Page 86 of Killer Body

“Maybe not bring them down, but expose them.”

“Make them pay for what happened to Lisa? Give your aunt the revenge she wants?”

“Why not? And it isn’t revenge. It’s closure. That’s all she wants.” I realize how crazed I must sound to him. I never should have told him about Aunt Carey, never trusted him with my feelings. “Okay,” I say in his face, so close I can almost taste the cigarette he’s just smoked. “I may have started out that way, but I feel compassion for Bobby Warren, and there are things I like about Lucas, too. The fact remains that someone is trying to harm the women Bobby’s considering for Killer Body spokesmodel.”

“Harm or frighten?” he asks.

“Good question. Either way, there’s a story there. And now Julie’s called Bobby. That’s part of the story.”

He leans back in the wrought-iron chair, apparently unconvinced. “So, why print it now?”

“To keep readers focused on the story?”

“Why else?”

To keep Killer Body in the news, I think. Damn, is Hamilton right? Is my interest in this story motivated by revenge? Suddenly I can feel the sun on my face, too hot and unrelenting. I put my head in my hands, feel the heat on my skin.

Hamilton touches my bare arm and I jerk up, meeting his eyes. “It’s too damned hot out here.”

“Talk to Lucas Morrison.” His voice is low, yet harsh. “See what you can find out. After that, we’ll get together again and decide what to do next.”

“About the Larimore story?” I ask, knowing better.

“That and the rest of it.”

“Den, please don’t make me take time off.” He narrows his eyes, the lines around them carved deep, as if etched in clay. “Please, please let me stay on this story,” I say.

He looks away, then gets up, scraping his chair on the concrete.

“Let’s talk about that later, okay? After you’ve heard what Morrison has to say.”

I can take gruff from him. I can take pissed off. But I can’t take pity. Immediately, I regret pleading. The only thing that works with Hamilton is what he saw in me from the day he met me, back when I knew what I wanted.

I yank my chair out, too, facing him. “My guess is Lucas has plenty to say, and I’m the one person who can get him to say it.”

“That’s more like it.” His tough face goes tender on me, and I’m reminded again what attracted me to him in the first place. I know he feels the tug, as well.

“What is it?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “Just thinking.” Then, with a grin, “Like maybe I should apply for a job writing obits, anything to get out of being your boss.”

“I was thinking about that opening in features,” I confess.

“No, you’re ideal for this.”

“You mean it?” I ask.

“Yeah, I mean it.” His gaze doesn’t waver. “When we—when I applied for this promotion, I had no idea you and I were going to—”

“I know that, Den.”

“Sometime down the road, once you’re finished with this story, you and I need to sit down and have a talk.”

I feel myself break into a smile. Even if it never happens, just the fact that he’s said it, thrills me to the soul. “I hope we can do that,” I say.

TWENTY-THREE

The Interview