A Good Kind of Trouble (A Trouble in Twin Rivers Novel Book 1) (30 page)

Ben was careful not to disclose the new information he had discovered—that Stanton was having an affair with the city attorney, who was the probable source of the inside information. He didn't have any proof that Teri Schulman had given Stanton nonpublic city plans, and he really didn't want to have to explain how he came to be crawling around his boss' secret love nest. If the partners investigated Stanton's conduct, they'd pull his email traffic and see whether there was any link to the city attorney.
 

Lowe nodded thoughtfully throughout the tale, pausing now and again to smack a golf ball into oblivion.
 

"I wasn't sure what to do with this information," Ben said. "I thought you needed to know."
 

Lowe frowned, again creasing his face. It was certainly more flexible than it looked.
 

"Did you go to anyone else with this?"

"No, of course not," Ben said. Even though Bear wasn't his personal client, the firm represented him. All employees of the firm were bound by attorney-client confidentiality. It was a sacrosanct rule.
 

"Good, that's good," Lowe said with a curt nod.
 

He lined up another drive and sent it two hundred yards into the distance.
 

"Gillespie, you did the right thing, bringing this to me," he said. "We need to talk about your future."

Chapter Twenty-Four

Lindsey reread the last two paragraphs on her computer screen, deleted a couple words, leaned back in her chair and hit the "send" command. She rubbed at the tension in her neck. The day had flown by, a blur of phone calls and double-checking her work.
 

Dani came around the grey half-wall and leaned against Lindsey's desk, careful not to disturb the precarious piles of documents and notepads.
 

"It's so exciting," she said. "How did the afternoon meeting go?"
 

The afternoon news meeting was where the editors decided where stories would be placed in the newspaper. Lindsey's story was running front page, above the fold—the best placement. And it would be in the Sunday paper, so it would get lots of attention and alert Twin Rivers residents about the vote ten days later. Sam had pitched the story and the other editors—from sports, business, and features—had weighed in. The editor-in-chief, Margaret Tisdale, asked good questions, which Lindsey was able to answer. Still, it didn't go exactly as she and Sam had expected.
 

"It went... okay," she said. "There was a little problem."
 

Dani tilted her head, her blue eyes wide. "What happened?"
 

"Ms. Petrie tried to stop my bond story," Lindsey said. She was still confused by the brief scene. The attorney who had been so helpful in court just days earlier was suddenly working against her. "She insisted that it wasn't ready for publication yet, that she needed more time to vet it."
 

Dani tilted her head. "What's to vet? You got the bond documents from the city, right? And you had plenty of comments from all sides. It's a great story."
 

Lindsey stood and stretched and saw Sam in his office, one hand holding a phone to his ear and the other waving frantically in her direction. She excused herself, walked quickly across the newsroom, and let herself into Sam's office.
 

"—What the fuck does that mean, you refuse to allow publication? Who made you news editor?" Sam was yelling, his face red, and he practically levitated with rage from behind his desk. "You don't tell me what 'responsible journalism' is! You're not a journalist! You're nothing but a—a lawyer!"
 

Oh, damn it
. Lindsey’s stomach plummeted. Ms. Petrie wouldn't sign off on the story.
 

Sam slammed the phone down with so much force it was a wonder the plastic device didn’t disintegrate on impact.
 

"What happened? Is there an error? Did I miss something?"

"No! The story's solid. That Petrie woman is insane. Come with me," he barked, stalking out of the office and toward the elevators.
 

Lindsey followed, jogging to keep up with him. "But there must be something. Why won't she sign off on it?"
 

"Because she's a bitter busybody with nothing else to do with her time and title," Sam said.
 

They crossed the middle of the newsroom and headed quickly toward the hall that would take them to the elevator and the executive floor. Reporters, interns, and assistant editors parted as Sam strode through the throngs of staff working toward the evening deadline. As Sam and Lindsey passed the central cluster of desks used by the news interns, Lara Petrie rounded the corner and stepped into the newsroom. Sam stopped so suddenly that Lindsey ran into his back.
 

Lara Petrie came up short at the threshold, as if she'd never been in the newsroom before. If she had, it probably wasn't after five o’clock, when things really picked up. Lara scanned the room, taking in the chaos of a newsroom with an approaching deadline. Phones rang, reporters typed furiously, editors harangued for copy. The attorney leaned back, her lips pulled tight. Then her eyes lit on Sam and her expression hardened.
 

"You hung up on me," she said, marching toward the middle of the newsroom where Sam and Lindsey stood. Her perky hair bobbed and swayed as she marched past news staff who quickly moved out of her way. "I wasn't done talking to you."
 

"Yeah, you were," Sam snarled, "because I was done listening."
 

Sam walked towards Lara, meeting her in front of copy editors' desks.
 

"I'm the newspaper's attorney and I say that story doesn't run," Lara said, raising her voice over the din of the newsroom.
 

"Listen, you don't get to make that call," Sam said. "You tell me what your problems are, I'll get them fixed. That's it. You don't dictate my page."
 

Lara poked Sam's barrel chest and leaned in and Lindsey heard gasps from reporters behind her.
 

"You're going to get this newspaper sued! I'm telling Mr. Bryant. He'll protect the paper. You can't ignore the publisher!"
 

Sam lowered his gaze again and his eyes narrowed as Lara's finger jabbed him in the chest again. He reached up and poked her back, his finger striking her just above the pearl button of her cashmere cardigan. Lara gasped.
 

"Don't you dare lay a hand on me!"

The few reporters still trying to work nearby popped up over their cubicles at the attorney’s shrill shriek, if not concerned at the escalating argument, then at least interested. Some drifted closer, wanting to see the drama unfold.
 

Sam didn't appear the least bit intimidated by Lara Petrie. He took a step forward and responded in his best newsroom-clearing bellow, the kind that blows the listener's hair back.
 

"You're not a journalist. Get the fuck out of my newsroom."
 

Lara Petrie took a half-step back and straightened her spine, looking around the newsroom at the curious crowd and then back to Sam.

"If this paper gets sued, you're going to take the blame. He's going to get you all fired!"
 

Lara stomped out of the newsroom in a huff and Sam looked at the crowd, still openly gawking at the upper-management brawl. In the back, someone started a slow clap and within seconds, it had reached a crescendo. Lindsey joined in, smiling at Sam's disgruntled expression. He waved his hand at the newsroom staff, still angry, but now also appearing a little embarrassed.
 

"You're all on deadline," he barked. "Get back to work."
 

He crooked a finger at Lindsey. "You. Come with me."
 

She followed him through the newsroom to the hallway that led to the elevators. Sam was silent as they rode up to the fourth floor. Lindsey’s mind ran through the possible reasons why Lara Petrie objected to her story. She couldn't imagine what additional reporting she could have done. So had she gotten something wrong?
 

Her stomach flipped at the thought. A reporter only had her reputation. And hers had been rocky lately. She'd worked so hard on this, but what if she'd missed something vital? Not only would she look like an idiot, so would Sam. He was the only thing standing between her and the unemployment line. She swallowed the lump in her throat and tried to take a deep breath.
 

"Stop worrying," Sam said as the doors to the elevator slid open. "Your story is fine. I checked it myself."
 

They stepped out onto the plush carpet and Lindsey jogged behind Sam past Lara Petrie's office to the end of the hall, where the publisher Franklin Bryant, III, had his suite of offices. Lindsey had seen him from a distance several times and had been introduced to him a couple times, but she'd never had a conversation with the man in the five years she'd worked at the newspaper. It had been his father's paper, and his grandfather's before that. A row of oil paintings memorialized all three of the Franklin Bryants and their genetic tendency toward weak chins.
 

The secretary stood and ushered Sam and Lindsey into a conference room off to the right, where Mr. Bryant was already standing with Margaret Tisdale.
 

"Sam, Lindsey," the publisher greeted them. Lindsey was surprised to learn she was on a first-name basis with him. "Thanks for coming up. I hear Ms. Petrie has raised concerns about the bond story."
 

Sam grunted. "We disagree on that."
 

Margaret Tisdale gave him a cool smile. The editor-in-chief looked like a mild-mannered woman in her early sixties, but she had a ferocious reputation that dated back to her days as a war correspondent in Vietnam.
 

"Yes, we heard about your disagreement," Margaret said.

Lindsey calculated how fast the gossip had traveled from the newsroom.
 

"Don't look so surprised, dear," Margaret said with a smile. "Before I became editor-in-chief, I was a damn good reporter. I have my sources."
 

She motioned for Sam and Lindsey to have a seat at the oval conference table. Mr. Bryant sat across from her and Margaret sat at the head of the table, to Lindsey's right.
 

"You've fact-checked the story?" Margaret asked Sam, who nodded.
 

"Of course. I called every source and checked their quotes and their math. Then I had my assistant editor review the documents we're citing."
 

Lindsey’s face flushed. He had mentioned checking her story out, but she didn't think he'd go to such lengths to make sure she'd done her job. She had no idea Sam had been so unsure of her reporting.
 

"Don't worry," Margaret said, patting Lindsey's hand. "We asked him to do that. The editorial board is going to reconsider its position on the arena proposal. I wanted to make sure they had no doubts about your story. If we didn't trust you, you wouldn't be in the newsroom."
 

Sam, whose color was returning to normal after the newsroom showdown, gave her a quick nod.
 

"I still don't know what Ms. Petrie's concerns are," Lindsey said.
 

"I'm afraid we don't either," Margaret said. "But, since she's given us no legal reason to delay publication, the story is running Sunday."

She gave Lindsey an appraising look. "The editorial board is meeting in thirty minutes. Can you be available to answer any questions they have?"
 

Lindsey nodded. The editorial board was responsible for writing the unsigned opinion pieces that endorsed policies and candidates on behalf of the newspaper. She'd never been invited to one of their meetings, which were kept separate from the news side of the business.
 

"This is an excellent piece of journalism, Ms. Fox," the publisher said. "The kind of work this newspaper needs more of. Thank you for a job very well done."

"Thank you," Lindsey said, trying to keep her voice normal.
 

"Given this, I just don't see how we can support this plan," Mr. Bryant said. "Maybe if they come up with a more cost-effective way to build the arena. But as it is now? No. That would be terrible for the community."
 

Lindsey nodded at the publisher. The newspaper's editorials could influence the public's view of issues. The board was making the right decision.
 

"You'll be at the city council meeting, leading our coverage next week, right?" Margaret asked.
 

"Of course, she will," Sam said. "She's not nearly done reporting this issue."

Did that mean Sam was going to approve the story about the property sales? Lindsey tried to keep her face neutral as all the blood ran out of her head. Could she back that up yet?
 

Mr. Bryant smiled. "Make sure to run it by legal first."

Margaret Tisdale's expression tightened.
 

"It will be run by me," she said. There was no questioning that tone. Lara Petrie had just made herself an enemy. "I will decide if legal needs to review it. And if the editorial board wants to take a stand on it, I'll be happy to make the presentation to the board myself. With Ms. Fox, of course."
 

The publisher nodded and stood quickly, excusing himself to prepare for the editorial board meeting. Margaret thanked Lindsey and shook her hand.
 

"I look forward to seeing your next story," she said, and then showed them out of the office.

"How is that story going? The one about the property sales and O'Bannion?" Sam asked as they walked down the empty hallway toward the elevators.
 

"Uh, it's going fine," Lindsey said. She understood a lot more about what was going on now, but how was she going to explain how she had learned it? She didn't want to admit to crawling around the love shack where the city attorney was meeting with Gregory Stanton. And she wasn't exactly sure yet what they were up to.