Capital Offense

Jack ignored the voices of the men and women around him. Had he made the right decision to return to the United States and a safer way of living? Granted, he was sick of the loneliness and he wanted a family, but it wasn’t as if the love of his life waited for him. In fact, he hadn’t had a real date in six months.

“Hey. Rudly, what are you doin‘ here?”

Thoughts broken, Jack turned toward the voice of Sam Hutton, another reporter and an old friend. “Just getting a story like everybody else.”

“I thought you were off fightin‘ the brave fight as a foreign correspondent. You know, hardcore news, war zones, dictators, the real stuff. This seems a little tame for you. Who clipped your wings?”

At Jack’s glare. Sam burst out laughing, then said. “You don’t look like a happy camper, buddy. What’s the deal?”

“I’ve decided to focus on domestic issues and stick closer to home. I’m sick of having bullets whiz past my head.”

“Doesn’t sound like the Jack Rudly I know.”

Jack shrugged.

“So, the rumors are true. You left Associated Press and joined Today.”

“Don’t give me that rumor crap. Sam.” Jack broke into a smile. “You probably knew before I did that Today was going to make me an offer. Shit, with your sources, you probably know how much I make, and how many tax deductions I take.”

“I appreciate the compliment, but you give me too much credit. The question is… will you still talk with the rest of us now that you’ve hit the big time?”

Jack’s face grew red. “Knock it off, Sam.”

“All right, all right. How long have you been with them?”

“What’s today? November filth?”

“Yup.”

“One month exactly.” Jack said.

“And you’ve already rotated into the tight pool. I’m impressed.”

“Don’t be. Today was slotted for the spot.”

“Well. I suppose the rest of us can go home,” Sam said.

“Why? Afraid of the competition?”

“Damn right I am. Your reputation precedes you.”

SEVENTEEN

“I can’t. I can’t!” Sobs overtook Warner as he stared at the hole the bullet bored through the floor. He shoved the gun back into the safe, slammed the door, and leaned heavily against the wall.

Troopers, Harry Masterson and Sammy Kelly, burst into the room. “Are you all right sir?”

“Warner, what happened?” Carolyn ran through the doorway, fear and concern on her face.

“It was just an accident. Nothing serious. I need a drink,” Warner said. My God, he thought, I’m pathetic. I didn’t even have the balls to end the pain. “Where’s the bourbon?” He spun around and reached for a fifth on a nearby shelf.

“We heard a shot, sir,” Harry said.

“Shit, the bottle’s empty. There must be another one around here somewhere.” Warner waved them away.

Carolyn turned to Harry and Sammy. “You can go. It looks as if everything’s fine.”

Harry gave Carolyn a doubtful look.

“It’s fine, Harry. Just go. I want to talk to Warner alone.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Harry said, and the two of them departed.

“What’s going on?” Carolyn asked. “Why’d you have a gun out?”

Warner stared at her. There was so much he wanted to say. So much to apologize for, but the words wouldn’t come. They were stuck somewhere between his pride and his fear.

Silence hung between them.

Carolyn, her expression pained, turned and walked out of the room.

Warner watched her departure. He looked up at the bookshelves and old brown paneling that lined the walls of the study. At one end of the room was a novelty bar made from a globe. Warner walked over to it, then pressed a hidden button. The continents north of the equator lifted, exposing a hidden storage area for bottles of booze.

Warner poured himself a Jack Daniels, tossed it back, and felt the burning relief immediately. Hell, just holding the bottle in his hand made him feel better. He clutched it to his chest, like a life preserver destined to save him from the rough seas of years of rejection and isolation. He took several more hits off the bottle. A few minutes later, he floated into a zone of numbed confidence. He cared less about Edmund’s reactions, and grew self-assured regarding his relationship with Carolyn.

He set the precious bottle down, then mopped his face with the back of his sleeve. Thank God for good whiskey, he grinned.

He had to find Carolyn, had to reason with her. Her divorce announcement was ridiculous. She needed him. Her dreams of judicial and social reform were too important to her. Damn, he shouldn’t have let her leave the study without an explanation and an apology. He’d seen the concern on her face. She still loved him, he was sure of it. She’d give him a second chance, and together they would make things right. Shoulders back, head high, Warner forged his way down the hall of the mansion to her office.

Carolyn was on the phone when Warner walked in. “I’ll have to call you back,” she said, hanging up.

“Who was that?” Warner asked.

“Do you want something?” Carolyn countered, standing.