“Can you get to Brown?” His voice was muffled as though he was cupping the mouthpiece, hiding the movement of his lips from whomever might be watching.
“Why?”
“Listen, I shouldn’t be telling you this. This isn’t public yet, but I think Brown needs to know.”
“Okay.” She waited.
“You’ve got to get to Brown and tell him something and if you ever say where you got it, I swear to God I’ll say you’re lying. You got that?”
“Okay, okay,” she agreed. She’d worry about that after she heard what he had.
“It was one of yours,” he said. “That body I picked up was one of yours.”
She felt the hair rise on her arms.
“What do you mean?”
“It was Hanson. Debbie Hanson.”
“Oh my God,” she gasped. Tommy Rodriguez, back in his cubicle, looked up from his typing.
“Listen, damn it,” Rafferty demanded. “Nobody knows, not yet. Not anybody who is saying anything. I had to tell the cops, but it’s not official. I can’t even tell my own people yet. Do you hear me?”
“She’s dead?”
“Yeah. They don’t know what happened. Look, I’m sorry. I met her a few times. Nice kid. I thought you guys should know before anyone else got it. I gotta go.” He hung up.
“I can’t believe this,” she muttered, still holding the receiver.
She took a deep breath and then turned to the two-way.
“Get in here. Get in here now,” she yelled. “Cappy, Adkins, I need you now.”
“What the hell is wrong?” demanded Tommy Rodriguez, standing over her again.
What did she do? Tell him first or get to Brown?
“Sit down, now,” she ordered as she checked the middle Rolodex for Brown’s home number. He answered on the first ring.
“Jim, this is Nancy. I’ve got to talk to you.”
“Go,” was his calm reply.
“It was Debbie. That body Rafferty brought down, it was Debbie and …” She stopped abruptly. She could not hear him breathing. Tommy had jumped to his feet.
“Jim?”
“I’m listening,” he said quietly. “Go ahead.”
“Rafferty called. He recognized her. No question about it.” Who cared if she told everyone it was Rafferty? Who cared now?
“Do you have confirmation, DPS, hospital, anybody?”
“No, we’re not supposed to know. Nothing is confirmed.”
“Don’t call anybody. Don’t use the two-way until I get there. You understand?”
“Yes, I understand.”
She took another deep breath. She knew what she had to do. She had to put a newscast together, a new one. She had less than two hours. She looked up at Tommy Rodriguez.
“You have those intros?” she asked.
“Are you kidding me?” His face was ashen.
“Do them. We might not use them. I want them done, in case.”
“What are we going to do about Debbie?” he cried.
They stared at each other.
“What the hell were you yelling about?” Cappy called out as he marched into the newsroom, Charles Adkins close behind him. “We were practically in the garage.”
“It was Debbie,” Tommy blurted out. “That person they found was Debbie. The body up there.”
Adkins’s knees seemed to buckle. He grabbed for the desk. “Jesus Christ. What are you talking about? What happened?”
“Brown’s on his way in,” Nancy said, her eyes going from one face to another. “We have to sit on it until he gets here. Nobody is supposed to know.”
“No way,” Adkins stated. “We should get it on the air right now. Do a break-in. It’s our story.”
“What about her family?” Cappy asked, looking from face to face. “Does anybody know her family?”
Where was her family, Nancy wondered. Who had the phone numbers? Did they have to get someone in from the front office to handle this?
“What about Carter?” Tommy asked. “Are you going to call him?”
“Scott!” she shouted to the newsroom. “Scott, are you in here?”
“Scott Reynolds,” she called over the PA system, “Scott Reynolds to the newsroom.”
“What do you have?” she asked Cappy. “We have to get something together.”
“We have those interviews with those people who saw the body. A couple of shots of people walking up the trail. You know,” he said without meeting her eyes.
“Steve will have the shots from the copter,” Charles Adkins added.
“Where are they?” Tommy vied for his own position in front of her.
“There,” she said, and they all looked up at the noise of the helicopter making its rooftop landing.
“What do you need?” Scott Reynolds walked to the desk.
“That search-and-rescue was Debbie Hanson,” she told him. “We don’t know how or why. We don’t know anything, but it was her.”
“No. How is she? What happened?”
“She’s dead,” she said bluntly. “And we don’t know what happened. Brown is on his way. We have to get ready for the six. What do you think we should do about Carter?”
Let him decide. He was the weekend anchor. It was up to him to decide if the newscast should be turned over to Carter, at least until Brown arrived.
“I can’t believe this,” Scott Reynolds was shaking his head. “Dead? She’s dead?”
“What about Carter?” she demanded. She didn’t have time for this.
“I guess I can call him,” he said. “What will I tell him about Debbie?”
She shrugged. Tommy Rodriquez and Charles Adkins also waited for her instructions. Cappy stood next to them, his camera resting on the desk.
“This is …” Brown’s voice rattled through the call letters.
“Go ahead.”
“Who’s there with you right now?”
“Rodriguez, Adkins.” Both of their voices were light, unconcerned, for the benefit of anyone else listening.
“We don’t you get Tommy on some sort of look-back piece, not too long. We’ll save that for later.” It almost sounded as if he was smiling
Tommy
