Tim Stevens.”
WTF?
What was the reporter trying to do, force her to talk to him by otherwise ruining her business? Holly was still staring at the sentence when a masculine voice said, “You checking out the story in the Tri-Cycle ?”
“What?” She gave Rick Stewert a startled look.
“The Tri-City Courier .”
Oh. Tri-Cycle. Baby reporters with training wheels. She nodded. “Yeah.”
The sandy-haired man lounging in her office doorway gestured at the newspaper. “Did they manage to get any of it right?”
“The part about finding Marcy by the Snake River is right. According to this, she was already dead—shot—when she went into the water. She didn’t drown.” A shudder rippled over Holly’s shoulders. Drowning topped her personal list of horrible ways to die.
A frown followed. Being shot probably ranked second.
“Marcy was a sweet girl. I’m gonna miss seeing her around. I feel bad for her family.” Rick dropped into the visitor chair. Her senior manager squirmed and grimaced. “This chair really sucks, you know?”
She’d known the guy since high school, so she grinned. “Makes people leave faster.”
“Is that a hint?” Laughter sparkled in Rick’s hazel eyes.
“Not yet.” She tapped a finger against the newspaper. “Of course, I’m not sure how accurate any of this is. According to the reporter, I’m still a Person of Interest.”
“Really?” Rick’s face mocked horror. “I’d hate to find out I worked for a felon.”
“Very funny. The article says they’re trying to locate the original crime scene.”
“Makes sense. Wherever Marcy was shot, there’ll be evidence. The cops probably talked to everyone upstream from Big Flats. Hopefully somebody will give them a lead.”
JC’s focus on the people around Marcy made more sense in that context. All the police had to go on was what they could learn from people who knew her. She bit her lip, uncomfortable she hadn’t been more help, but really, there wasn’t anything she could’ve added.
Then again, JC’s approach, asking about Tim and Alex the way he did, didn’t exactly inspire confidence. He’d seemed to start with the assumption the men were guilty. Maybe he was so used to dealing with people who casually broke the law, he’d forgotten not everybody did.
“Earth to Holly.”
She blinked.
Rick’s grin slowly faded. He stepped across the office and closed the door. “I need to talk to you.”
Uh-oh . Closed door equaled trouble. She scanned his face, running a quick catalog of possible issues. Another job offer. Staff problems. Please don’t let it be staff problems .
“What’s on your mind?” she asked.
He flexed his fingers, making a false start. His gaze roamed the office, but there weren’t many trinkets to distract him. Holly had packed up her father’s stuff when she moved into the office and hadn’t bothered to unpack her own belongings.
Rick leaned back and crossed an ankle over his knee. “How long are you here?”
She blinked again. How long was this conversation going to take? “I don’t have anything scheduled until late this afternoon.”
“No, I mean, how long are you going to stay? In Richland?”
“I don’t know exactly.” She couldn’t see her watch, so she didn’t know exactly when she planned to bolt for Seattle.
He drummed his fingers against his knee. “When your dad took off, I figured you came to help your mom.”
She nodded.
Rick dropped his foot to the floor and leaned forward, his shoulders a rigid line. “The way I see it, you’re running yourself ragged bringing in new business for one of two reasons.”
Wow. She’d hoped to avoid this conversation entirely. She forced her expression to stay neutral.
“Have your parents filed for divorce?”
She folded the newspaper and tucked the local section into her “Marcy” file, buying time. He may be a friend, but he was an employee. A key employee she needed to
WTF?
What was the reporter trying to do, force her to talk to him by otherwise ruining her business? Holly was still staring at the sentence when a masculine voice said, “You checking out the story in the Tri-Cycle ?”
“What?” She gave Rick Stewert a startled look.
“The Tri-City Courier .”
Oh. Tri-Cycle. Baby reporters with training wheels. She nodded. “Yeah.”
The sandy-haired man lounging in her office doorway gestured at the newspaper. “Did they manage to get any of it right?”
“The part about finding Marcy by the Snake River is right. According to this, she was already dead—shot—when she went into the water. She didn’t drown.” A shudder rippled over Holly’s shoulders. Drowning topped her personal list of horrible ways to die.
A frown followed. Being shot probably ranked second.
“Marcy was a sweet girl. I’m gonna miss seeing her around. I feel bad for her family.” Rick dropped into the visitor chair. Her senior manager squirmed and grimaced. “This chair really sucks, you know?”
She’d known the guy since high school, so she grinned. “Makes people leave faster.”
“Is that a hint?” Laughter sparkled in Rick’s hazel eyes.
“Not yet.” She tapped a finger against the newspaper. “Of course, I’m not sure how accurate any of this is. According to the reporter, I’m still a Person of Interest.”
“Really?” Rick’s face mocked horror. “I’d hate to find out I worked for a felon.”
“Very funny. The article says they’re trying to locate the original crime scene.”
“Makes sense. Wherever Marcy was shot, there’ll be evidence. The cops probably talked to everyone upstream from Big Flats. Hopefully somebody will give them a lead.”
JC’s focus on the people around Marcy made more sense in that context. All the police had to go on was what they could learn from people who knew her. She bit her lip, uncomfortable she hadn’t been more help, but really, there wasn’t anything she could’ve added.
Then again, JC’s approach, asking about Tim and Alex the way he did, didn’t exactly inspire confidence. He’d seemed to start with the assumption the men were guilty. Maybe he was so used to dealing with people who casually broke the law, he’d forgotten not everybody did.
“Earth to Holly.”
She blinked.
Rick’s grin slowly faded. He stepped across the office and closed the door. “I need to talk to you.”
Uh-oh . Closed door equaled trouble. She scanned his face, running a quick catalog of possible issues. Another job offer. Staff problems. Please don’t let it be staff problems .
“What’s on your mind?” she asked.
He flexed his fingers, making a false start. His gaze roamed the office, but there weren’t many trinkets to distract him. Holly had packed up her father’s stuff when she moved into the office and hadn’t bothered to unpack her own belongings.
Rick leaned back and crossed an ankle over his knee. “How long are you here?”
She blinked again. How long was this conversation going to take? “I don’t have anything scheduled until late this afternoon.”
“No, I mean, how long are you going to stay? In Richland?”
“I don’t know exactly.” She couldn’t see her watch, so she didn’t know exactly when she planned to bolt for Seattle.
He drummed his fingers against his knee. “When your dad took off, I figured you came to help your mom.”
She nodded.
Rick dropped his foot to the floor and leaned forward, his shoulders a rigid line. “The way I see it, you’re running yourself ragged bringing in new business for one of two reasons.”
Wow. She’d hoped to avoid this conversation entirely. She forced her expression to stay neutral.
“Have your parents filed for divorce?”
She folded the newspaper and tucked the local section into her “Marcy” file, buying time. He may be a friend, but he was an employee. A key employee she needed to
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