Blindsided (11 page)

“The
Post!
You work for the
Post!
” Dennis West repeated, excitement ringing in his voice. “Do you know Ted Robinson? He's my idol. He's the first thing I read when I go online. Someone said he was the EIC and not reporting anymore. I was crushed. If I had one wish, it would be to be as good a reporter as he is.”

Maggie grinned from ear to ear as she held the phone out to Ted, who ran with it.

“Dennis, this is Ted Robinson, Maggie's my partner. Nice to meet you, kid. So, can we arrange a meeting? We're thinking of offering you a job here at the
Post.
”

The silence in the room rang in all their ears as they waited for the young reporter to respond.

“Oh, jeez! Holy smoke! I can't believe I'm talking to you. I wasn't lying; you are my idol. Oh my gosh! This isn't a joke, is it? Maybe I'm dreaming. Nope, I just pinched myself, and it hurt. Why me? Holy gee whiz!”

Ted grinned. The kid sounded just like he remembered himself years and years ago when he was in awe of a particular reporter who had gone out of his way to mentor him. Now it was his turn. “So, what do you say? Can we meet, Dennis? By the way, where are you? We've been trying to track you down for the past few days. Is anything wrong?”

“Right now I'm in Old Town in Alexandria, Virginia. I've . . . ah . . . I've been moving around as much as the clunker I drive will let me. It's a long story, and I suspect that's what you want to talk to me about, right?”

“Did I mention a company car comes with the job? When can we meet up with you?” Ted said smoothly. His eyes shot questions to Maggie, which meant, Can we make this happen? She nodded.

“Oh, gee whiz. Holy cow! I don't believe this. Hey, I'm all yours. I can be anywhere you want in an hour if my car will get me there.”

“Tell you what, Dennis. I'll call the
Post
and let the night guard know you're coming. Wait for us in the lobby. There is one thing, though.”

“Oh, jeez, I knew it. What? What's the catch? Oh, crap, I knew this was too good to be true.” It sounded to all three like the young reporter was going to cry.

“Hey, kid, hold on there. You don't even know what I was going to say. You know the rule, never assume, and you sure as hell never presume. What I was going to ask you is this. Where is your original story on the Ciprani twins? The real story before your paper watered it down?”

“Boy, you must think I'm dumb, Mr. Robinson. I did what you would have done. Ask yourself where my original is?”

Ted reared back and looked at his two partners, then he grinned. “You kept a copy on someone else's computer, right?”

“You got it. When the paper came out, watered-down, those two judges made my boss ask for my laptop. I had no choice but to turn it in. I had like five minutes to send the files to a friend of mine. I paid him for his computer. It's in the trunk of my car. No one knows that but you now. That's why I've been, you know, moving around. The truth is, I've been afraid. So, do you still want to meet with me and give me a job?”

“You know it, kid. We'll see you in an hour. Park right in front of the building. I'll put my tag on your car when I get there.”

“Dennis, this is Maggie. Listen, tell me something. Did you get the goods on those two?”

“I thought I did. I guess I did because that's when all my problems started. My boss got fired after that sham article was printed, and there was nothing in it. You don't do anything in Baywater unless those two judges okay it.”

“Kid, do you know how to spot a tail?” Ted asked.

Dennis snorted. “I do and I did. But I didn't have my friend's computer then. Someone searched my car. I know this because I wasn't born under a mushroom, you know. I set a trap. There was nothing for whoever searched it to find. That's another reason why I headed up here to Virginia. I have some college buddies here who are letting me bunk with them.”

“Okay, we're going to hang up now, Dennis. We'll meet you in an hour. Be careful, okay?”

“Oh, man, you know it. See ya.”

The trio looked at one another. “What do you think, Ted?” Maggie asked.

“I think we hit the mother lode, Maggie. I think that kid has just what he says he has, and he's smart. You need to call Annie since I made some pretty rash promises. See if we have her approval. It is her paper, and she's the boss.”

Maggie picked up a sugared bun that came with the Chinese dinner and stuffed it in her mouth as she hit the number three on her speed dial. She talked around the bun and waited. Annie's response was what she thought it would be. “Whatever it takes, dear.”

“We're good to go, guys,” Maggie said, reaching for a second bun.

Ted's clenched fist shot in the air. Then he clapped a grinning Espinosa on the back.

Maggie burst out in joyous laughter. Her adrenaline was at an all-time high. Damn, it felt good to be back!

M
aggie, Ted, and Espinosa climbed out of the cab smack in front of the
Post
building. The three of them looked at the junky car, more rust than metal, in front of the cab and grinned at one another. They'd all had cars like what they were looking at when they had started their careers. “For one thing, he doesn't have to worry about anyone stealing that hunk of junk.” Ted laughed as he pushed his press card under the windshield wiper on the driver's side of the car.

Maggie was alert as she looked right and left to see if there was anything out of the ordinary. Everything looked normal to her for this hour of the evening. It didn't look like Dennis West had anyone following him. She strained to see into the building lobby and waved for Dennis West to join them. The door opened, and a figure that resembled a soccer ball rushed out to the curb. He was short and squat and dressed in jeans with holes in the knees and a T-shirt that said
RAT'S ASS
on the front. A battered baseball cap was squashed down on a head of unruly curls the color of cinnamon. Chipmunk-rosy cheeks, denim blue eyes, and pearly white teeth completed the picture of one Dennis West.

Introductions were made.

“You guys weren't joking, were you?” Dennis asked, his tone worried as he removed his cap, smoothed his curls, then mashed the cap back on his head.

“Do we look like we're here for shits and giggles, kid? Move your ass and get that computer out of the car. Do you care if that car gets towed?” Ted asked.

“Not one little bit if you say a car comes with this job.”

Ted ripped his press card off the windshield and stuck it in his pocket. He watched as Dennis heaved and heaved until he finally pried the trunk of the clunker open.

“Damn!” the trio said in unison. “How old is that thing?”

“Doesn't matter. It works, and it saved my ass. But to answer your question, it was one of the first on the market. I could probably sell it even now for maybe fifty bucks.”

Espinosa tried to slam the trunk shut, but it wouldn't close. He shrugged.

“You have to tie it down if you want it to close,” Dennis said as he struggled with the heavy, ungainly computer. Ted rushed ahead to open the door to the
Post
building, Maggie trailing behind. Espinosa finally gave up after he gave the trunk another hard slam only to have it fly up and hit the back windshield.

In the
Post
newsroom, the trio did their best to try to hide their smiles as Dennis West looked around at the few straggling veteran reporters who hung out far into the night, his expression one of awesome delight. He walked around, touching a chair, peering at a computer, trying out a chair here or there until he finally asked where he would be sitting.

“Right over there between me and Maggie,” Ted said, pointing to a bright red swivel chair. “New kid always gets the red chair so we can keep track of him. You gonna set that thing on the desk before you get a hernia?”

“Oh, yeah. Jeez, this is just the way I saw it in my dreams. It feels . . . it feels . . .
awesome.
Like, you know, I belong here all of a sudden. I don't know what to say. How can I thank you? What kind of benefit package goes with the job? Not that I care, but the book says you always need to ask.”

“The whole ball of wax, kid. Stop in at Human Resources tomorrow. They'll explain everything. Now, how about plugging that thing in and booting up. In case you haven't noticed, we're kind of anxious to see what you got.”

Dennis West fumbled around, muttering to himself as he tried out the red chair and proclaimed it a perfect fit. He swiveled around a few times like a little kid doing a whirly-twirly, and laughed out loud. “I'm really here! I can't believe it! I swear I won't let you down. What kind of car?”

“You let us down, and I'll kick your ass all the way to the Canadian border. It's a black 2011 Taurus. That work for you, kid?” Ted said through clenched teeth.

“Well, gee whiz, yeah. Why wouldn't it?” Dennis asked, as he tapped the keys on the ancient keyboard. “Who pays the insurance? How much . . . what's my salary? I think you're supposed to tell me that.”

“Who the hell do you think pays it? The paper pays it. HR will explain everything to you in the morning. Probably ten times what you made at that jerkwater paper you were working at. Come on, what's our problem here?” Ted demanded, losing patience with the young reporter.

“I told you it was slow. I guess that makes sense. What about gas?”

“I'm going to kill you!” Ted roared. “You get a gas card. You just look dumb. That's your stock-in-trade, right?”

Dennis shrugged, turned, and smiled a smile so pure and joyful, the others could only grin. They had all been there, done that, lived through it.

“Here we go. It's all on one big file, just scroll down and read. I labeled every interview, time, date, and if I had to go back a second time for any reason, I logged that, too. I scanned the signed affidavits. Everything is there. I have all the originals in a safe place.”

“Okay, Dennis, here's your first job. The kitchen is down the hall, second door on the left. Go there and make us some coffee and bring it back here. We all drink it black. If there are any cookies, bring them, too.
Go!
” Maggie ordered.

Dennis turned tail and made his way to the kitchen. He felt like dancing even though he had two left feet. He wanted to sing, but even his mother and his college roommates told him he sounded like a sick cat in distress. He
needed
to do
something,
so he jumped up and down, clapped his hands like a little kid, whistled off-key, then did a little jig until he got dizzy.

When he came back down to earth, he measured out coffee and poured water into the pot. He looked around. He was really here, and he was making coffee for the guys. At some point, he'd be one of them. One of the guys. Not yet, though, and he understood he would be sitting in the red chair for a while unless he hit a really big story. A Pulitzer. Every reporter's dream. He looked around at the cups on the shelf with the different reporters' names on them. He could hardly wait to see his own cup up there, waiting for him. How in the hell had he gotten so damn lucky?

Dennis's touch was short of reverent when he reached up for the cups that said Maggie, Ted, and Espinosa. They were large mugs, with handles that looked like bent pencils. He wanted one so bad he felt like he could taste it. He also knew he'd need to earn it, and when he did, one of the other reporters would gift him with one. That was the way it worked. Or so he'd been told.

Dennis reached for a colorful plastic tray leaning up against the backsplash next to a sign that said
YOU MAKE A MESS, YOU CLEAN THE MESS.
He looked around to make sure he wasn't leaving a mess. No mistakes this early in the game. He poured the coffee, then rinsed the pot and dumped the grounds in the trash under the sink. His hands shaking, he carried the tray down to the newsroom, where he stopped dead in his tracks when his hosts stared at him like they were either going to kill him or love him to death. More likely the former as opposed to the latter. The cups rattled on the tray. Espinosa rushed to take the tray from his shaking hands.

“What? Oh, my God, what? You're firing me already? What? I didn't leave a mess in the kitchen. The sign said to not leave a mess. I did not leave a mess. What?”

Ted took the lead and advanced a few steps, his hand outstretched. Maggie did the same, then Espinosa came forward. “Kid, what we read, even though it was a sketchy first read, is some of the best reporting I've seen in a long time. I don't even think I could have done it any better. How'd you get all those people to talk to you?” Ted demanded.

“Oh, God, oh, God! You mean you aren't firing me? You scared the wits out of me. You like what I wrote?” The others watched as the young reporter kept pinching his arms and wincing at the pain he was inflicting on himself.

“We do!” Maggie said, rushing to hug him. “Listen, Dennis, this is your story. We're just here to help you get it published in its entirety. I don't think I'm off the mark when I say you might, you just might, get a Pulitzer for this. If you do it right. Ted and Espinosa agree.”

Dennis West felt his eyes roll back in his head as he slipped to the floor.

It took all three of them to get the roly-poly reporter up onto the red chair.

“This kid is something else,” Ted said, sounding like a proud father.

“He's done all our work for us,” Maggie said. “He's got it all. Wonder how long it took him.”

“Six months,” Dennis said breathlessly as he came around to the land of the living.

“Here, drink this,” Espinosa said, handing him his cup of coffee. Dennis gulped at it gratefully.

“How did you get all of this, and how'd you get it without tipping your hand to those two judges?” Maggie asked, pointing to the text on the screen.

Dennis West laughed. “Look at me! Some elderly lady told me I looked like her grandson. Old people love to talk, and she couldn't wait to unload on me because I listened. People, as a rule, don't listen to old people. That's a really terrible mistake because old people are very wise. I wasn't a threat to anyone. Someone else said I looked honest. Just so you know, I am honest. I don't cheat. And I would never pad an expense account. I'm ordinary. But the bottom line was all the people I talked to had something to say and wanted to say it. I could read their fear. While all the affidavits are real, the article has bogus names. I had to do that. Reprisals are a terrible thing, you know. What did you think of Miz Charlotte Rushton's affidavit?”

“What's not to like? But the fact that she's in a nursing home and is up there in years may not work to our advantage.”

Dennis giggled. “Miz Charlotte put herself in that nursing home. She wanted to get as far away from those evil women as she could get. That's what she called them—evil women. She's sharp as a tack and she gave her doctor permission to talk to me about her and the conditions she does
not
have. She also moved out of state and is here in Virginia. She had enough good sense to do that, so that should tell you she has all her marbles. She worked for the Cipranis for thirty years. She knows all their secrets, and she couldn't wait to finally talk about them. And Jon Eberly, the brother Peter's best friend. I can't be sure about this, but I think he knows where Peter is, and it isn't six feet under either, the way those judges say, even though he vehemently denied it. I don't care if those judges had Peter declared dead or not. I think he is very much alive. No matter what I did, no matter what I promised, I couldn't get any more out of Eberly. He still lives in Baywater and has a business there, so he isn't going to rock any boats. Call it gut instinct, reporter's instinct, but I think he has been in touch with the brother. The guy was nice to me, real nice.”

“And all the victims' families? How'd you convince them to talk to you?”

“Told them the truth. I just said I wanted to expose those two judges, but I couldn't do it without help. Like I said, I changed everyone's name. Once I agreed to do that, they were more cooperative. It's all one big, hot, bonfire mess.”

“You did real good, Dennis. Real good. We're going to take you now to a condo the
Post
keeps for out-of-town guests. You'll be staying there until . . . well, until we tell you it's safe to move. It could be a while, and you don't have to worry about rent. I'll pick you up in the morning, get you situated here with HR, get your car and everything you're going to need. I don't want you going back to wherever it was you were staying. We'll cut you a check later on to buy anything you need for now. You okay with all this? That means you cut all ties to friends, associates, anyone associated with Baywater. You got that? If it's a problem, tell us now. You make even one phone call that we don't authorize, and you're outta here. You can call your parents and tell them we're sending you on an out-of-town assignment. That's it.”

“Well, yeah, Mr. Robinson, I'm okay with it all. I'd pretty much have to be a fool not to be okay with all of this.
This
is the stuff dreams are made of, at least for people like me. I don't know how to thank you.”

“I have a question, Dennis,” Espinosa said. “Where'd you get the guts to take on those two judges? Weren't you afraid they'd come after you? From what we've been hearing, everyone is afraid of them.”

Dennis shrugged. “Yes, and no. I heard about all the people who tried to go up against those two, and I heard the things that happened to them. All explained away, of course. It's all wrong, and no one cares. Or else everyone else is a coward. I might be many things, but a coward I am not. But if you need one thing, then it's this. A buddy of mine has a nephew who got sent to one of those camps. The boy is out now, and he's never going to be the same. The kid goes to therapy five days a week and . . . It's all in there. He's case number sixty-five. It bothers me to talk about it, so just read it, okay?”

“We skimmed through it all, but I'll read it thoroughly when I get back home. Ted is going to take you now to the condo.” Maggie moved to the side, and whispered to Ted, “I'm going to stay here, run off copies, and fax them to Myra and Charles. I'll take a cab back to my house. Do you want me to send the file to your iPhone?”

“Yeah, do that,” Ted said.

“What about tomorrow?” Espinosa asked.

Maggie chewed on her lower lip for a moment. “I think I'm going to go out to Pinewood first thing in the morning. I'll plan on leaving around six. When I get back, I will either have permission for the three of us to go to Baywater, or I won't. I'm also wondering if we should take ‘Jimmy Olsen' with us,” Maggie said, referring to the young reporter. “He might be a help. I need to think on that some more. I'll meet you here at the paper sometime tomorrow morning. You'll be busy showing the kid the ropes and getting him settled in.”