Page 16 of Deadly Force

Her eyes narrow, and she glances past me out the window. “Walter is watching us.”

I follow her gaze toward the entrance and grimace. He’s talking to several staffers I put the hard word on.

“Yeah. Okay. Time to go.”

I pull my belt across my lap and wait until Brooke does the same before reversing and driving off, faster than the five-mile-per-hour speed limit.

“Not that I don’t appreciate you getting Betty immediate help,” she says, “but next time, loop me in.”

I glance at her, surprised. “She needed help. I got it for her.”

“You did,” she says, gentler now. “Short-term, that matters. But long-term? Betty, and probably a lotof other residents like her, need more than a rescue mission. They need exposure. Accountability.”

I press my lips together as I drive, taking the route faster this time. The sooner I get her home, the sooner I can figure out whether this is about to blow up.

“You think writing a story is going to be enough?” I ask.

“Maybe not on its own,” she says, “but it’s what I can do. Getting the truth out might be the only way to make something happen. Her family might see the report. They might come for her.”

My forehead bunches as I process that. “So your goal is to shame her son into doing something about it?”

“Sure. Whatever works.”

The light switches from green to amber and I miss my chance. I ease my foot on the brake and roll the vehicle to a stop.

“Except her son is on active duty in Germany. And this is the best he can afford.”

“Oh,” she says.

I flick a look in the rearview. Nothing. Nice and quiet.

“If you publish a story about his mother being neglected, he’s going to feel like dirt because he can’t do anything about it.”

“But the story needs to be told.”

“Maybe. But people need to be helped first. Tell it after we fix things.”

“Fix things? How? By intimidating people?”

I send her a look. “That’s not usually how Hightower works.”

“Really? Then tell me how it does work.”

I jam my lips together. She’s trying to get me to talk about Hightower. Not something I’m going to do.

“Oh right. I forgot. None of you can talk about Hightower.”

I don’t reply. Glad we don’t have to have that conversation again.

“When’s your story due?” I ask.

“Friday. But I have two others I need to get done, and I’m researching another one.”

“Good. You can work from home. We both can. I want to see if I can track down Betty’s son.”

I can feel her surprise when she speaks. “I thought you didn’t want him to know?”

“I said publishing it before Betty is helped will make him feel lousy. If I can talk to him directly and let him know his mom is going to be looked after, it’ll soften the blow.”