Death of A High Maintenance Blonde (Jubilant Falls Series Book 5) by Debra Gaskill Page B

knew I’d been injured. They didn’t need to know more.
    How could I tell them on the eve of our second anniversary we’d argued and the next day, he was dead? How could I bring that up without depressing everyone in the room? Only Graham Kinnon seemed to understand why I never talked about it.
    “I’m not dating anyone .” I said sharply to Dennis and turned back to my phone. I punched in the fire department number again, this time getting through. “Hi, Chief, it’s Charisma…”
    The call was short—the chief had my numbers for me, which I plugged into the story. With another phone call to the Red Cross, I checked to see how many guests had taken the offer for a free night in the hotel and the story was done. With a few more computer strokes, I sent the story over to Dennis.
    “I’m going out to grab some coffee and breakfast. I’ll be back in about half an hour.”
    “Be careful.” Dennis pointed toward the television. “The vultures may still be out there.”
    I slipped down the stairs and into the newspaper’s front lobby. Jane’s desk was empty; the meeting with Addison was apparently still going on. Outside, the pie-faced boy reporter had his back to the front door, talking to two other reporters in front of the paper’s plate glass window. Maybe it was better if I left by the employee entrance near the pressroom, then walked through the employee parking lot and taking the long way around the block to Aunt Bea’s, the downtown diner just a few doors from my apartment.
    The pressroom, normally a hub of activity, was silent as well. They must be in on the meeting about Earlene’s arrest, too. I tried to be quiet as I slipped out the door, but the heavy metal door slammed.
    “Hey! Look! There’s someone coming out the door!” The three reporters and their cameramen came around the corner of the building. Instinctively, I turned to run.
    A man’s long thin arm grabbed me by my shoulders. I screamed as I was whirled around.
    It was Leland, drawing me into an embrace as the reporters circled us, firing off questions.
    “What do you know about Earlene Whitelaw’s arrest?”
    “Are you an employee here? What has the administration told you about the murder?”
    “Has the newspaper taken any official position on the publisher’s arrest?”
    Fear bubbled up inside me—I wanted to scratch my way out of Leland’s tight embrace, to scream, to run, to hide.
    “Ssshhh. Just go with me on this,” he whispered into my hair. He lifted his head and glared at the reporters. “Do you mind? My sister and I have just lost our mother and she was here to place the obituary.”
    “Then why didn’t you come out the front door?” The pie-face boy asked.
    “Because the staff inside knew you goons would do this. Give us a little private time, will ya?”
    I buried my face in his chest, hoping my tremors passed for a daughter’s grief.
    “We didn’t mean to intrude,” a female reporter said. “We’re sorry for your loss.”
    The group turned and walked back to the front of the building. When they turned the corner, Leland released me. I felt a surprising twinge of regret that his arms no longer encircled me.
    “You OK?” he asked.
    “Yes, thank you,” I whispered. I stepped back and brushed my hair from my eyes. “What were you doing back here?”
    “After you hung up on me, I walked over here, hoping I could talk to you. I saw the group at the door and figured there was no likelihood of you coming out the front door. I took a chance and walked back here, just as you opened the door.”
    “Well, you were right.” I twisted my hands together and sighed. “I was heading over to the diner for a cup of coffee. I guess I owe you one, now, huh?”
    “Then lets go get one.” Leland smiled.
    I looked into his blue eyes and nodded.

 
     
     
    Chapter 14 Addison
     
    After speaking with the remainder of the newspaper staff, I returned to my office to finish up today’s edition.
    The meeting with