Friday Edition, The by Betta Ferrendelli Read Free Book Online

times she had become aware of herself at the wheel of her car, staring at her apartment building, wondering how she had made it home alive. Relief would flood over her that she hadn’t hurt someone in an accident, or worse.
    Then there were times that she would wake up at home, often on the floor, and not know how she got there. She began to wonder lately how much longer she’d have her job at the Grandview Perspective . Only last week she was trying to write an article and couldn’t remember her source’s name. As if that wasn’t enough, she had filed the story only to have her editor send it back. She had the name of the company spelled two different ways. That’s what got her into trouble at the Denver Post .
    Sam ran through the examples in her mind with detached abandonment as she drove by the liquor store a few blocks from home. She didn’t stop. She turned on the radio. A button on the radio dial was programmed to her favorite oldies station. One of her sister’s favorite songs was playing. Sam’s gloomy mood brightened and she turned the volume up as loud as it would go. She smiled widely and began to sing along softly at first, her fingers tapping lightly against the steering wheel. Then she couldn’t help herself and began to sing louder. Before she knew it, she was snapping her fingers and singing at the top of her lungs. The song faded and Brady’s angry words came rushing back. They were deafening. She turned off the radio. Robin needed you.
    “I know she did, Brady, I know she did,” Sam said and her smile turned to tears and she did nothing to stop them from rolling down her cheeks.
    Sam pulled into the numbered slot behind her apartment building, switched off the lights and turned the key. The engine died. She sat still in the seat listening as the car settled. She remembered the graveyard shift she had spent once at the Denver Police Department’s emergency dispatch center. The endless calls for help; the constant, calm response from dispatchers: “911. What is your emergency?”
    Sam opened the car door, swung her legs out and stood up. “Robin,” she said as she shut the door, “what was your emergency?”

Nine
 
    Robin had been with the Truman County District Attorney’s office going on four years. When she first started as an assistant DA, she had given Sam the code to her office and a spare key. Tonight, both would come in handy. Sam felt as if sludge were moving through her veins as she drove to the DA’s office. It was after 9 p.m. when she steered her Mustang into the parking lot. Sam knew from what Robin had told her not long after she had started at the DA’s office that the security guard would be taking his cigarette break about that time. He would be in the employee smoking area, so the main lobby would be deserted. From her Mustang, she could see that the guard was gone and the lobby was empty.
    She got out of her car feeling as if Robin had been gone forever, not just a week. The raw wind did nothing to improve her spirits. She cursed the wind and hurried to the building. She punched the code in and let herself inside. She wore tennis shoes and hurried silently toward the elevators. She pressed the up arrow. A car arrived within seconds and Sam stepped inside. She punched the button, the floor number illuminated and the door slid shut. She checked her watch. It was 9:15 p.m. when she stepped from the elevator. She walked on cat’s feet toward Robin’s office. Despite the thick carpet the silence seemed to magnify every step she took.
    Robin’s office door was closed. Sam wrapped her hand around the knob, but hesitated. She took a deep breath and held it as she tried the door. It was unlocked. Quickly stepping inside, she allowed her eyes to adjust to the darkness. The air in the room was stale and Sam guessed that the office door had probably been closed all week.
    The blinds were drawn slightly. Sam saw that Robin’s desk was spotless and that her black leather chair