I sighed. “I’ll try not to go more than seven.”
“It’s fine. My meeting can wait.”
I held the phone out and squinted at it. His meeting could wait? Had I dialed the wrong number? “I’m supposed to meet a
Morning News
reporter in about an hour. Her name is Katie Parst. Do you know her?” I let go of my toes and pushed myself to my feet. A woman with biceps bigger than my thighs dropped to her back on the mat next to me. She started doing crunches at a furious pace, emitting something between a moan and a growl each time she came up.
“Are you jogging or something? You sound out of breath.”
“I’m at the fitness club.” I took a few steps away from crunch lady and lowered my voice. “There’s a woman here who’s trying to work off the steroid shake she had for breakfast. You’re probably hearing her roaring. I’m not quite that dedicated.”
He laughed. “Nevertheless, you’re making me feel guilty. I just ate a sausage biscuit from McDonald’s.”
“Why do you think I do this? You’ve seen me eat.”
“Now that you mention it, I have seen you eat. You must have some great genes to put away food like that and stay as svelte as you are.”
“Was that a compliment? It sounded like a roundabout way to say that I eat like a horse.”
“There’s no upside for me on this subject, so let’s get back to the point of your call. You were talking about Katie Parst?”
“Yeah, do you know her?”
“Best reporter at the paper, as far as I’m concerned. Does that help?”
“It depends on what you mean by best reporter.”
“She’s honest, gets her facts straight, and if you tell her something’s off the record, you can be sure you won’t see it in print. For reporters, that’s the trifecta.”
I walked over to the hamstring machine and lay on my stomach on the bench. “Well, well. Is there more to this story about you and Ms. Parst?” I pulled the weights up with my legs and tried not to groan.
“She’s married and she’s about fifteen years older than I am, so knock it off. She is very attractive, though, since you mention it. Why does she want to talk to you?”
“I can’t tell you yet.” I clenched my jaw and did ten more reps with my legs.
“Okay, wait a minute. You call me and ask for my advice, and then you won’t tell me why? You disappoint me. I didn’t think there were any secrets between us.”
I pushed myself up and sat on the bench. “My life is an open book, but it’s not my secret to tell.” By that time I was panting.
“What are you doing now, splitting logs?”
“Actually, I’m making my legs firm and fine.”
“Well, from what I can see, you’ve been doing a great job. Keep up the good work. By the way, Katie Parst’s got a lot of guts. She’s been doing some stories knocking around the periphery of what appears to be an organized crime ring in Dallas. A lot of reporters would have avoided that one and gone on to something a little less risky. I know the Dallas police have asked her to share some of her info with them.”
I stood up and toweled sweat off the back of my neck. “Interesting. Hey, I’ve got to run if I’m going to make my meeting with her. Thanks for the info.”
Before I could click the phone off, he said, “Wait a minute. When are you and Kacey going shooting again?”
“We’ll be there Tuesday at seven o’clock. She’s getting good, isn’t she?”
“She’s amazing. Last time I saw her over there she nearly beat me. You’d better watch it. She’ll be in your league before long.” I heard the computer keys clicking. “I’m calendaring it right now. Seven o’clock sharp. I’ll see you there, as long as I can get out of here early enough.”
“Michael, you work too hard.”
“I always make time for you and Kacey.”
“And we appreciate it.”
When I hung up, I reran the conversation in my head.
I didn’t think we had any secrets between us . . . I always have time for you and Kacey.
Every once in a while I caught myself wondering . . .
Nah, couldn’t be.
As I walked to the locker room, I tried to envision Michael and I sitting in a dark room in front of a fireplace. It just didn’t work. And it wasn’t the racial thing—at least, I didn’t think it was. How could a person really know? He was just such an Eagle Scout. Of course, my tendency to pick the bad boys hadn’t exactly worked well for me to this point in my life. Maybe a responsible type was what I needed.
I shook my head. Even if it were, it would never be Michael Harrison. There was a difference between responsible and neurotically responsible. I would have enough trouble with the former. I could never deal with the latter.
After I pulled off my workout clothes, I wrapped myself in a towel and sat on the bench in front of my locker. It was a weekday morning, so there were only a couple of other women in the locker room. I decided to call Kacey before I got in the shower.
I caught her on her way to her economics class. “I just got a call from a reporter at the
Morning News.
She knew about the missing money. She wants to talk. What do you think? I told her I’d meet with her, but I can still cancel. I checked her out with Michael. He thinks highly of her.”
“That depends,” Kacey said. “What did she tell you?”
I stretched one leg out on the bench and massaged my calf. “Nothing much. Just that she heard some money was missing and that she’s been investigating an extortion ring in Dallas. I’m sure she’s wondering if the two are connected.”
“How did she know about the missing money?”
“I was thinking about that. Only a handful of people knew about it: your father, Elise, you, me, and your father’s accountant, Brandon. We know you didn’t tell, and we know I didn’t tell, and we know your father didn’t tell. It’s a safe bet that Elise didn’t, since she was the one taking the money.”
“That leaves Brandon, but why would he talk to the
Morning News?
By the way, where are you? Do I hear water running?”
“I’m in the locker room at the fitness club. I’m getting ready to take a shower.” I stood up and slid my feet into my flip-flops. Just as I was about to shut my locker door, I stopped. “Wait a minute. The Lewisville cops knew, remember?”
“You’re right. That’s where she found out. It has to be. Good old Officer Ferrell. What a charmer he was.”
I closed the locker and spun the dial on the combination lock. “Well, if she already knows about the money, the story’s going to be out soon anyway. Since she’s been investigating an extortion ring, I thought she might have some information that could help us figure out who was blackmailing your dad.”
“I agree. I don’t see any big reason not to talk to her.”
“I’ll do my best to get more information out of her than she gets out of me. I’ve got to go if I’m going to make it to our meeting.”
“Okay. Give me a call when you’re finished.”
I realized I had closed my locker without putting my phone and earpiece in it, so I had to open the door again and drop them into my shoe. Then I closed the door and headed toward the shower. Once in the shower, as the warm spray hit my face and I massaged shampoo into my hair, I worked through the issues that Katie Parst would likely want to discuss.
Since she was investigating an extortion ring, she must have a suspicion that the ring was somehow connected to the money missing from Simon’s ministry. That made some sense. Simon was a world-famous guy with a secret. What Kacey and I knew, though—and what Katie Parst didn’t—was that Elise Hovden had taken the money, not Simon. That would be a great disappointment to Parst, if I decided to tell her at all.
As I stepped out of the shower, I thought that this meeting should be okay. After all, Katie Parst was the one who had most of the information, not me. All I had to do was drink my coffee, ask some questions, and listen. I smiled.
For once I was going to have a pleasant meeting with a reporter.
CHAPTER
TEN
IT WAS 10:05 WHEN I walked into Starbucks. Coming from the cool December air into the warmth of the shop was the olfactory equivalent of sticking my head in a bag of coffee beans. I felt as if I’d gotten a caffeine jolt from merely breathing. I scanned the room and spotted Katie Parst in the back corner, sitting with her back to one of the floor-to-ceiling windows that encased three sides of the cafe.
Michael was correct. She was a pretty woman. Even though she was sitting, it was obvious she took good care of herself. Her auburn hair was darker and straighter than mine, and cut shorter, above the shoulder. Hard to believe Michael was right about her age. She looked ten years younger than the fiftyish description he gave. She sipped iced tea from a straw. When she saw me, she smiled and waved.
I went to the counter and ordered a grande drip. After paying and taking a sip, I headed over to the table. Parst stood and brushed crumbs from her navy wool pants. She took a quick look down at her pale yellow blouse and seemed relieved that she hadn’t spilled on it, too. She was still chewing her last bite when she held her hand out across the small, round table. “Sorry, I didn’t have time to eat breakfast at home, and I’m really making a mess. This stupid muffin crumbled all over the place. I’m Katie Parst.”
“What did you have?”
“Blueberry. It was good. I usually don’t spill my food all over me, though. Honest.”
Anybody who could make a mess of her meal and laugh about it was someone I could relate to. I had to be careful. I was beginning to like her. “Listen,” I said, “you never have to make excuses for how you eat around me. I’m not the most graceful sometimes. In fact, I may get one of those in a minute. My workout made me hungry.”
“You know, I’ve admired you from a distance for quite a while.”
“Just my luck. I work out to attract men, not women.”
She laughed. “I meant that I’ve admired your work. Although whatever you’re doing, I’d keep it up. You look great.”
“It’s been an active year.”
She shook her head. “I’ll say. I don’t know anybody else who’s led a raid on a terrorist hideout this year.”
“An unsuccessful raid. And I wasn’t the leader until everybody else got shot.” That sounded so amped up that I was embarrassed. “Actually, the guys I was with were real pros. They just let me come along because I was the only one who could positively ID Simon.” From habit, I moved around her and took the seat at the far side of the table, where I could see both of the doors.
She sat across from me and rested an arm on the table. “I’m sorry about Reverend Mason. I understand you were close.”
“He was sort of like a father . . . or big brother.” I waved a hand in the air. “To tell you the truth, I still don’t know how to describe our relationship. I guess you said it best. We were close. He was a great man.”
“How is his daughter doing? You’re living with her at the Mason house?”
“She seems to be handling everything remarkably well. I mean, if you think I’ve had an extraordinary year, just think about what Kacey’s gone through. She’s an amazing girl.”
“I remember her from the press conference at the hospital after the kidnapping. She was poised beyond her years.”
I sipped my coffee. “I worry about her—that she’s holding everything in. That’s the way she is.” I immediately wondered why I was sharing thoughts like that with this stranger. A reporter, at that. I had to watch myself.
“I imagine she’s had to grow up in a hurry,” she said. “It’s a shame. She should be enjoying college. She’s at Southern Methodist, right?”
“That’s right, SMU. A sophomore.”
She smiled. “Good gosh, when I was a sophomore in college, my biggest worry was whether so-and-so would ask me to the football dance.”
I couldn’t see any upside in making Kacey part of this conversation, so I decided to change the subject. I pointed to Parst’s iced tea. “A little chilly out for that, isn’t it?”
“I know. My husband thinks I’m crazy. I drink this stuff the year round; the colder the better.” She gave her clear plastic cup a shake. “I don’t like coffee. This is how I get my caffeine.”
I held up my cup. “Well, here’s to caffeine.” I took a sip. “What does your husband do?”
“He was general counsel for Challenger Airlines for years. A few years ago he moved into the U.S. Attorney’s office. Now he’s a prosecutor. Sort of a midlife change of focus.”
“A lawyer in the family, huh? That must come in handy in the journalism business.”
“Not really. He’s always more worried about my safety than about the story. If it were up to him, I’d be covering fashion shows and Easter egg hunts.”
“I wouldn’t complain. It sounds like you married a good one.”
“Yeah, I did.” She leaned back in her chair. “So, how did you end up working for Simon Mason, anyway? I mean, I know from the newspapers that you were with the Secret Service, but I’ve never heard how you and Reverend Mason connected.”
“When I quit the Service, I came back to Dallas and started my own security agency. In March Simon called me out of the blue. I’d never met him. He told me he’d received terrorist threats. He said that a church member had recommended me to him. It wasn’t until later that I found out—” I caught myself and took another drink.