Dark Light by Randy Wayne White Read Free Book Online Page B

then, what job was perfect? Perhaps she felt at home here because her colleagues in the newsroom, from Runtley on down, were also misfits in their own way. Certainly none of them had started out looking forward to careers as tabloid reporters. They had all landed at the Curtain after erratic and eccentric paths.
    Together they faced the disdain of their colleagues in the mainstream media and shared stories about their perennially embarrassed families. Where does your daughter work? Oh, she’s a journalist? What newspaper? The Curtain ? Isn’t that one of those sleazy tabloids ?
    She sat back in her chair. “I warned Fontana that I wouldn’t be able to fool you, sir.”
    Runtley leaned farther over the desk. Even though there was no one around to hear him, he lowered his usually booming voice to a low rumble. “This sudden decision to sign an MC with Fontana is connected to your investigation of the Guild’s cover-up of the alien lab, isn’t it?”
    â€œYes, sir. He wants my help in the investigation. I’m asking you to trust me.”
    â€œNot a problem.” Runtley’s eyes glittered with the familiar feverish excitement that always came over him when the prospect of a real scoop involving the Guilds or alien relics arose. “Are you sure you can trust Fontana?”
    She thought about that, checking in again with her intuition. “Not exactly. He’s keeping secrets. But he agrees that there is some sort of conspiracy within the Guild and that it is linked to the juice dealing and maybe to the disappearances. I believe him when he says he wants to get to the bottom of whatever is going on.”
    â€œHuh.” Runtley did not bother to conceal his skepticism.
    She looked at Elvis. He was sitting on the corner of her desk, munching on the peanut butter and banana sandwich she had made him. The coffee mug the newsroom staff had presented to him a few weeks ago was nearby. It featured a photo of an ancient Earth singing icon. The name Elvis was spelled out in glow-in-the-dark letters.
    â€œElvis liked Fontana,” she said. “He’s a pretty good judge of character.”
    â€œForget the bunny. I don’t give diddly-squat about what he thinks. What about you? You’re the one with the mega-rez intuition. What was your take on Fontana?”
    She hesitated. Runtley was one of the very few people who knew about her odd talent and actually believed in it. Like the others in her family who possessed various unusual paranormal abilities that did not depend on amber, she had learned long ago not to confide in others. When she did try to talk about her intuition, she usually got one of two unpleasant reactions. Most people simply didn’t believe her and laughed off the claim. Such cases could prove socially awkward but not particularly devastating.
    It was those in the second group—the people who actually believed her—whom she had to watch out for. They frequently concluded that she could be useful. What business executive, stockbroker, or gambler couldn’t use an assistant or, better yet, a wife endowed with extremely accurate intuitive talents? She had learned her lesson with Jonathan Pemberley. She had no intention of repeating it.
    She had never actually told Runtley that her intuitive powers were off the charts or that she didn’t need amber to access them, but he had guessed the truth during her interview. She strongly suspected that his own intuition was well above normal.
    â€œI didn’t get any bad vibes from Fontana,” she said. “I wouldn’t have even considered this MC if I had.”
    â€œBut he’s a Guild boss. What’s more, judging by what you just told me, he took out Jenner.”
    â€œI didn’t say Fontana wouldn’t be dangerous under some circumstances; I just said I think I’ll be safe with him. At least for the moment.” She moved one hand in a small gesture. “He