live report, and the camera remained off.
Christine recognized Deputy Eddie Gillick in the line. She approached slowly, making certain he saw her, knowing one wrong move could get her throttled.
“Deputy Gillick? Hi, it’s Christine Hamilton. Remember me?”
He stared at her like a toy soldier unwilling to give in to any distraction. Then his eyes softened, and there was a hint of a smile before he controlled the impulse.
“Mrs. Hamilton. Sure, I remember. You’re Tony’s daughter. What brings you out here?”
“I work for the Omaha Journal now.”
“Oh.” The soldier face returned.
She needed to think fast or she’d lose him. She noticed Gillick’s slicked-back hair, not a strand out of place, the overpowering smell of aftershave lotion. Even the pencil-thin mustache was meticulously trimmed. His uniform looked wrinkle-free. His tie was cinched tightly at his neck and tacked down with a gold tie tack. A quick glance showed no wedding band. She’d take a chance that he considered himself a bit of a lady’s man.
“I can’t believe how muddy it is out here. Silly me. I even lost my shoes.” She pointed to her mud-caked feet and the red-painted toenails peeking through her stockings. Gillick checked out the feet, and she was pleased when his eyes ran the length of her long legs. The uncomfortably short skirt would finally pay for its discomfort.
“Yes, ma’am, it sure is a mess.” He crossed his arms over his chest and shifted his weight, visibly uncomfortable. “You should be careful you don’t catch cold.” One more look, this time his eyes took in more than just her legs. She felt them stop at her breasts and found herself arching her back to split the blazer open just a little more to accommodate him.
“This whole situation is a mess, isn’t it, Eddie? It is Eddie, isn’t it?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He looked pleased that she remembered. “Although I’m not allowed to discuss the situation at hand.”
“Oh, sure. I understand.” She leaned in close to him, despite the smell of Brylcream. Even without shoes she was almost his height. “I know you’re not allowed to discuss anything about the Alverez boy,” she whispered, her lips close to his ear.
His glance registered surprise. An eyebrow raised, and his eyes softened again. “How did you know?” He turned to see if anyone was listening.
Bingo. She’d hit the jackpot. Careful now. Cool and calm. Don’t blow it.
“Oh, you know I can’t say who my sources are, Eddie.” Would he recognize the low hushed voice as seductive or as a line of bull? She had never been very good at seduction, or at least that was what Bruce had told her.
“Sure, of course.” He nodded, taking the hook.
“You probably didn’t even get a chance to look at the scene. You know, being stuck out here doing the real dirty work.”
“Oh, no. I got more than an eyeful.” He puffed out his chest as if he dealt with this sort of thing on a daily basis.
“The boy’s in pretty bad shape, huh?”
“Yeah, looks like the son of a bitch gutted him,” he whispered without a hint of emotion.
She felt the blood rush from her head. Her knees went weak. The boy was dead.
“Hey!” Gillick yelled, and she thought for a second he had discovered the deception. “Shut that camera off! Excuse me, Mrs. Hamilton.”
As Gillick snatched at Channel Nine’s camera, Christine retreated to her car. She sat with the door open, fanning herself with the empty notepad and taking in long breaths of the cool night air. Despite the chill, her blouse stuck to her.
Danny Alverez was dead, murdered. To quote Deputy Gillick, “gutted.”
She had her first big story, yet in the pit of her stomach the butterflies had turned into cockroaches.
CHAPTER 5
F rom a mile away, the pasture was lit up like a football stadium on game night. Christine stomped on the accelerator, weaving her car through the gravel.
Something big was definitely happening. The excitement fluttered in
Christine recognized Deputy Eddie Gillick in the line. She approached slowly, making certain he saw her, knowing one wrong move could get her throttled.
“Deputy Gillick? Hi, it’s Christine Hamilton. Remember me?”
He stared at her like a toy soldier unwilling to give in to any distraction. Then his eyes softened, and there was a hint of a smile before he controlled the impulse.
“Mrs. Hamilton. Sure, I remember. You’re Tony’s daughter. What brings you out here?”
“I work for the Omaha Journal now.”
“Oh.” The soldier face returned.
She needed to think fast or she’d lose him. She noticed Gillick’s slicked-back hair, not a strand out of place, the overpowering smell of aftershave lotion. Even the pencil-thin mustache was meticulously trimmed. His uniform looked wrinkle-free. His tie was cinched tightly at his neck and tacked down with a gold tie tack. A quick glance showed no wedding band. She’d take a chance that he considered himself a bit of a lady’s man.
“I can’t believe how muddy it is out here. Silly me. I even lost my shoes.” She pointed to her mud-caked feet and the red-painted toenails peeking through her stockings. Gillick checked out the feet, and she was pleased when his eyes ran the length of her long legs. The uncomfortably short skirt would finally pay for its discomfort.
“Yes, ma’am, it sure is a mess.” He crossed his arms over his chest and shifted his weight, visibly uncomfortable. “You should be careful you don’t catch cold.” One more look, this time his eyes took in more than just her legs. She felt them stop at her breasts and found herself arching her back to split the blazer open just a little more to accommodate him.
“This whole situation is a mess, isn’t it, Eddie? It is Eddie, isn’t it?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He looked pleased that she remembered. “Although I’m not allowed to discuss the situation at hand.”
“Oh, sure. I understand.” She leaned in close to him, despite the smell of Brylcream. Even without shoes she was almost his height. “I know you’re not allowed to discuss anything about the Alverez boy,” she whispered, her lips close to his ear.
His glance registered surprise. An eyebrow raised, and his eyes softened again. “How did you know?” He turned to see if anyone was listening.
Bingo. She’d hit the jackpot. Careful now. Cool and calm. Don’t blow it.
“Oh, you know I can’t say who my sources are, Eddie.” Would he recognize the low hushed voice as seductive or as a line of bull? She had never been very good at seduction, or at least that was what Bruce had told her.
“Sure, of course.” He nodded, taking the hook.
“You probably didn’t even get a chance to look at the scene. You know, being stuck out here doing the real dirty work.”
“Oh, no. I got more than an eyeful.” He puffed out his chest as if he dealt with this sort of thing on a daily basis.
“The boy’s in pretty bad shape, huh?”
“Yeah, looks like the son of a bitch gutted him,” he whispered without a hint of emotion.
She felt the blood rush from her head. Her knees went weak. The boy was dead.
“Hey!” Gillick yelled, and she thought for a second he had discovered the deception. “Shut that camera off! Excuse me, Mrs. Hamilton.”
As Gillick snatched at Channel Nine’s camera, Christine retreated to her car. She sat with the door open, fanning herself with the empty notepad and taking in long breaths of the cool night air. Despite the chill, her blouse stuck to her.
Danny Alverez was dead, murdered. To quote Deputy Gillick, “gutted.”
She had her first big story, yet in the pit of her stomach the butterflies had turned into cockroaches.
CHAPTER 5
F rom a mile away, the pasture was lit up like a football stadium on game night. Christine stomped on the accelerator, weaving her car through the gravel.
Something big was definitely happening. The excitement fluttered in
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