WLUV Box Set: Ignited, Consumed, Burned (17 page)

 “Are you
sure this is what you want?” Macy asked Mac again.

“Just give
me a few days with Gordon, or Alva, or whoever.” Mac didn’t want to elaborate.
Macy may be the news director now, but she was still an investigative reporter
to the core. She was like a bloodhound, and she’d sniff out his feelings for
Shelby soon enough.

So Mac
struggled not to give Macy any hint of what was going on because she’d get the
story out of him. All she needed was a little kernel. He’d seen her do it as a
reporter, start with a molehill and unearth the mountain. She hadn’t changed a
bit, even if she was the boss now, and not on the beat.

“I just
need a few days, that’s all. A little change-up.” Mac tried to limit the number
of words he gave Macy to dissect.

“Hmm. This
is the first time I’ve ever had someone
ask
to work with Gordon. But
sure we can mix it up a bit. I’ll tell Bernie.” Macy zeroed in on him, “So the
obvious follow-up, what’s wrong with Shelby Virtue?” She stared at him.

“She’s too
attached to me. I think it’d be good for her to work with a few other photogs.”
Mac lied.

“Don’t
make me laugh. I think there’s an attachment— but it’s you. To her.” A smug
smile spread across Macy’s lips as she realized she’d dug out the real story.

“Fine. I
can’t hide shit from you. Stop being so smug, it’s not a big deal. I’m not
going to lie. She’s uh, well, she affects me. But she affects everyone! I just
need a little space from her that’s all.”

“Is this
about Karen?” Macy knew the story, even if no one else did. The network had
kept him out of the news accounts. Only Karen’s name was in the headlines, her
“crew” was mentioned, but it never came out that her “crew” was him.

“Only in
the sense that I came here for a no-attachment scenario and to do a job in a
somewhat safer environment than my last fifty assignments,” Mac had opened up
about as much as he was going to.

“Look, I
brought you here because I’ve got a rookie I’m trying to turn into a news
hound, so working with Gordon is not really what I had in mind. I suppose that as
the boss I need say something about office romance but…” Mac watched an
uncharacteristic blush spread across Macy’s face.

“But you’d
be talking out the other side of your mouth.” Mac pointed out.

“Right.
Fine. You got me there. The rest of the week you’re on assignment with Gordon.
He’ll be thrilled, since he’s been asking for you for his sweeps shoot anyway.
He thinks Shelby’s getting special treatment, so hopefully this shuts him up.”

“Great.”
Mac turned to leave the office.

“Monday
you’re back at it with Shelby, so get your head on straight.”  Mac waved a hand
at Macy as he walked out the door.

Maybe a
few days away from Shelby would help to get her out of his system, Mac hoped,
but he was also a realist. Nothing would stop the thoughts he had about
touching her face, her skin, or how they’d fit so perfectly together. So he
would pull this thing with Shelby off like a Band-Aid, one quick yank. He’d put
a quick distance between them and give her the coldest shoulder he could
muster. She was young and had her generation’s nonexistent attention span. It
wouldn’t take her long to forget about the grumpy old man who’d kissed her in
the edit bay.

**

The rest
of the week went by with Mac successfully avoiding Shelby. She tried to talk to
him but he was always out with Gordon, or putting gear away, or taking one of
the vehicles out for service, and he’d quickly exit any conversation she’d
tried to join. He was a damned frustrating man.

Shelby
wanted to make things normal again between them but she feared that was never
going to happen. They’d crossed a line and now she didn’t have Mac as a
photographer, as a mentor, or as a friend. She was low on friends right about
then and didn’t really know who to talk to about it.

So she
didn’t. She worked. And, thanks to Miss Dara, she was able to spend time at the
Grand Inner City Ballet. She was teaching there and helping with a special
showcase for the upcoming Gala.

It helped,
staying busy. But in her few quiet moments all Shelby could think about was
Mac. Did she make a mistake? Could she really be that bad at kissing?

There was
no way for her to know, since Mac refused to even be in the same room with her.

Well, she
wasn’t one to chase after a man so if he wasn’t interested that would have to
be that. That’s what she decided, logically, but her heart and body hadn’t
caught up with her brain. She really was just like a puppy, scampering after
Mac for approval, and she hated that image. So she stopped looking for him.

The story
she’d just filed for the six o’clock newscast was okay, but not great. She
started typing in material to check on for the later shows when the police
scanner blasted a code three call to a very familiar address.

Mac was
shooting a live shot with Gordon at City Hall and the other reporters were on
the way out for the day. Shelby was determined that she was going to cover
this. There was no stopping her really, but she ran into Macy’s office to get
the okay. Macy was already up out of her desk at the sound of the scanner
traffic.

“Did I
hear house fire, two still inside, one possible child?” Macy yelled across to
Bernie.

“Yes.”
Shelby said under her breath. Bernie nodded.

“I know
exactly where that is. I’ll grab the gear and go right now.” Shelby offered.

 “Do we
have anyone else?” Macy called over her shoulder to Bernie. It stung a little
that Macy didn’t see how far Shelby had come in the last few weeks. Bernie
yelled back that no, they did not have another reporter to go to this house
fire.

“Alright,
Shelby, get a vehicle key from Bernie, but I’m going to reroute another crew to
you. If this is what it sounds like, we’re going to need more than one reporter
on it. Don’t get territorial, work together out there. Now go!”

Shelby
grabbed the keys from Bernie and heard Macy call after her as she ran out of
the newsroom, “And obey all traffic laws!”

Shelby
didn’t need to look at GPS or a map. She knew this address. It was Angie
Karakas’ house, the woman she’d interviewed about the arson fires, the one
who’d accused Davie Groll. Nothing had ever been done since her stories aired.
No arrest had been made and now another house was on fire, Angie’s.

Before she
pulled onto the street, Shelby could see the thick black smoke from the house
billowing into the sky. Fire trucks blocked her from getting too close so she
parked the station vehicle as near as she could to the scene, even though she
was almost a block away. She grabbed the camera. The weight of it felt like
nothing now that adrenaline was powering her actions.

She moved
as fast as she could over water lines, police blockades, and past neighbors so
she could get a shot of the home. Firefighters were still in attack mode.

“First
floor search complete.” She heard the message relayed over the walkie-talkie to
the Unit Commander at the water truck.

“Engine 3,
second floor search status,” the Unit Commander issued the request from a
second team still inside the structure.

Shelby
scanned the crowd. Angie Karakas was sitting in the back of a rescue vehicle
with a reflective blanket draped around her. She was staring at the house and
shaking her head back and forth, signaling no over and over again. Flames were
intensifying; the small home wouldn’t be there for long.

 “Engine 3
report, I will issue an evacuate order if you do not report.”

“We’ve got
her sir, on the way out.”

Then a
wail escaped Angie’s lips. Shelby moved closer to the house to see what had
elicited the yell, but her stomach turned upside down because she already knew.
A hulking firefighter emerged from the engulfed home and in his arms was the
baby, the little one she’d seen just days ago, whose cheek she’d touched. The
child was lifeless.

Shelby let
the heavy camera equipment hang down at her side. She forgot about shooting,
forgot about the story.  Two firefighters, either overcome by what they’d just
seen or by the effort of fighting the fire, she wasn’t sure which, both lay
down on the lawn of the house.

From
behind her Angie called to her, “Hey, you! NEWS LADY!”

Shelby had
hardly registered the woman’s voice before Angie Karakas was in her face,
spitting, screaming, “What was it? Virtue? Listen to me, Virtue! Why didn’t you
stop him? I told you,
I told you
it was Davie!”

Before
Shelby could even put up a defense, Angie punched her square in the jaw. Her
eyes stung with tears as she staggered backwards, and she would have fallen if
not for a familiar pair of strong arms that caught her as she reeled.

Several
firefighters surrounded the completely hysterical Angie Karakas.

“Angie,
I’m so sorry. This is just...” Shelby wanted to explain, to somehow help the
woman, but Mac held her back. Gently, he dragged Shelby back to the car that he
and Gordon arrived in. She felt awful for Angie, for the neighborhood, for that
baby. She slumped against the seat and thought she might throw up.

She
wondered how Mac had even gotten there, then dimly recalled that he’d been
shooting a story with Gordon. Macy must have rerouted them to this scene.

And there
was Gordon, rushing past Mac and Shelby “Mac, get the fuck over here we need to
talk to the family!” Mac deliberately ignored him.

Gordon
poked a microphone towards Angie’s face, “Ma’am, can I ask you a few
questions?”

Shelby
didn’t know what came over her but she launched at Gordon “Leave her alone, you
vulture! She just lost a child!”

He
dismissed her, “Get out of the way and let the real reporters work.”

Shelby
didn’t know what to do next. She felt stunned, absolutely unhinged in the chaos
of the moment. The heat of the fire, the flashing light, the open insult. The
dead baby. It was all too much.

Suddenly
Mac was right beside her, “Go get the camera. Do what you were assigned to do,”
he whispered in her ear, “I’ll get the fire, and Gordon can get firefighter
interviews.
You
go get the people. That’s what you do best, better than
Gordon ever could.”

Mac was
right. She needed to get this story. No one could ignore what had happened to
this child, this family. She wouldn’t let it happen.

Shelby
used her coat sleeve to dab the little bit of blood on her lip where Angie
Karakas had just clocked her. Angie may be in shock and grief, but she was
probably right: If Davie Groll was the firebug, he’d just made her pay for her
accusation by setting her house on fire.

And that
gave Shelby had a mission. She was going to make sure Davie Groll got what was
coming to him.

As
much as she just wanted to crawl off and curl into a ball somewhere, the image
of that poor little baby girl haunted her. It motivated her. That sweet baby
deserved Shelby's full dedication, and so s
he interviewed every bystander she could find, and no
less than fifteen neighbors. Again and again, Davie Groll’s name came up. The
fire officials agreed that arson was the likely cause of the fire, but,
frustratingly, they didn’t have any evidence to suggest that it was Groll.

Gordon got
his interviews, Shelby hers. But she wasn’t done. She looked down the street,
remembering when Angie had first pointed out the green house with white
shutters. She suspected he was watching from somewhere, that’s what pyromaniacs
did. They liked to see their handiwork. She walked up to Davie Groll’s front
door and knocked, but there was nothing. He was still hiding from her.

It was
eight o’clock before the crowds started to disperse. From her interviews she’d
learned half the neighborhood wanted to beat the shit out of him for setting
the fires; the other half were related to him or wanted to get a dime bag from
him – or both – so they protected him. It was a mess.

She headed
back to the car so she could get to the station and put her part of the story
together. When she got there, she found Mac waiting for her. He took her gear
from her and loaded it into the car.

“Where’s
Gordon?” She didn’t see the asshole anywhere.

“We’ll
meet him back at the station. He took the other vehicle because I wanted to
drive you.”

Shelby
wasn’t in the mood to be scolded. “What, so you could give me shit for running
off? I don’t work with you anymore.”

“No, it’s
because you were tough today—you took a punch and you kept working. I figured
you could use a ride.”

The
compliment shocked her. “Thank you.” Shelby sat down on the passenger side,
even though she wanted to crawl over the seat so Mac could hold her. She knew
his arms were strong, warm, and she needed a cry. The events of the day were
more than she’d ever bargained for when she set her mind to being “on TV.”

“Is this
my fault? Could I have stopped it if I was more persistent with the police
or—or with Groll?” A small sob escaped from her lips and it took everything she
had not to let it pour out into a full-on weep.