Full Tilt

27

New York City

Kate scrolled through news stories on her phone while sitting in the upholstered chair in the reception room of her daughter’s dentist.

Still no confirmation out of Rampart on the ID of the remains.

Kate bit her lip to push away the fear.

It had been a day since she’d returned and in that time, between pursuing leads, she’d reconnected with her home life. While she’d only been away a couple of nights, it felt longer. Getting Grace to today’s appointment gave her a sense of being a mom again.

Holding Grace’s jacket in her lap, she traced the little hearts that were on the cuffs, thinking how lucky she was to have her. Grace was her rock, her anchor. She’d kept Kate sane through the years, just by being a kid.

Grace was practically the same age that Vanessa was when the accident happened. She even looked a little like her. Kate smiled and lifted her face to the opposite wall, which was plastered with snapshots of children showing mostly gap-toothed grins.

The display was called “Smiling Angels,” and it propelled Kate back to: her mother setting down a tray of fresh-baked chocolate-chip cookies, the kitchen smelling so yummy. “You can each have one, girls. I don’t want you getting cavities.” She and Vanessa each took one but split a second cookie when Mom wasn’t looking…Vanessa laughing so hard.

Kate suddenly thought of dental records and human remains.

“Hi, Mom!” Grace appeared, clutching her new free toothbrush, floss and toothpaste. “No cavities!”

“That’s great, sweetie!”

“Mom, were you crying?” Grace tugged on her jacket as Kate helped.

“No, just a little tired from the plane.” She blinked. “Let’s get you back to school.”

After taking Grace to school and signing her in, Kate got on the subway to Penn Station, then walked to Newslead. At her desk she again scanned the latest stories out of Rampart, checking to see if her competition had broken anything on Carl Nelson.

Nothing had surfaced.

The first message she checked was from Chuck.

Find something today to advance the story, keep us out front.

I’m working on it, Chuck.

Kate was still checking her messages when a new one arrived from Reeka.

Could you please come to my office?

Reeka had her face in her phone, texting, when Kate tapped softly on her open door. She’d noticed how small Reeka seemed behind her desk, as if it, or her position, was oversize for her.

“Please sit down.” Reeka kept her face in her phone. Kate saw that the flat-screen TV in the corner was frozen on footage of the Rampart case. “So…” Reeka exhaled and put the phone down. “How’d things go for you?”

“Okay.” Kate was guarded. “Considering everything.”

“And how’re you holding up, considering everything?”

“I’m okay.”

“Your stories are solid.”

“Thanks.” Kate remained wary, the way a mongoose is wary of a cobra.

“But you do have the inside track.”

“Excuse me?”

“I wanted to show you something.” Reeka played the footage of Kate being interviewed at Rampart, then froze it. “You’re aware of Newslead policy about reporters giving interviews to other press?”

“Yes.”

“Reporters don’t comment on the news without prior permission from a supervising editor. It’s decided on a case-by-case basis. You needed prior permission.”

“Reeka, what is this? You do know what this story’s about? You’re aware of what was agreed to in my covering the case with Chuck, Morris and Ben Sussman? You were part of it. I’ve been digging my ass off. You’re aware of what I’m going through here, and how my ‘inside track,’ as you call it, my personal anguish, is being exploited by Newslead?”

“Of course. And I couldn’t begin to imagine the heartache you’re enduring, but I have to keep in mind what happened in London. That situation eroded our credibility and our integrity. I have to insure we do things by the book, Kate.”

“This is not the same thing as what happened in London, Reeka, and you know that.”

A knock sounded at the door and both women turned to see Sussman standing at it.

“There you are, Kate. I just wanted to say pickup rates on this story are sky-high. We understand how hard this must be personally for you, Kate. We’re all praying for you, so whatever you need, you let us know.”

“Thank you, Ben.”

“Be assured, Newslead’s behind you. By the way, I’ve heard through the grapevine Good Morning America and the Today show, are showing interest in having you on soon. So let’s see how things go.”

After Sussman left, Kate turned to Reeka.

“I’d like to get back to work.”

Kate detoured to the restroom to check her face and contend with the corporate hypocrisy. We’re all praying for you. A few days ago they all wanted me fired. If I didn’t love the job here-if Chuck didn’t have my back I’d-calm down. Just calm down and stop thinking about yourself.

Back in the newsroom, Kate was struck with an idea.

She went to the business section and the desk of Hugh Davidson, who reported on computer technology. Hugh was otherwise known as Newslead’s Emperor Nerd. He was partial to bow ties and pastel shirts.

“Hey, Hugh, got a sec? I need your help.”

He swiveled in his chair, crossed his arms.

“Shoot, Kate. I got five minutes before I have to go talk to some Apple honchos.”

“You’ve written about hackers and the best of the best out there.”

“That’s correct. Nice that you’re familiar with my work.”

“You’ve got contacts in hackerdom, or whatever it’s called.”

“Correct.”

“You know about my situation?”

“Yes, I also read your work.”

“Do you think you could put me in touch with some of your hacker friends? I want to write a deep bio on Carl Nelson.”

Hugh touched one finger to his lips.

“I do know of some entities in the cyber mists who’re remarkably skilled and would be up to the challenge.”

Kate’s cell phone rang.

“Great. I’ve got to take this, Hugh.”

“I’ll put some feelers out there and get back to you.”

Kate’s phone rang a second time.

“Thanks, Hugh. Kate Page,” she said into her phone.

“Hello. This is Will Goodsill in Denver. I got a call from a cousin who said you were trying to reach me.”

“Yes, Will, thanks for calling. This concerns a story you wrote fifteen years ago for the Denver Star-Times, about a missing Canadian girl.”

“So you said in your message. I looked you up and your current work. You’re looking for a connection to Alberta, Denver and New York?”

“Exactly, yes.” Kate was impressed. “Can you help me?”

“I’m a hoarder of files and notebooks, but we had some flooding a few years back, so I can’t say if I’ve still got everything from that time. I remember that story, and I did some digging on it myself. I’ll have to look to see if it survived and get back to you, Kate.”