Killing Kate: A Novel (Riley Spartz Book 4) by Julie Kramer Read Free Book Online Page B

nearly 100,000 hits.” He kept his voice neutral, but I couldn’t imagine the station would be pleased. “I just wanted to warn you before you heard the news from someone else.”
    “Like Noreen?”
    “Yeah.”
    “Is she looking for me?”
    “Waiting for you.”
    “I’ll grab an early lunch.”
    Ozzie gave me the go-ahead because even if breaking news was lacking, we were still allowed to break for lunch. I actually didn’t feel like eating, but I couldn’t face my station colleagues just then. Most of the staff would be constantly refreshing their computer screens to keep track of my YouTube hits. Getting the newscasts on the air might be as challenging as when MTV firstcame along and instead of writing scripts, the news producers were glued to Billy Joel and Michael Jackson.
    I swung by Ed’s liquor store to see if he was facing any fallout from his gun wielding antics in the parking lot as we tried to save Buddy.
    “Nope, sweetie, most folks don’t know me, and those that do, well, it’s actually helping my reputation as a tough guy. Ain’t none of them going to mess with me, though I don’t ever expect to pull that trigger again.”
    If he’d seen my debacle covering Buddy’s death, he didn’t mention it, though he had heard that the dog didn’t survive and shared some harsh words about his owner not suitable for television audiences.
    “He had some similar things to say about me and the media when I tried to land an interview,” I said.
    Ed laughed. “Nothing you haven’t heard before on the job.” He reached under the counter. “Here’s something to improve your spirits.” He pulled out a case of Nordeast beer. “Found a few on the truck this morning.”
    I thanked Ed for watching out for me, and imagined how cheered Garnett would be to pop the cap off a cold bottle during his visit. Offhand, I couldn’t think of any movie quotes concerning beer, but I was sure he could.
    I still didn’t want to head back to Channel 3, so I parked near Lake of the Isles and looked out over the water, forcing myself to concentrate on pleasant matters in life. But for those of us in the news business, disagreeable issues come more naturally to mind. Plenty of Canada geese hobbled and honked along the shore, and some even approached my vehicle to hiss. I felt lectured by angry birds.
    My cell phone rang. It was Malik. “Turn on the radio.”
    Almost immediately, I wished I hadn’t.

CHAPTER 12
    T he host of the top-rated radio talk show in the Twin Cities was inviting listeners to call in and vote on whether my sobbing live on the air was “human” or “unprofessional.”
    He was urging people to view it on YouTube if they hadn’t been watching our news the night before, but for those without a computer handy, he gave a pretty vivid description and played the audio over the radio airwaves.
    “Those of you familiar with the local media scene will recognize Channel 3’s Riley Spartz as one tough news cookie. She can have bullets flying over her head and she won’t cry. So what’s up here? A couple days ago she covered a woman’s murder. No tears there. But now, bawling like a baby.”
    He opened the phone lines, and took the first call.
    “I was happy she showed some emotion,” an older-sounding woman said. “Sometimes I get the feeling that those reporters, they don’t really care about the stories they cover. For them, it’s just a paycheck.”
    “Yes, but this particular reporter has covered a lot of crime stories,” the host said. “And we haven’t seen her show such passion for those victims. Does a dog deserve tears more than, say, a missing child? Or a murdered babysitter?”
    “Well, you have a point there,” she conceded.
    He then took another call. “Very unprofessional,” a man said. “She must have been faking it for ratings.”
    “Interesting theory,” the host said. “Next caller.”
    “I wonder if she might have been on drugs,” a younger woman said. “Lots of times