A Good Kind of Trouble (A Trouble in Twin Rivers Novel Book 1) (41 page)

Lindsey studied his face, chiseled in the glare of the harsh streetlight. Arguing would be futile, that expression told her, and his presence would be comforting. Especially since her hands were still trembling from the attack in the parking garage. Spider Barlowe had grabbed her so fast she hadn't had time to react before he shoved her into the back of the minivan. The minivan’s sliding backdoor had been locked so she’d climbed over the front seat and had been trying to open the passenger side door when Spider climbed in the driver's seat and wrestled her away from the door. Thank God, she had managed to get her pepper spray out of her bag.
 

As they hurried through the automatic doors, Ben paused and glanced over his shoulder. Lindsey followed his gaze and saw the black SUV crawl by, the tinted windows obscuring the driver from their view. Ben put a hand on her back and ushered her inside. Lindsey's stomach clenched with fear at the sight of the ominous vehicle. If Spider was working for Lonnie Corcoran, who was Lonnie Corcoran working for?
 

Chaos greeted them as they entered the newsroom. Lindsey had called Sam while simultaneously giving a statement to the police about the attempted abduction. The crowd parted to let Sam through as she headed to her desk.
 

"What the hell, Fox?" he yelled. Ben stepped between her and Sam, but she put a hand on his arm, understanding that Sam's bluster was out of concern.
 

"I'm fine. Ben will fill you in on what happened. I need to write this," she said, dropping her bag on the floor next to her desk, where Dani was sitting at Lindsey's computer. Dani stood and Lindsey took her seat.
 

"You're ready to go," Dani said. "I pulled up the bond story you did last week and freshened the dates so it can run as an explainer. Then I also reworked it as background for the story on the arrests."
 

Lindsey thanked the intern and flipped open her notebook to find the quotes from the mayor, the councilwoman, and the FBI agents. Then she got to work. Every once in a while, she glanced up to see Ben sitting at an empty desk about ten feet away, watching her. The sight of him there, protecting her even in the safe haven of the
Beacon
's newsroom, gave her a warm glow.
 

Reading through her article one last time, Lindsey became aware of someone standing behind her and saw the editor-in-chief, Margaret Tisdale, reading over her shoulder.
 

"Let me know when you've sent this to Sam," Margaret said, patting Lindsey on the shoulder. "I need to talk with you."
 

Twenty minutes later, and after more back and forth with Sam and the copy editor, Lindsey saw Sam wave at her and give her a thumbs up. It was done. The federal criminal case against two top city leaders, a warrant for the city attorney who remained at large, the allegations of bribery and corruption, the details of the bad bond deals—all of the drama from the city council meeting and all of the work she'd done in the last month was rolled into two long articles and one smaller sidebar and were heading to the press. Shorter versions were being uploaded to the newspaper's website. She leaned back and tilted her head back to loosen the tight muscles in her neck and shoulders.
 

With a sigh, she pushed away from the desk and looked around for Ben. He wasn't at the cubicle, so she headed toward the cafeteria to see if he went for coffee.
 

Margaret Tisdale stepped out of the elevator as Lindsey exited the newsroom.
 

"Lindsey!" The editor-in-chief trotted towards her, a smile on her face. "Nice job tonight. Do you have a minute?"
 

"Of course," Lindsey said.
 

They walked away from the newsroom door and stood at the railing of the walkway that overlooked the empty first-floor lobby.
 

"How are you holding up? From what Sam tells me, you've had quite the night."
 

"I'm fine, Ms. Tisdale," Lindsey said, then remembered the torn fabric on her shirt and the fact that she was standing barefoot in the
Beacon
building talking to her boss' boss. "I guess I should go find a pair of shoes."
 

Margaret smiled, then patted Lindsey's arm.
 

"I'm just glad that you're safe and that you weren't hurt by that man," she said. "You missed some excitement here, but nothing nearly as dangerous as what you went through. Though we did have some minor fireworks when Ms. Petrie's husband showed up this afternoon."
 

Lindsey nodded. "I heard a little bit about it from Sam."
 

"That's sort of what I need to talk to you about. I wanted to let you know what was going on with Ms. Petrie. After her sudden departure today, I asked the tech department to preserve her computer and phone records."

Lindsey's eyebrows rose, but she stayed quiet, unsure why the editor-in-chief was sharing this with her. Margaret cleared her throat and continued.
 

"It turns out that she was accessing other employees' voicemail messages and email accounts."
 

"Oh, my God," Lindsey said, remembering all the threatening messages on her voicemail that would vanish before she could get Sam to hear them.
 

"Actually, it was mostly your email and phone messages," Margaret said. "She was also snooping on the editorial board, but she checked your messages most frequently in the last few months. And with the board, she was only listening to messages. With your voicemail account, it appears she was actually deleting messages. Sam said that you'd gotten some threatening messages, but they disappeared before he could hear them."
 

Lindsey gripped the railing and bit her lip. At least she knew she wasn't going crazy.
 

"She was also emailing a couple people with your routine and whereabouts," Margaret said.
 

"What?" Lindsey’s mouth dropped and she blinked at Margaret. Had she heard that correctly?
 

"I'm really sorry, Lindsey," Margaret said. "I had no idea that she was obsessed with you."
 

"She wasn't obsessed with me," Lindsey said. "She was making sure I didn't know what she and Teri Schulman were up to."
 

Margaret raised an eyebrow and tilted her head. "I'm not sure I follow."
 

Lindsey rubbed her forehead, trying to absorb the latest twist.
 

"Lara Petrie was having an affair with Teri Schulman, the city attorney. They were scheming to buy up all that property around the arena site before it was announced, then they resold it at triple the price after the council made the public announcement. The property value would drop substantially if the bonds weren't approved. Or if I nailed down Teri Schulman's role in the property sales before they were able to flip the last property."
 

"Oh my God," Margaret breathed. "Do you have all that confirmed?"
 

Lindsey nodded. "Mostly."
 

"How much did they make flipping those properties?"

Lindsey hesitated, running the numbers in her head. "From the property records Dani Carter and I found, I'd estimate about three million dollars. Maybe a little more."
 

Margaret exhaled and rubbed her temple. Lindsey suspected she knew what the editor was thinking. It wasn't going to look good for the newspaper to be involved in the latest scandal. But Lindsey wasn't about to cover that up.
 

"This explains why she was trying to get on the editorial board. She was really putting the pressure on Franklin to support the plan," she said and then sighed. "Well, it is what it is. Warn me before that hits the front page, please?"
 

Lindsey gave the woman a sympathetic smile. Margaret shook her head and sighed again. “Your parents are going to be proud.”
 

Lindsey sucked in a breath. "You know my parents?"
 

Margaret smiled and gave Lindsey a conspiratorial wink. "Of course. I worked with West when I was just starting out. And your mother and I were both in Panama in 1989. I've never met anyone so tenacious," she said, shaking her head. "Well, until now."
 

"I didn't think anyone knew," Lindsey said, her stomach sinking.
 

"I doubt anyone else put it together," Margaret said. "But it's probably going to come out now. I hope you're okay with that."
 

She was right. The story had grown beyond municipal funding and now encompassed corruption as well as the stalking and intimidation of a reporter trying to uncover it. She'd become part of the story and any reporter worth a damn would discover the family connection to Liz Allen and Weston Fox.
 

"Yeah, I'm okay with that," she said, surprised that she actually was. There wasn't any running from it now.
 

"Good, because I intend to rub your father's nose in our superior reporting for quite some time," Margaret said with a grin.
 

"So, does that mean my job is safe?"
 

Margaret laughed. "You better believe it. Now get home and get some sleep. I expect you're going to be busy tomorrow."
 

Margaret started back toward the elevators just as Lindsey suddenly remembered something the editor had said earlier.
 

"Ms. Tisdale, wait," she said. "You said Ms. Petrie was emailing my schedule to two people. Who were they?"
 

Margaret paused. "One anonymous email address and to someone apparently named Spider."

Once again, Ben watched the newsroom in action, fascinated by the moving parts. It amazed him that a newspaper emerged out of the chaotic process.
 

Again, Lindsey was smack in the middle of it—remarkably cool under pressure, especially considering that she'd been assaulted and nearly kidnapped by Spider Barlowe. She was still barefoot, her shirt torn at the shoulder, and her hair came loose from her ponytail. She was concentrating on her computer screen with a furrowed brow.
 

She'd never been more beautiful.
 

He smiled at the thought of her pepper-spraying Spider Barlowe—twice. Why had he been so worried about coming to her rescue? She clearly could take care of herself. That didn't mean he didn't want to try, though.
 

He leaned back in the office chair, trying to get comfortable and felt his cell phone vibrate in his pocket. He pulled it out and saw Lyle's name on the screen.
 

"Hey, Lyle, what's up?"
 

The person on the other end gasped for breath.
 

"Lyle, you there?"
 

"I'm here." The man's voice was so low, Ben could barely hear him. He stood and glanced back at Lindsey, intent on the words on her screen. He walked outside of the main newsroom to the hall, where it was quieter.
 

"Are you all right?"
 

Another gasp. "I'm fine, just winded. I ran back to my car."
 

"Where are you?" Apprehension grew in his gut. He didn't know Lyle well, but he seemed to panic easily. On the other hand, he was right that armed men had been following him—just not the armed men he suspected.
 

"I saw something." Gasp. "When I left City Hall tonight."
 

"Was it the police in the parking garage? Because I know all about that," Ben said.
 

"No, I heard what happened, though," Lyle said. "This was after all that. I saw Ms. Schulman lurking about the building after everyone left."
 

Ben's interest and concern perked up. "The FBI has a warrant for her arrest. Is she still there?"
 

"No, she's gone."
 

Ben dug into his jacket pocket and felt for Matt Pritchard's business card. "I'll call the agent and let him know you saw her. What time was it and where was she?"
 

"About thirty minutes ago, outside the side exit," Lyle said, still panting.
 

"Okay, I'll let him know. It's probably too late for him to get someone there, but it may help them locate her."
 

"Oh, no, don't worry. I followed her."
 

Ben closed his eyes.
 

"You what?"
 

"I followed her when she left," Lyle said. "I'm watching the building where she went, but she hasn't come out yet."

"Shit," Ben said under his breath. "Lyle, tell me where you are. And do not approach her."
 

Lyle recited the address and Ben felt a chill run up his spine. Lonnie Corcoran's office.
 

"Stay in the car. I'm calling Agent Pritchard and I'm on my way."
 

Ben walked into the newsroom and saw Lindsey deep in discussion with Sam and an older woman, pointing to paragraphs on the computer. He hesitated, not wanting to interrupt her and then waved to Charlie, who was standing at the edge of the cubicle.
 

Charlie nodded and walked over.
 

"Hey, I've got to run out for a little bit. Can you do me a favor and keep an eye on Lindsey? Don't let her leave," he said. "I'll be back in thirty minutes."

Charlie's eyes narrowed and he gave Ben a conspiratorial nod. "You got it."
 

Ben dialed Matt Pritchard's cell phone as he jogged down the stairs to the lobby and left the
Beacon
building. The call went to voicemail, so he left his message and phone number, plus the address where Lyle was waiting.
 

On the drive to Lonnie Corcoran's office he dialed Jude, but got a voicemail message. After leaving another message, he punched in a third number.
 

"Gordo, you busy? I could use some backup," he said when his friend answered.

"I'm in," Gordo said, a little too eagerly. "But my car's in the shop. Can I ride my bike?"