Extreme Exposure (28 page)

He’d had to grin at her thoroughness. She wrote like a kick-ass lawyer. But did she truly believe he or someone else on the audit committee was interfering with the health department’s ability to do its job?

The next sentence had jarred something in his mind.

I am also requesting any correspondence between you and any individual employed by or under contract with Northrup Mining, Inc., as well as any document of any kind that mentions Northrup Mining, Inc.

He’d seen the name Northrup before. But where?

He’d grabbed the folder with the state health department documents in it and searched through it until he found an open-records request dating back to January, the week after he’d met her. It was a request for any and all documents pertaining to Northrup Mining, Inc., dating back to the day the company opened operations in Adams County. In that instant, he’d known he’d found what he’d been looking for. Without meaning to, she’d given him the clue he’d needed.

It was a clue he was going to follow. He was meeting with the director of the state health department tomorrow. He’d take a look at Northrup’s file himself.

“Next time you want to get out of bed, young lady, you buzz the nurse first. Are you in pain?”

Kara shook her head. “No more pills or shots. They make it hard to think.”

“That’s the concussion, honey. Let me know when you change your mind.” Then the nurse walked out of the room and left them alone.

Kara felt his hand stroke her wet hair. She opened her eyes and forced herself to meet the gaze of the man who’d been at her bedside for the past four days, the man who’d comforted her son, the man who’d stood up for her against Galen. The man she was investigating. “I needed a shower. I needed to . . . be clean again.”

“I understand.” His eyes told her that he did, indeed, understand. “I just wish you’d waited until either I or your mother were with you.”

“You shouldn’t be here.” She had to say it. Someone had to say it.

“Why not, Kara?”

“Because I’m investigating you. Because it’s a conflict of
interests.” She felt the hot sting of tears in her eyes and turned her face away from him. “Because it’s not right for me to need you so damned much when all this stands between us.”

“Do you need me?”

She hated herself for being so weak, so pathetic. She choked out the answer. “Yes.”

His lips pressed warm against her forehead. “Then we’ll worry about the rest later.”

F
OR
K
ARA
, later came sooner than she had expected.

Tom arrived after Reece had gone back to the Capitol, a file folder in hand and a stack of papers tucked into his armpit. “You’re looking . . . better.”

“Really? Holly told me I look like something off the cover of a tabloid.” Kara couldn’t help but smile at her friend’s ill-chosen words. “OJ’s latest girlfriend, I believe she said.”

Tom cleared his throat, shifted awkwardly, and Kara realized how out of place he was outside a newsroom or a bar. “Yes, well, at least it’s not permanent.”

If her ribs hadn’t hurt like hell, she might have laughed out loud.

“I saved the papers, figured you’d want to see the ink you’ve been getting.” Tom tossed them onto her lap.

“INDY REPORTER ATTACKED” was the headline of Tessa’s story—all caps and sixty-point type. The other papers hadn’t played it up quite as much, though she’d still landed on the front page. “Reporter assaulted.” “Reporter stable.” “Journalist on the mend.”

She skimmed quickly over Tessa’s article and then the others. They had all interviewed Reece, who’d been very cautious in his comments, acknowledging only that he and Kara were friends and voicing his confidence that the police were handling the case competently and professionally. But while any other victim of an attempted sexual assault would’ve been
granted anonymity, her name had run in every paper, together with details from the police reports. The logical part of her knew it was the price of being a public figure, but it still turned her stomach to see phrases like “no vaginal trauma” next to her name and head shot.

The man who’d tried to kill her had a name—John David Weaver.

She turned the papers over.

“The cops are threatening to charge me with obstruction of justice or some damned thing if I don’t reveal to them the nature of your investigation. We’ve got legal working on it. We’ve got to wrap this up quickly, McMillan. Once the cops have it, everyone will have it. I’ve been doing a little research myself.” He handed her the file folder. “Thought you’d want to see this.”

Kara opened the file and saw the full printout for a bill. She read through it and saw that it would amend state law to allow the burning of tires as a fuel source for industry. She knew some people felt it was a better way to recycle tires, as it kept them out of landfills and decreased the need for coal mining. She glanced up at Tom, puzzled. “I see that Reece is the sponsor, but I don’t see what this has to do with my investigation.”

“Look on the last sheet.”

She pulled the last page out and put it on top. It was a list of people slated to testify in committee on behalf of the bill. She read down the list, and her pulse began to pound in her ears. She didn’t recognize the names, but under “Title/Place of Employment” two of the witnesses had listed Northrup Mining, Inc.

“This is circumstantial evidence.”

“It could be coincidence, but it does tie him to Northrup. He’s been a member of the Legislative Audit Committee for two years and has frequent contact with the health department.”

“I’m in touch with the health department on a weekly basis. Does that mean I’m trying to corrupt them? Perhaps he’s
just doing his job.” It couldn’t be Reece. His environmental record was stronger than that of any other senator. Why would he protect a polluter? Kara’s head began to throb.

“There’s more. I got a phone call from a source in the state attorney’s office today. It seems that about a week before you were attacked, Sheridan contacted them and demanded a comprehensive list of all open-records requests you’d made to the state over the past six months.”

“What? Why would he do that? If he’s in bed with Northrup, he’d already have a copy of my open-records request. He’d already know what I’m after.”

“I have no idea what your politician is up to, McMillan, but I figure you’d best find out.” He glanced at his watch. “Now when are they letting you out of here?”

CHAPTER 21

K
ARA SORTED
impatiently through a pile of newspapers while she waited for the doctor. They were supposed to discharge her today. And it wouldn’t be a moment too soon. She was tired of lying in bed like some hapless victim, tired of being afraid, tired of being away from Connor. She wanted her life back. She wanted to get back to work, to finish the investigation, to expose Northrup and whichever senator was playing dirty on Northrup’s behalf. At least then she would be
doing
something. She wouldn’t feel so damned helpless.

She’d lost so much time on the investigation. She’d snuck in a call on her cell phone to the whistleblower and had been relieved to know that he and his family were still safe. But she couldn’t shake this growing sense of urgency. She needed to wrap this story fast.

Her mother had called to say she was coming over with Connor and a bag of clothes for Kara to wear home. Not that Kara was going to her own home. Although a crime-scene cleanup crew had removed the mess and her mother had seen to it that a new sliding glass door had been installed and the bullet holes in the wall had been repaired, Kara couldn’t bear the thought of being in that space again—not yet.

Memories from that terrible night played in her mind like scenes from a video that wouldn’t stop. She found herself jumping at unexpected noises, her adrenaline on full blast,
her heart rocketing around her chest, fear whipping through her belly. The woman from the Denver PD’s victim assistance program who’d come to visit her told her that was completely normal and had suggested she get counseling. But Kara didn’t want frigging counseling—she wanted to find the bastards who’d tried to have her killed and print their police mug shots on the front page of the paper. Then she’d be able to get on with her life.

A knock at her door had her bolting upright, then wincing at the shooting pain in her ribs and skull. Tom walked in—accompanied by Chief Irving.

“You can only tie this up in court so long.” Chief Irving pointed an accusing finger at Tom’s face. “This is bullshit, and you know it. Our guys put their lives on the line to save one of yours. This has nothing to do with First Amendment rights. It has to do with attempted murder!”

“We’re all grateful the cops felt like doing their job that night, Irving, but we have our job to do, too. We can’t share our sources with you, period. And we can’t risk you giving information away to the other papers.”

Kara watched the two big men argue and saw the door nudge open again. Her mother peered into the room, then stepped tentatively inside, followed by Connor. Tom and Chief Irving didn’t seem to notice, not even when Connor crawled up onto the bed and into Kara’s lap. They still stood face-to-face, both well over six feet tall, separated only by Chief Irving’s protruding abdomen.

“How do I know one of your boys won’t slip up and pass the info along to the other papers? We know how easy it is to loosen lips at the DPD.”

“You saying my officers can’t be trusted?”

Kara realized what her mother was going to do a second before she did it.

“Excuse me!” Her mother forced her five-foot-four self in between the two men. “If you two bulls would like to continue this territorial dispute, perhaps you could lock horns outside. Or perhaps you could urinate around your respective
territories. Either way, this is a hospital, so if you want to stay in Kara’s room, shut up!”

Kara had never seen Tom looking quite so astonished in all the years she’d known him. He glared down at her mother. “Who are you?”

“I’m Kara’s mother, Lily McMillan.”

To her horror, Kara watched as Tom’s gaze dropped from her mother’s face to her mother’s . . . breasts. And she knew exactly what he was thinking.
The topless protest photo.

“Good to meet you.” Tom reached out his hand and continued to check out her mother, his gaze sliding over her as if she were the latest reporting intern. “I’m Tom Trent, edit—”

Her mother shook his hand, a look of disdain on her face. “I know who you are. Kara’s told me what an ass you can be at times. I see it’s true.”

Tom flinched as if she’d hit him, and for the second time a look of complete astonishment crossed his face. He wasn’t used to being dressed down.

Kara’s stomach turned. “Thanks, Mom. Now I need a new job.”

But no one seemed to hear her, except Connor, who looked up at her confused. She kissed the top of his head and gave him a reassuring squeeze.

“I’m Chief Irving, Lily. I apologize for disturbing your daughter, but it’s her safety we’ve come here to discuss.”

“Can’t it wait until I get her home?”

Tom and Chief Irving looked at one another and shifted uncomfortably.

Tom spoke first. “We don’t think she should go home with you.”

Kara and her mother spoke at the exact same moment. “What?”

Tom placed what was ostensibly a reassuring hand on her mother’s shoulder. “The newspaper is very concerned about McMill . . . about Kara’s safety. I agree with Chief Irving here that she would only be putting all of you in danger if she were to stay with you.”

Chief Irving cleared his throat, looked as if he were getting ready to drop a bomb. “Lily, it’s probably best if you and Connor were to go out of town for a few weeks—”

“At the newspaper’s expense, of course,” Tom added.

“—until this is over. In the meantime, we’ll put Kara up in a safehouse.”

Kara felt fear roll over in her stomach, and she hugged Connor more tightly. She started to speak, but Tom cut her off before a single word made it past her lips.

“A safehouse? I thought we agreed on a secured hotel.”

Chief Irving shook his head. “No, we agreed on a DPD safehouse.”

As the men began to argue again, Kara met her mother’s gaze and saw fear in her mother’s eyes. What had she gotten them all into?

R
EECE CHECKED
in at the security desk at the state health department, received his visitor tag, and was escorted back through a maze of hallways to the director’s office by Director Owens himself. The man oozed friendliness that didn’t manage to quite cover his nerves.

“We’re glad you’re here, Senator. We’re proud of the work we do, and it’s not often that we get to show it off.”

“I’m here on specific business, Mr. Owens.”

“Yes, I understand you’ve requested to view one particular file.” The words were spoken with studied blandness.

“The Northrup file.”

“I believe it’s waiting for you on my desk. May I ask what your interest is in this particular mining operation?”

“It’s related to my work with the Legislative Audit Committee.”
In other words, no.

The lines around Owens’s eyes drew tighter. “I understand.”

I bet you do.

Reece followed him through his office door, aware that everyone in the office was staring at him, and sat in the plush
leather chair offered to him. Scenic photographs of Colorado’s mountains decked the walls of the office, their cherry wood frames matching Owens’s rather luxurious executive desk and bookshelves.

“Can I get you something to drink, Senator?”

“No, thank you. Just the file.”

Owens smiled and handed him a file folder about an inch thick. “Here you go. I trust you’ll find everything in order. We work hard with companies to balance the needs of the environment with the realities of business.”

Reece opened the folder and met Owens’s gaze. “And which is your priority, Mr. Owens—the environment or business?”

Owens seemed to strain to maintain his smile. “Obviously our job is to protect human health, which means enforcing environmental laws is our first priority.”