Friday Edition, The (19 page)

Sam was stiff with pain the next morning, but she arrived at the coroner’s office promptly at seven. Judie Rossetti was at her desk when she knocked.

“Morning, Judie.”

“Good morning,” she said and motioned to the empty chair in front of her desk. Sam sat down with effort, grimacing with a pain that Judie could not help noticing. “What happened?” Judie asked. “You look like hell.”

“I feel like it, too,” Sam said, not bothering to hide her discomfort.

“What happened to your lip?”

Sam touched the area lightly with the tip of her finger. “You should see the rest of me. I’m going to turn all kinds of wonderful colors.”

“What happened?”

“First, how was the cruise?”

Judie’s face softened. “Beautiful,” she said. “We relaxed and had a wonderful time and, of course, we ate more than we should have.” However her face clouded over again as she briefly scanned the report in front of her. “But the moment we got home yesterday afternoon, I came right down here to check Robin’s autopsy. There was a bruise on the side of Robin’s head. I thought about it the entire time I was gone.”

“A bruise?” Sam said leaning forward.

“It was something I just saw in passing. I came in yesterday because I wanted to see if they had made a note of it during the autopsy, but it wasn’t there.”

“What did you see?” Sam asked, feeling uneasy.

“It was a bruise consistent with someone holding something hard against her temple.”

Sam swallowed hard. “Like what?”

Their eyes locked. “Like a gun,” Judie said.

Sam grunted as she leaned gingerly back against her chair and closed her eyes. Silence hung in the room before Sam told Judie about the beating in the garage. “You should go to the hospital, Sam.”

“Judie, you know I can’t.”

Judie studied her friend a moment and shook her head. “At least let one of the doctors here take a look at you. Before you leave this morning, all right?

“As long as they don’t ask too many questions, Judie. I can’t risk anything at this point.”

A tear rolled down Sam’s face and she wiped it away with her index finger. “I can’t tell you how this makes me feel whenever I think of the situation Robin had gotten herself in. It was so desperate and she didn’t share it with anyone.”

Judie stared at her numbly. “Now, April? What’re you going to do?”

Sam shrugged her shoulders and winced slightly. “I wish I knew. I can handle anything, but the thought of them hurting April is too much for me. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost her too.”

They looked at the document opened before them.

“Is that Robin’s autopsy report?” Sam asked.

Judie nodded and looked at Sam hard.

“Why didn’t you say something the first night you called and gave me the report?” Sam asked.

“I wasn’t ready then,” Judie said. “I needed to confirm my suspicions before I felt at liberty to say anything. Because that’s all it was initially, Sam, just a suspicion.”

The two women stared at each other. Sam’s blue eyes were filled with fatigue. Judie’s eyes were as Sam usually saw them: clear, sharp and eager. “This death should be ruled a homicide,” Judie said matter-of-factly.

Sam nodded slowly keeping her eyes fixed on the folder. “You’ve felt this way all along about Robin’s death, haven’t you? Just as I have.”

“I saw bruising against her right temple. Like I said, that’s consistent with someone holding a gun to her head. But it was never recorded here,” Judie said, tapping the report.

Sam felt flushed and her heart began to gallop. When she spoke her voice was filled with frustration. “A gun? Doesn’t surprise me.”

“I’ve been over and over this report,” Judie said. “Robin’s injuries were consistent with being pushed, rather than having fallen over the railing. They must’ve forced her to the door at gunpoint and when she wouldn’t jump, they pushed her.”

Sam closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead hard. She felt like someone had kicked her in the stomach.

Judie went on. “To duplicate the fall, we dropped a mannequin from Robin’s balcony.”

“What happened?”

When Judie spoke, it was slow and deliberate, knowing she treaded on fragile territory. “We determined that the spot where she landed wasn’t consistent with an accidental fall, or from jumping.”

Sam breathed a deep sigh of relief, feeling satisfied. “I’ve got to tell Rey, but he still hasn’t returned the page I sent on Saturday. It’s not like him and I’m worried something’s happened.”

“Who’s Rey?” Judie asked.

Sam told her how she met Rey. “It just isn’t right that he hasn’t called back,” Sam said.

Both women kept their attention silently fixed on Robin’s autopsy report. “I’ll call Grandview PD today and talk to the detective who’s handling the case. We’re going to reopen it as a murder investigation,” Judie said.

“Let me have the story first, Judie, as an exclusive. Robin would have come to me first too. But we won’t have it until Friday. The dailies could have a field day if they get it before we do.” Sam was quiet a moment before she added, “And I have to do something about April, bring her somewhere out of harm’s way. I need to make sure she is safe first and foremost. If she’s not, then I simply can’t do anything at all, knowing that she could get hurt—or worse—because of all this.”

“Talk to Jonathan,” Judie said.

“I had every intention of talking to him today. He has to do something to protect her.”

Judie nodded in agreement. “I’ll wait until Friday morning then. It’s hard as hell to find someone around here on Fridays.”

When their eyes met, Judie winked. It made Sam smile. “Perfect,” Sam said remembering her last conversation with W. Robert Simmons. Sam struggled to get to her feet making every effort to move as little as possible. Judie picked up the phone and dialed one of the doctors. Sam waited while Judie finished the conversation. “Go to the third floor and tell them I sent you,” Judie told Sam as she hung up the phone. “It won’t take long.”

When she collected herself, she looked at Judie, sitting behind her large desk with her hands folded and resting under her chin. “Thanks, Judie, I couldn’t do it without you.”

“Just be careful, please,” Judie said and shooed Sam from her office.

Sam arrived at the
Perspective
shortly before ten and saw Nick Weeks as she entered the building. She noticed that he was looking at his watch, but she didn’t care. The exam had taken longer than expected, but she was glad she agreed to be examined by the doctor. Expect to be sore the next few days, he told her. As she walked to her desk, her gaze flickered toward Wilson’s office. It was dark.

She reached her desk and paged Rey again. A call came for her ten minutes later.

“It’s about time, Rey,” she whispered and sighed deeply.

“Hi, it’s me.”

Sam felt her heart drop. “Jonathan? What do you want?”

“You sound disappointed,” he said.

“I was expecting another call,” Sam said trying to regain her composure. “What’s up?”

“I’m on my way to work, but I want to stop by. I’ve got a story.”

“What kind of story?”

“I’m about ten minutes away,” Jonathan said ignoring her query. “I’ll fill you in when I get there.”

“Fine,” she said and hung up.

She greeted him at the reception area a few minutes later.

“What happened?” Jonathan asked, pointing to her lip.

“Oh, it’s nothing. I walked into a wall the other night,” she said in a voice that didn’t elicit further response. She knew he thought that she had been drinking. “What’s so important that you couldn’t tell me over the phone?” she asked when they reached her desk.

“I guess you haven’t heard.”

Sam shook her head. “Heard what?”

“One of our officers was killed over the weekend.”

“That’s too bad. Who?”

“Rey Estrada.”

She felt a part of herself break off and fall away. “Rey?” she said in a hollow voice.

“Did you know him?”

Sam tried to stay focused, but felt on the verge of passing out. Her blood rushed in her ears and her heart felt like it was about to explode. It took the strength she had left to stay alert. She sat down heavily in her chair.

“Well … I’ve … I know him, but, no … no I … I didn’t know him personally. We uh, did a ride along recently, but …” she stammered. “What … what happened?”

There was a brief silence as Jonathan pulled a chair next to her desk. She stared numbly at her desk calendar, aware of nothing.

“Sam? Are you okay?”

She blinked several times and looked at Jonathan, trying to collect herself. “I’m … I’m fine. What happened?” she asked as she reached for a reporter’s notebook.

When she did, Jonathan saw that her hand was shaking.

“Rey was directing traffic at an intersection on Wads and a car hit him.”

“Wasn’t he wearing one of those bright orange vests?” Sam asked and glared at Jonathan as her anger rose within her, the picture suddenly snapping into place.

“The driver apparently had some kind of a seizure and ran into him. They took him to Lutheran, but he was DOA.”

Sam tried to write, but it was difficult to maintain her composure. All she managed to do was swirl small, heavy black circles in her notebook. “When did it happen?” she asked in a voice as fragile as she felt.

“Saturday afternoon.”

Sam jotted down his response and underlined it twice.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“I’m fine. I had a bad night. What else?”

Jonathan provided the rest of the details and ended by telling her Rey’s funeral would be Wednesday.

A half-hour later he was gone, but not before Sam had managed the wherewithal to tell him her fears about April. “You have to do something to help her, Jonathan, please. I don’t know what’s going on, but until I know she is safe then nothing else matters.”

“Don’t worry about, April,” he assured her. “I will take care of everything.”

Sam sat and stared, anesthetized, at Wednesday’s date. January 28. She circled the date several times with her pen.

Wilson entered the newsroom and was walking to his office when he noticed Sam, her forehead resting in the palm of her hand. He stopped and watched as she continued to circle the date, unaware he was there. “Sam,” he called softly.

She did not respond.

When he touched her shoulder she looked at him. Her eyes were red and her lip stood out like a beacon. “Sam, what’s the matter?”

The concern in Wilson’s voice was evident as he touched her shoulder. His touch was meant to comfort her, but she recoiled from it. She felt cold and empty. She was trying and failing miserably to keep the tears from coming. Wilson saw and felt her frustration.

“Come with me,” he said and headed for his office.

When they were inside, he closed the door.

“Sit here. It’s more comfortable,” he said, motioning her to the couch. He sat in a chair facing her.

All she needed was a moment of silence and she had it now. Everything came forward in an absolute burst of fire.

“How the hell could they have known about Rey?” Wilson asked.

Sam shook her head, too exhausted to speak.

Wilson studied Sam. She looked small and lost against the pattern of the couch, too frail for the forces that lined up against her. She told him about her morning visit to the coroner’s office. He put his hand on her knee. His tempered touch brought her eyes to his. They were soft and yielded the first sense of relief she had felt in days. She made a small attempt at a smile. “Go home,” he said.

“No.” Her voice was emphatic. “Jonathan told me he would make sure that April stayed safe, so I’m not leaving until I write the story Judie and I talked about this morning.”

“Then I want you to lie here and rest awhile before you start. Understood?”

She looked at him and nodded, feeling too powerless to argue. He kept a hand-woven, fringe-knotted Mexican blanket draped over the back of the couch. He had received the gift from a friend who had gone to Mexico and kept it in his office as a reminder of her. It was the color of the rainbow. Wilson covered Sam and she was asleep within minutes.

It was nearly noon when Sam opened her eyes. It took a moment for her to focus and when she did, she saw Wilson sitting at his desk. His light tap-tap at the keyboard provided a soothing sound that made Sam feel safe. She did not want to move.

Wilson could feel her eyes on him and looked at her over his reading glasses. “Feel better?” he asked.

Sam nodded. “A little.”

“The publisher of the Post probably wouldn’t let you sack out a few hours on his couch,” Wilson said playfully.

She couldn’t help her laughter. “I doubt he would either. Thanks. I guess I really needed that.”

Wilson nodded as if to say ‘of course you did.’