The Good Die Twice by Lee Driver Page A

filled Sara
with pity for the young reporter. She wondered if Leyton Monroe had
a strict dress code. Worm seemed overdressed even for Sheila
Monroe’s gofer.
    They no sooner ordered than Worm began his
laundry list of questions. “So, Sara, where were you born? I’ve
always been interested in life on a reservation.”
    “And why is that?” Sara slowly stirred her
iced tea.
    “I don’t know for sure. Maybe it’s a
throwback from when I played cowboys and Indians. I always felt bad
for the Indians.” He blushed when Sara didn’t respond. “That was a
lame answer. I guess you hear that a lot.”
    A group of waiters and waitresses started
clapping and converged on a table where they presented a woman with
a cake. They led the group at the table in a rendition of Happy
Birthday. Sara was surprised when everyone in the room started to
sing.
    “Does this happen often?” Sara asked.
    “A lot of restaurants do it now. It’s really
kind of embarrassing.”
    Over lunch, Sara sprinkled the conversation
with vague answers to Worm’s questions. Yes, she grew up on a
reservation somewhere near the Canadian border but after her
parents died, Grandmother moved her to South Dakota, then
Wisconsin. They eventually settled in on the tiny reservation land
in Cedar Point her grandfather had owned. She told him she was
home-schooled. She soon turned the conversation to Worm, as Dagger
had suggested.
    “Did Sheila tell you about Rachel Tyler?”
    “About her being alive? Yeah. That was some
bombshell Dagger dropped on Mr. Tyler. Did he believe Dagger?”
    “No.” Sara swirled pasta around her fork. The
salad was crisp with a tangy Italian dressing. She especially liked
the black olives, something she had never eaten before until Dagger
started introducing her to different foods. “What was really
interesting,” Sara continued, “was that Sheila didn’t believe
him.”
    “Why is that interesting?” Worm pushed his
empty plate away and grabbed the dessert menu.
    “I had always heard she was such a great
reporter. I would have thought the entire concept of Rachel Tyler
being alive would have sparked her nose for news.”
    Worm laughed, placing the menu down and
settling back in his chair. “Sheila doesn’t like news stories where
she has to do a lot of legwork. She likes grunts like me to do the
work and she gets the by-line.”
    Sara set her plate to one side and watched a
group of high school-aged youths filter into the restaurant. She
found herself wondering what it would be like to feel part of a
group, to be able to shop with close female friends and share
laughs like this group was doing. These were things normal friends
did. But she had to remind herself, she wasn’t normal. When her
grandmother was alive, she had been the one to shore up Sara’s
confidence, to remind Sara that she was unique. And no matter what
she may have missed out on in life, she experienced more than
anyone could ever dream of. Now she had to find that strength
within.
    “Sara?” Worm touched her arm.
    Pulling her attention back to Rachel, Sara
said, “I’m sorry. I was just thinking that I can give you some of
the details and you can follow up on them, write the story, and
take the credit.”
    “Fat chance.” Worm leaned his elbows on the
table, his eyes darting around the restaurant. He leaned closer to
Sara and whispered, “Leyton Monroe will always make sure his
daughter gets the credit for everything. It’s a nowhere job. But
it’s the biggest newspaper in the city, owned by one of the richest
men in town who owns six additional newspapers across the
country.”
    “Is that so important?”
    “Is it important?” He laughed, settling back
in his chair again and digesting the significance of what Sara had
said. “Actually, no. I was always taught in school the most
important thing is the facts.”
    Sara placed a hand on his arm and peered into
his eyes. “Don’t tell Sheila you are working on the story. Write it
up and present