Her Last Summer: A Veronica Lee Thriller Page 12

  “Thanks, man…that means a lot coming from you.” Finn’s voice thickened, but his eyes were dry and bright as they met Hunter’s. “My dad respected your opinion. He always said you had a good eye.”

  Hunter’s throat tightened, and he spun around to hide the emotion in his face, looking toward the door.

  “Have you talked to Veronica this morning? I just got a call on a big story. I want you guys on the scene right away.”

  “Yeah, she said she was on her way.” Finn sounded excited. “We were gonna go back to the hotel this morning. Maybe get an interview with the hotel manager, or maybe a couple of the guests.”

  “Good, well as soon as she gets here you guys come into my office and I’ll give you the details. In the meantime, I’ll tell the team to work your segment into the noon broadcast.”

  Striding back into his office, he saw that Gracie had followed him in. She crossed to the window and stared out into the parking lot. Hunter followed her gaze.

  A big red Jeep had just pulled into an empty space. They both watched as Veronica jumped out, smoothed back her long dark hair, and slung her bag over her shoulder.

  Before she could walk toward the building, a white Mercedes rolled up and park beside her. Hunter frowned as he watched the driver open the door and step out.

  There was something familiar about the man’s dark, tousled hair and glasses, and he recognized the neatly-pressed khakis and long sleeved linen shirt.

  Thinking back to the segment Finn had just showed him, Hunter remembered seeing a glimpse of Julian Hart standing in the hotel lobby. Portia Hart’s devastated younger brother had quickly turned away, but the resemblance was unmistakable.

  Why is Julian Hart out there talking to Veronica, and what does he want?

  Hunter’s sense of unease returned as he watched Veronica. He was too far away to see the expression on her face, but her body language suggested she was tense, and that the conversation was strained.

  Resisting the urge to rush outside and intervene, Hunter forced himself to remain calm. His sudden instinct to protect Veronica disturbed him.

  He couldn’t let himself get too emotionally involved with his staff, although he knew it was common for people working together in stressful environments to associate their heightened emotions with their co-workers.

  And he couldn’t think of any situation more stressful than the last time Veronica had gotten too involved in a story. She’d cornered a serial killer and had ended up as his hostage.

  Hunter’s pulse raced as he remembered the night he’d had to face Boyd Faraday. Luckily, he’d managed to outsmart the killer, and Veronica’s life had been spared.

  But it had been a close call, and Hunter couldn’t help worrying that the next time she chased down a killer to get a story, she might not be so lucky.

  Of course, Julian Hart wasn’t a deranged stalker. He was a grieving brother. A rich, handsome artist with a sensitive side. Perhaps that’s just what Veronica needed. She certainly deserved to be happy.

  As he watched Veronica reach out a gentle hand and rest it on Julian’s arm, Hunter told himself she was only trying to console the guy. That was the kind of person she was.

  Her compassion was one of the main reasons he admired her. And it wasn’t any of his business in any case. It shouldn’t matter to him who she spoke to.

  Then why does the sight of her touching Julian Hart make me want to put my fist through this window?

  Forcing his eyes away from the scene outside, Hunter knelt next to Gracie’s warm, solid body and rubbed her soft fur. He breathed in deeply, then let out a slow exhale. He couldn’t let himself slide backward.

  Not after all the progress he’d made in the last few months. His therapy sessions with Reggie Horn had been going well, and he’d managed to wean himself off his medication.

  A sudden fear washed over him. What if his lack of medication was making him relapse? Perhaps he didn’t have as much control over his PTSD as he’d imagined.

  “I can’t go back there, Gracie,” he murmured, staring into the Labrador’s deep brown eyes. “I can’t lose myself again.”

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  Veronica dropped her bag on her desk, seemingly lost in thought.

  “Hey, you got my message, right?” Hunter asked as he walked toward her. “About the homicide over on Kingston?”

  She stopped short and stared up at him blankly.

  “I guess that means you didn’t.”

  Finn appeared beside them carrying a camera case. His rucksack was already over his shoulder. He looked ready to roll.

  “You ready to go, Veronica? I just saw that Channel Six is already on the scene. Your buddy Nick Sargent must live in his van.”

  Smiling at her confused expression, Finn headed toward the door.

  “I’ll fill you in on the way to the scene. Now let’s get moving.”

  He turned back to Hunter and laughed.

  “I think Gracie wants to stay here with you.”

  Hunter glanced down to see that Gracie had settled in by his feet. She looked up at him with contented eyes and yawned. When he raised his head Finn and Veronica were halfway to the door.

  “Wait!”

  Everyone on the news crew turned to look at Hunter as Veronica and Finn jerked to a stop. The word had come out louder than he’d intended. Seeing the startled and expectant faces all around him, Hunter couldn’t bring himself to say what needed to be said.

  He wanted to tell Veronica and the rest of the crew about the station’s impending sale, but he had to pick the right time.

  Blurting out the situation in the midst of two breaking stories would make it seem more dire than it actually was. He’d have to wait until things had calmed down.

  “What did Julian Hart want?” He hadn’t known he was going to ask the question until it came out of his mouth. “I saw him outside.”

  “He agreed to an interview,” Veronica replied, not sounding very happy. “And he apologized for overreacting last night.”

  Raising his eyebrows, Hunter tried to mask his surprise.

  “That’s good. You’ve managed to get a real scoop then.”

  “Yeah, I guess so,” Veronica agreed. “We’re supposed to meet up later this afternoon. Hopefully he won’t change his mind.”

  Finn walked to the door and pulled it open.

  “Let’s go, Ronnie.”

  Veronica stopped in mid-stride and put her hands on her hips.

  “Who told you to call me that? Only my mother calls me Ronnie.”

  “I’m a reporter,” Finn said, holding open the door. “I can find out just about anything if I’m motivated.”

  Rolling her eyes, she hurried out the door. Hunter watched it swing shut behind her, then looked down at Gracie and sighed.

  “You know what, girl? I kind of wish I was going with them.”

  He headed back to his office picturing the chaotic scene he’d worked the day before.

  It had been good to be back in action. It’d felt right, somehow. He thought of Veronica and Finn racing toward another dramatic scene and felt the old thrill. That jolt of adrenaline he used to experience when he’d first started out as a reporter.

  Maybe I can find what I lost in Kabul. Maybe it isn’t over for me after all.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Knowing the temperature inside the locked van would be unbearable, Finn started the engine and let the air conditioner run while he loaded up the camera and grip gear. Veronica leaned against the door and pulled her notebook out of her bag. She wanted to make a few notes about her conversation with Julian Hart before she was pulled into another story.

  The unexpected arrival of Portia Hart’s brother had rattled her, and she’d been concerned by his disheveled appearance.

  He was obviously having a hard time dealing with his sister’s death, and Veronica suspected he was pretty much alone in the world, now that Portia was gone.

  Veronica had tried to apologize for not telling him s
he was a reporter as soon as they’d started talking the day before, but Julian had stopped her. He’d seemed embarrassed that he’d stormed out in a huff. And he’d thank her for not using the footage on Channel Ten’s late night or early morning broadcast.

  As she waited for the van to cool off, Veronica replayed his words.

  When my face wasn’t on the news, I kind of hoped I’d been wrong. That you hadn’t talked to me just to get a story. That I might be able to trust you.

  His words had been spoken with such earnest sincerity that she’d reached out and laid a hand on his shirt-sleeve. She now wondered about the impulsive gesture. At the time it had felt like the right thing to do. He was alone and hurting, and she had offered comfort.

  But now Veronica wondered if she was allowing herself to get too emotionally invested in Julian Hart’s story. Shouldn’t she keep an objective distance so that she could report the facts without her own feelings skewing them?

  “You coming or what?”

  Looking up from her notebook, Veronica saw that Finn was already sitting in the driver’s seat. He’d rolled down the passenger window and was staring at her with wide, impatient eyes.

  “Oh, yeah, sorry.”

  She opened the door and climbed in.

  “I was just making some notes to reference later.”

  Finn navigated the big van out of the station’s parking lot and onto Townsend Road, then turned to look at her.

  “What did Julian Hart want? You guys seemed to be having a pretty intense conversation.”

  “I’m surprised you have to ask,” she snapped. “I thought you already knew everything about everything.”

  Her tone was defensive, although she wasn’t sure why she felt as if she had something to hide.

  Oh, you know why, Veronica. You’re hoping to hear the rest of Julian’s story. You think he’s going to share all his family secrets with you.

  But she couldn’t tell that to Finn. Or to anyone. Julian had confessed that Portia’s life wasn’t as perfect as her book had portrayed to the rest of the world. But he’d done so off the record.

  Veronica thought back to his tortured admission.

  There are things no one knows, and I…I need to find out the truth. I need closure. Will you help me find it? Off the record?

  While she hadn’t committed to anything, Veronica had agreed to meet Julian later. Now she was wondering if that had been a mistake. Perhaps she should have told him bluntly that her job was to report on the story, not to get involved in the story.

  She forced herself to close her notebook. She had another breaking story that needed her attention; further thoughts about Julian Hart and his sad blue eyes would have to wait.

  “Okay, so where are we going and what’s the big story?”

  She looked out the window as Finn turned toward downtown.

  “A woman’s body was found this morning at a house on Kingston Road. She was attacked and killed in her own backyard. They found her floating in the jacuzzi.”

  Jerking her head around, Veronica gaped at Finn.

  “Another woman is dead? It’s only been twenty-four hours since Portia Hart’s body was discovered.”

  Finn nodded just as the automated voice from the GPS told him to turn right onto Bay Street. He swung the van around a corner and narrowly missed hitting two teenagers who were crossing the intersection on bicycles.

  “Yeah, and this time there’s a witness.”

  He sounded excited.

  “We’ll probably get a description or even a sketch of the killer.”

  The street was blocked off to through traffic, and a line of cars dutifully waited in the sweltering sun as a uniformed officer waved them onward toward a detour sign. Veronica recognized Officer Andy Ford’s freckled face.

  “Let me out here,” Veronica ordered, her hand already on the door handle. “I’ll ask Andy to let us through.”

  Jumping down from the van, Veronica approached the policeman with a friendly smile.

  “Hey, Andy, how’s it going?”

  The young policeman’s anxious face softened into a smile when he saw Veronica. He waved several cars toward the detour sign as he called out a greeting.

  “How’s your mother doing?’

  Trickles of sweat dripped down Andy’s face as Veronica stopped in front of him.

  “She still keeping the kids in line over at Willow Bay High?”

  Veronica nodded, suddenly glad that her mother was the principal of the town’s main high school. Most people who’d graduated from Willow Bay High in the last two decades knew Ling Lee. It could open certain doors for Veronica when she was pursuing a story.

  “Yeah, she’s still got them all running scared,” Veronica teased.

  “Oh, no. She doesn’t need to scare anybody,” Andy protested, as if he felt obligated to defend his old principal. “The school’s part of my patrol area. It’s easy to see that everybody still loves your mom, Veronica. Just like when I was there.”

  “Thanks, Andy. I’ll be sure to tell her you said hello.”

  Veronica pointed back at the van.

  “But, in the meantime, you wouldn’t mind letting us through the barrier, would you, Andy? I think there are other crews already on the scene.”

  Andy nodded and glanced back over his shoulder. The satellite dish on top of a white van was visible past the stop sign.

  “Channel Six got here first,” he said. “Nick Sargent arrived a few minutes after we pulled up. It took the rest of his team a bit longer.”

  Pushing the barricade to the side, Andy waved the Channel Ten van through. He caught sight of Finn’s face through the windshield.

  “You got a new guy on your crew?”

  “Yep, that’s Finn Jordan. He started as our new cameraman yesterday, but he already acts like he’s in charge.”

  Veronica climbed back into the van. As Finn drove past Andy onto Kingston Road, she extended a grateful thumbs up.

  But her cheerful expression melted when she saw that Nick Sargent was in the middle of a live feed and that Gustavo was working the camera.

  “Park next to the them.” Veronica looked at her watch. “We’ll have to set up the feed right away to be ready by noon.”

  As she stepped out of the van, her attention was captured by Nick Sargent’s solemn voice. He spoke directly into the camera.

  “A local woman was killed today by an assailant who is still on the run. No official word yet on the name of the victim, but neighbors tell us that the house behind me, located at 5025 Kingston Road, is owned by local resident Molly Blair.”

  Astonished that Nick had once again revealed the name of a victim before official identification and next-of-kin notifications had been performed, Veronica cast a withering glare at the newsman.

  Looks like some reporters will do anything for a story.

  Pushing back a pang of guilt at the thought, Veronica tried to focus on her notes, but she was unable to block out Nick’s deep voice.

  “Sources in the WBPD tell us that the woman’s body was found floating in the hot tub, and that another woman was at the scene and may have witnessed the crime.”

  Nick paused to look down at a slip of paper in his hand, as if he’d just been handed a last minute update. It was a tactic Veronica had seen the Channel Six reporter often use to add drama to his reports.

  “And now, just in, we are hearing speculation that this morning’s homicide may have a connection to the death of Portia Hart yesterday at the Riverview Hotel. The celebrity author was found dead in her luxury suite only blocks away.”

  The words sent a cold shiver down Veronica’s spine despite the soaring temperature. The idea that some maniac was going around Willow Bay drowning women was ludicrous. Wasn’t it?

  “You think Portia Hart’s death could really be related to this homicide?” she asked Finn as he appeared beside her. “I mean…what would an ordinary woman living in this quiet neighborhood have in common with a super-rich celebrity like Por
tia Hart?”

  Finn shrugged and raised the camera.

  “That’s what we’ve gotta find out,” he snipped. “That’s why it’s called investigative reporting. Now get ready to go on air. We’re running out of time.”

  A high-pitched chime filled the air, causing Veronica to start and reach frantically into her pocket to silence the phone.

  “Sorry, I thought it was on silent,” she muttered to Finn. “It’s my mother calling. She probably just saw the Channel Six report.”

  “Well, answer it!” Finn demanded, sounding indignant. “It’s your mom. You don’t just ignore your mom.”

  Frowning at Finn’s outburst, Veronica tapped on the display and held the phone to her ear.

  “Hi, Ma. I’m at a scene and about to go on air.”

  “I know where you are,” Ling responded matter-of-factly. “I can see your location on the Find My Phone app you installed.”

  Her calm demeanor slipped as she continued.

  “Why else do you think I’m calling? I see my daughter is at the scene of a murder, and the assailant is still on the loose. What should I do? Wait for the police to call and tell me you’ve been hurt again?”

  “I’m not going to get hurt, Ma. The police are all over. In fact, I can see Andy Ford right now. He said to tell you hello.”

  Ling sniffed and Veronica could picture her mother’s expression.

  “Andy Ford is a nice boy, but he can’t protect you if you’re running around trying to interview a deranged killer. You’ll get yourself-”

  “Ma, I’m not interviewing killers. I’m reporting on the situation so the public knows what’s going on and people can protect themselves. It’s a big responsibility.”

  Sighing, Ling’s voice lost its fight.

  “But who’s going to protect you, Ronnie, when you’re fulfilling this responsibility? And who’s going to take care of Winston if something happens to you?”

  The thought of the old, orange Tabby brought a smile to Veronica’s face. She knew her mother was trying to use Winston to guilt her, but she’d only managed to make her more determined.