Page 7

Cameron

“ W hy do you want to pursue this, Cam?” Brent asked, looking at me with a bemused expression on his face. “I thought you were happy with the lifestyle and leisure beat? You were excited when we gave you that promotion.”

I took a deep breath, steadying myself, doing my best to make my argument compelling. “Brent, I love working the lifestyle page,” I lied. “It’s been so great, but I’ve always dreamed of being on the crime beat. My minor in college was?—”

“Criminal psychology. I know. You’ve told me. Many times.”

Heat rose in my cheeks. Duly noted—keep my mouth shut about my background. Apparently, I’d mentioned it more than I realized.

Chastised but not broken, I went on. “Yes, sorry. What I meant was, I’ve always had a desire to follow this particular branch of reporting. I think I’ve found something that can be a big story if you give me free rein to research it.”

Brent leaned back, crossing his arms, but I knew the look on his face—he was going to hear me out.

“Give me the rundown,” Brent said.

My stomach flipped, and I had to suppress a smile. “Okay, so, you heard about me getting attacked the other day?”

His face grew somber. “I did. I hope you’re doing okay?”

“Yeah,” I said, waving that off. “When I went to the police precinct to turn in my written statement, I discovered there’s more going on here than meets the eye.

” I crossed one leg over the other. “You know the three murders that have happened in the last few weeks? The lady found out on jogging trails in the north part of the city, another woman found in an alleyway downtown, and then a third woman killed in her apartment a few days ago?”

Brent’s brow furrowed. “Where are you going with this?”

“The detective I was speaking to about my case let it slip that I resembled all three women. Dark or tanned complexion, chin to shoulder-length dark hair, similar age, and eye color.” I pulled the photos of the women I’d printed out of my briefcase and slid them across the table to Brent.

He studied them. “You think there’s a pattern here?”

Nodding eagerly, I said, “Another confidential source mentioned rumors circulating in the police department. A few cops seem to think these killings might be the work of a serial killer. All the killings show signs of an animal attack. He thinks there might be someone using a specially trained attack dog to commit these killings.”

“Jesus, Cam. Do you think this guy wanted to kill you the other night?” Brent gaped at me in horror.

The same thought that had chilled my blood earlier was pushed aside as I tried to convey my story. While a bit similar, the odds of my attacker being the serial killer were beyond astronomical.

“The odds are low,” I admitted, “but the possibility remains that this could have been the same person who killed those other women. I look like them, and the attack was aggressive. This guy may have targeted me.”

Brent shook his head in shocked wonder. “What did this detective say when you pressed him on it? I know you; I’m sure you pressed him.”

This time, I couldn’t keep the grin off my face. “I did, in fact, push for more. He got very defensive when he found out I was a reporter. He wasn’t happy that I was asking questions and seemed really uncomfortable with it all. I’m telling you, Brent, the police are hiding something.

“My hunch?” I continued. “I think the department thinks they’re dealing with a serial killer.

They want to keep it quiet until they’re sure.

I bet they believe it’ll cause a city-wide panic.

I’ve read about what happened back in the seventies with Son of Sam.

It could get bad, and they’re trying to solve it before word gets out.

” I jabbed the top of his desk for emphasis.

“And you want to be the one to cause the panic?” he asked with a wry smile.

“That’s not…” I sputtered. “No, I just think that if that’s what’s going on, the public should be aware.”

“Calm down, Torres. I’m fucking with you. I’m a newsman. It’s our job to report the news, not tell people how to react to it.”

“So, does that mean I can follow the lead?” I asked, hopefully.

He chewed the inside of his cheek and looked down at the pictures of the women. Finally, he looked up at me with a grim smile.

“Tell you what. Follow it for the next week, see if you can dig up anything more. If you can get enough for a full story, preferably a few good quotes, anonymous or otherwise? I’ll get you a spot on the front page.”

“No shit?” I gasped, then clamped my hand to my mouth.

Brent chuckled. “No shit, kid. But”—he held up a finger in warning—“if you think you get to shirk your assignments for the lifestyle beat, you got another think coming. If you want the accolades, you gotta work twice as hard. Speaking of which, don’t forget that North American Sewing and Quilting Convention you need to report on tomorrow. ”

“You got it,” I said, my chest bursting with excitement. “I don’t care what you want to send me on. You can count on me. I promise.”

“Sounds good. Now, go get me a serial killer lead.”

When I walked out of Brent’s office, I had a fresh bounce in my step. A whole new opportunity was on the horizon, and I needed to play this right.

That became even more clear when I got back to my desk and went through my calendar. I already had a ton of work to do, and now I’d added an additional assignment to my already full plate.

As I organized my timing on deadlines and interview appointments, I told myself I could do this.

I worked my ass off in college. I’d had a full-time job, was the editor-in-chief of the student newspaper, and still got straight As so I didn’t lose my scholarship.

It hadn’t been easy, and this wouldn’t be, either, but I’d figure it out.

I wasn’t scared of hard work, and if I wanted to achieve my dream of being editor-in-chief of The Chronicle one day, this was the price I had to pay.

I glanced at the framed picture of my mom and Gael. We took it at his tenth birthday party last year. They were smiling at the camera, happy, even though money was always tight. Seeing their faces always made me want to work even harder than ever to make sure they had a better life.

“Shit,” I muttered. I hadn’t taken their schedules into account.

Taking out my phone, I pulled up the calendar app and scrolled through.

Mom had a dentist appointment, and Gael wanted to go to a school play because his friend was in it.

Other than that, nothing big. I might need to reschedule Mom’s appointment if I managed to get some free time to make calls to the cops I knew.

It wasn’t an issue, though. I typically helped manage most of the household, and this would be no different.

I spent the next couple of hours organizing my desk and making notes on what I’d need to do tomorrow.

All around me, the other reporters, junior editors, photographers, and graphic designers began to trickle out as it grew close to quitting time.

Still, I tried to get as much extra work done as possible, even managing to finish two different stories on local activities before getting up from my desk to stretch my back.

Brent had already gone home. His office was dark, the door closed. If the big boss man had called it a day, then I supposed it was time for me to leave.

Grabbing my coffee mug, I headed to the breakroom to rinse it out. The sink was full of dishes and cups. I grabbed the sponge on the side of the counter and started washing up.

“Cameron, you know you don’t have to do that, right?”

Glancing over my shoulder, I found Tina Morales, a copyeditor who worked the sports page, watching me.

“What do you mean?” I asked. “It’s dirty.”

Tina rolled her eyes and gestured toward the cubicles outside the door. “If those assholes aren’t willing to clean up after themselves, then why should you do it for them?”

“Someone’s got to do it. Why not me?”

Tina let out a little huff. “You’re too nice for your own good, Torres. Have a good night. I’m out.”

“Goodnight,” I called over my shoulder, diligently scrubbing cream cheese and jelly off a plastic plate.

It wasn’t about being too nice, it was about doing what’s right. Regardless of how others handled things, I prided myself on trying to do the right thing ever since I was a kid.

I’d seen what could happen if you didn’t. All the men who’d left my mom high and dry were evidence of that.

Once I was done with the dishes, I grabbed my bag and stepped into the elevator. As I stepped out on the ground floor, my phone rang. It was Rick. I sighed at the sight of his number. He was getting bad about calling me while I was at work. A small issue, but one that irked me nonetheless.

“Hey, babe,” I said.

“Are you still at work?” he asked.

“Just leaving,” I said.

“Lord, you work too hard. Are we still on for Sunday?”

I stepped out of the building and into the open air outside.

Rick and I did have plans for Sunday, but he’d been doing everything he could to check in on me since the attack happened.

Calling at least three times a day to make sure I was fine, but using some other excuse for each call.

It was getting a little ridiculous, honestly.

Instead of feeling grateful, I was getting annoyed.

Like he viewed me as some precious porcelain doll that might break at the slightest touch.

“We should be good to go,” I said, approaching my car. “I don’t see why not.”

“Great. I can’t wait to see you. I’ve missed you the last week.”

“I miss you, too,” I said somewhat distractedly as I dug for my keys.