The Mark

24

Paulina threw the copy down and eyed Wallace Langston. He picked it up, scanned it quickly and handed it back.

“I’m not going to run this.”

Paulina pursed her lips, that scowl she’d perfected over the years. The one that wordlessly said What’s the matter with you?

“Wally, forgive my insolence, but that’s bullshit. Every paper in this town is having a field day with us. Henry Parker is getting more ink than Blair and Frey combined. We’re talking murder, Wally. This isn’t some stupid plagiarism case we can ignore.”

“I know that.” Wallace looked and felt like hell. The last two days had been the longest of his professional life. He still couldn’t believe it, didn’t want to. Parker had such terrific potential. He was a reporter the Gazette could hang its hat on for decades. The talent and work ethic of a lion, the integrity of the very man he’d idolized. At least that’s what Wallace had thought. “But that editorial you wrote is pretty darn vicious. I know we need to report on the Parker search, but we don’t need to drive a stake in our own heart.”

“Our heart?” Paulina said, anger rising. “What heart? The kid is twenty-four years old. You know how many burnouts we’ve seen over the years? If Parker had never worked here, who would have known?”

“I would have,” Wallace said. “Jack would have.”

“Right…Jack.” Paulina’s voice quieted. “Funny, this whole thing started because of a story on Jack’s plate.”

“Don’t start, Paulina.”

“I’m just saying, guy’s old. Doesn’t have it all together. Who knows what his motives were for sending Henry into the field?”

“Right now I don’t know and I don’t care. But we’re going to handle this scandal like professionals. Period.”

She placed the editorial on Wallace’s desk again. “Then run my column. Be professional. Don’t avoid this. You talk about integrity? My article is the truth a lot of people are feeling. You can bury it, and admit that the Gazette takes shortcuts. Or you can print it. Let everyone know this paper isn’t afraid to hit hard.”

Wallace sighed. He read the piece again. Paulina had torn Henry Parker to pieces, and was now asking him to publicly scatter the ashes.

“Run it,” he said. “Tighten up the first graph. But it’ll be in the morning edition.”

Paulina smiled, thanked Wallace and left his office with an extra hop in her step.