River's Edge (11 page)

B
lair got to Cricket’s an hour before church the next morning and took a booth in case Cade joined her. After breakfast, she would walk across to the Church on the Dock that met in the old warehouse. Her parents had planted the church years ago, and after they died, Jonathan stepped into the role of pastor. Blair had only returned to its pews last month after staying away for years. Now the act of worship was something she looked forward to.

She wondered if Cade would even have time to come by this morning, much less worship, with the investigation still in its infant stages. She hoped he’d rested his leg and gotten some sleep last night.

She was on her second cup of coffee when he came in. He looked exhausted, but his eyes lit up with that contagious light that made her see herself in a new way.

“I can’t stay,” he told her as he slipped in across from her.

“I know. You look tired. Did your leg keep you up?”

“Among other things.” His grin brought the heat rushing to her face. “Listen, I wanted to talk to you about what you’re writing.”

“Okay.”

“Paper comes out Tuesday, right? I want you to mention that the police department has a tip line and that we’re waiting to hear from anyone who may have seen Lisa’s car Friday. We especially want to know if someone else was driving it.”

“You got it. I’ll put it on the front page.”

He pulled an index card out of his pocket. It had the number on it.

She took her notepad out of her bag. “So, where’s the car?”

“We moved it to the crime lab in Savannah. Forensics is going through it.”

“And the autopsy?”

“They’ll be doing it tomorrow. I plan to be there when they do.”

“You’ll update me, won’t you? I don’t want to put the paper to bed tomorrow night until I’ve got the latest info.”

“You know I’ll tell you what I can.”

“Coffee, Cade?” the Colonel called from the bar.

“Yeah, a tall one to go, Colonel.”

Blair leaned on the table, fixing her eyes on Cade. “So, tell me about Carson Graham.”

Cade laced his fingers in front of his face. “That’s the other thing I wanted to talk to you about. I meant to bring it up last night, but…I got sidetracked.”

She looked down at her coffee and moved her stirring stick around. Should she joke about last night or pretend it hadn’t happened? Feeling awkward, she chose the latter. “Weird, huh? How do you think he knew?”

“Good question.”

“He told Rani he’d helped the police before. Is that true?”

“The guy’s a pest,” Cade said. “Apparently he gave Chief Baxter some no-brainer tips before I was here and claimed credit for solving those crimes. We’re talking vague stuff, nothing specific.
Anybody could have come up with the same tips if you just gave it a little thought.”

The Colonel brought Cade’s coffee, and Cade busied himself adding sugar and cream. “He tries to get involved on every major crime. Even when your parents were killed, he had some cocka-mamy story about who he thought did it based on some vision he’d had. None of it panned out.”

“But he was right on the money this time. I mean, don’t you find that bizarre? You can’t seriously attribute that to luck.”

Cade sipped his coffee. “What
can
you attribute it to, Blair?”

Blair thought it over for a moment. “Maybe God? Maybe God’s speaking to him. Or even through him.”

“God doesn’t use psychics.”

“But what about the spiritual gift of prophesy? Isn’t that the same thing?”

“Not at all.” He sipped through the plastic top. “The Bible forbids us to go to psychics. Psychics and sorcerers and those who do what the Bible calls
divination
are an abomination to God.”

Blair didn’t remember seeing that in the Bible. “Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure. Pull up that Bible program of yours and do a search. You’ll see.”

“So you’re saying that if a psychic can’t be of God, then he must be of Satan?”

Cade shook his head. “I’m not even sure it’s that spiritual. I mean, think about it. Half of what they predict is based on common sense and probable outcome. When a woman says that her husband all of a sudden wants a divorce, that he’s been staying out all night, it’s kind of a no-brainer to suggest that he might be having an affair. Based on that probable outcome, the so-called psychic makes a prediction. And
voilà,
it turns out to be true. That doesn’t mean he has any special powers.”

Blair leaned back, processing that. “But what about the cases where they are specific and turn out to be right?”

“Well, even if they did have
some
power, if the Bible forbids it, then it can’t be of God.”

Blair wasn’t sure she could attribute it to Satan, either. Carson Graham didn’t seem evil. She would have to look that up on her own and see what the Bible really said.

“Just do me a favor, Blair. When you write about him, please don’t make it sound like he cracked the case. Every desperate person in town will be lining up for a reading from him. We both know that’s not where they’re going to find answers.”

“I’ll only report what happened, Cade. Just the facts.”

B
lair didn’t hear from Cade again that day, and by Monday, she knew he was probably working on the investigation around the clock. She spent the day interviewing people about the murder, trying to find out if Ben indeed had a mistress. She continued to trace the rumor back to its origin, but hadn’t reached it yet.

Sadie came after school to help her lay out the paper. When she had to go home to study for exams, Blair stayed at the office, proofing every article one more time.

Finally satisfied that it was ready, she kicked her shoes off and padded in her sock feet back to the printing room to start the presses. The person who had owned the newspaper before her only had a weekly edition. Ever since Blair took over, there was too much news to settle on once a week, so she’d put out an edition each Tuesday and Friday. That meant that Monday and Thursday nights she got little sleep. In the past few weeks, as more subscriptions had sold, she’d been able to draw more from the wire services and news syndicates. She’d also
occasionally paid a few stringers, who brought in stories that interested them, and Sadie, who was gifted in both journalism and photography.

The mayoral race kept things going strong. Blair even got a lot of comments from islanders that they’d canceled their subscriptions to the
Savannah Morning News
since her paper seemed to have everything they needed to keep them up-to-date.

She got the printer started. Maybe she should sell the equipment and start hiring an outside printing company to do this part of her job. But then she couldn’t make changes at the last moment, and she needed that flexibility.

It would be several hours before the newspaper would be printed, and then she’d have to bundle the stacks and have them ready for the paperboys who would report at 5:00 a.m.

She pulled one of the front pages off the printer. She hoped Cade wasn’t upset by the headline: “Psychic Leads Police to Body.” There were two pictures on the front, one of Lisa Jackson and the other a photo of Carson Graham that Blair had pulled from his website. She had tried rewording the headline, but she couldn’t tell the story of police finding the body until she told how they knew it was there. It was headline material, and all the other papers were reporting it as such.

She had to keep the integrity of her paper by giving the readers all of the facts. They expected it of her, after all. Surely Cade wouldn’t find fault with that.

L
isa Jackson Found Dead
—
Husband’s Footprint Found at Crime Scene.”

Cade stared at the headline of the
Observer,
the national tabloid whose weekly issue had come out that morning. How had Vince Barr known about the shoe print?

He grabbed his cane, got up, and, waving the paper, went into the squad room. “I want to know who leaked this, and I want to know
now
!”

Billy Caldwell rose from his desk. “What, Chief?”

“‘
Husband’s Footprint Found at Crime Scene’
! Who told this reporter that?”

Alex Johnson and McCormick emerged from the interview room, and Sarah, the dispatcher, looked up at him with wide eyes. “I didn’t even know about it, Chief.”

Cade swung around to Johnson and McCormick. “I want to know who did it so I can personally end his career in law enforcement and arrest him for interfering with an investigation.”

“Whoa, Chief.” McCormick held out his hands, as if calming a bucking horse. “You don’t know it was one of us. It could have been one of the borrowed investigators. There were enough people working the scene.”

Cade flung the paper across the room. “We don’t even know for sure that it was Ben’s shoes that made those prints! And here they are publishing it in a national tabloid!” He grabbed the paper back up and saw the articles further down the front page.
“Local Psychic Helps Police Find Body.”
Carson Graham’s picture had a place almost as prominent as Ben’s or Lisa’s.

When he turned to page two, his heart felt as if it would slam right through his chest, alien-style. Pictures of Lisa’s dead, wet body, slumped in that car dripping with seaweed, filled half the page. He ripped the page in two and flung both halves down. “This is all we need. A media circus making Lisa Jackson into a freak show and Ben into a homicidal maniac.” He pointed to the cops in front of him. “No one talks to the media about this case, do you hear me?” His staff nodded, and he turned to Sarah. “Get on the radio and tell every one of my men that. No one talks to the media—or they lose their job. No second chances. Tell them I’m not playing.”

He went back into his office and sank back into his chair. The phone was ringing, and no one out there was answering it. It was probably a reporter. He felt like ripping the cord out of the wall and throwing it across the room.

He leaned his elbows up on the desk and looked down at today’s copy of the
Cape Refuge Journal,
which had also come out this morning. Its headline was almost as bad as the
Observer’
s.

“Psychic Leads Police to Body.”

As if on cue, Alex stuck his head around the door. “Uh, Chief, Blair’s here to see you.”

Great.
He’d been wanting to talk to her, too. “Send her in.”

Blair bolted in, looking like she hadn’t yet been to bed. “Cade, I just saw Vince Barr’s article. Why didn’t you tell me about the footprint?”

“Because it’s not public information, Blair! I don’t know who told him, but when I find out, somebody’s gonna lose their job! Barr’s reporting of it was irresponsible.”

Blair sank into a chair. “And that surprises you? That a tabloid would be irresponsible?”

“Speaking of irresponsible…” Cade got up, came around his desk, and closed his door. He picked up the
Cape Refuge Journal.
“What do you call this?”

She grunted. “The edition I stayed up all night to get out. What’s wrong?”

“It’s the headline that’s wrong!” He flung the paper back down. “You gave this psychic undue credence, Blair. I asked you not to!”

“Cade, you asked me not to make him a hero, and I didn’t. Did you even read the article?”

“I didn’t have to. The headline says it all.”

“No, it doesn’t. The article explains what happened. Cade, if I didn’t report it, I’d be the only one. The
Savannah Morning News
reported it Sunday.”

“But our residents expect more from you. They expect accuracy. For you to back up what they said just makes it look true. You could have found another angle.
‘Police Find Body in River’
would have been fine, but that’s not sensational enough.”

Blair got up and faced him squarely. “Okay, is that it? That you didn’t get credit?”

That did it. He felt as if his body was going to implode right there. “It’s not about credit, Blair,” he said through his teeth. “It’s about the fact that my job is already pretty much on the line. If anybody but Jonathan makes mayor, I’m out of here. How do you think it makes me look to be taking advice from some two-bit con artist?”

“You didn’t take his advice. You followed up on a lead. You were doing your job, and that’s what I wrote!” She picked up the paper and shook it out. “Here—” she poked her finger at a paragraph—“right here, I said that you were skeptical about the lead, but when you followed up you saw evidence that a car may have
gone in the river. The fact is that you would not have seen the tire tracks if it hadn’t been for Carson Graham. That’s all I said. I have to do my job, Cade, just like you have to do yours. You can’t expect me to hedge on the facts. I put your tip line on the front page. I quoted you and told how you’d gotten others in from different departments to help with the search. You’re the real hero here.”

“I’m not trying to be the hero!” He grabbed the paper out of her hands and stuffed it into the trash can. “I’m trying to solve a murder! It’s not about me. It’s about an innocent woman who was strangled to death in our town. But you and Vince Barr and all those other reporters have made it a freak show, with Carson Graham as the star. Giving away key bits of evidence that no one but the police were supposed to know—”

“Then it’s true about the footprints?”

“I don’t believe this.” She was still playing reporter, using their argument as another chance to get a scoop. Chewing his lip, he went back to his desk, trying to calm his anger. Slowly, he lowered back into his chair. “This interview is over, Blair. I have nothing more to say.”

The anger on her face matched his as she bent over his desk. “It’s not an interview, Cade, and you know it. I just asked you a question. I’m not Vince Barr. I’m not the one who printed pictures of her corpse, so you can stop taking it out on me.”

“I’m not taking it out on you.”

“I bought that paper so that I could report the news in this community with integrity and intelligence. I use my Christian principles in deciding what goes into that paper, and you know it. I don’t appreciate your implications that I’m irresponsible or opportunistic.”

He wondered if his own face was as red as her scars. “Christian principles, huh? Then tell me why you would help that fly-by-night fortune-teller elevate his name. I’m absolutely amazed that you spent so many years dissecting Christianity because it didn’t make sense to you, but you’re accepting that guy’s claims
without a second thought. Did you read what the Bible says about guys like him, Blair, or did you just blow that off?”

She straightened. “I’ve been busy, just like you have. Are you questioning my Christianity?”

“I’m questioning your knowledge of the Bible. If you knew what it said about psychics, you wouldn’t be giving this guy a standing ovation.”

The words hit dead-on. “You act like I’ve joined a cult or something. I just wrote an article. And it’s not a big surprise that I’m not as well versed in the Bible as you are when I’ve only been a Christian for a month! But none of that has anything to do with my reporting the facts. He told you where she was. That’s all there is.”

“How did he
know
?” Cade wanted to hit something, but he knew the raised voices were already giving his men enough to talk about. Blasted paper-thin walls. They’d probably heard every single word. Whose idea was it to turn a laundromat into a police station, anyway? “Did you ever question that, Blair? How did this so-called psychic know where she was?”

Her face changed. “So you think he was involved in her death?”

He couldn’t believe that had come out of his mouth. He needed some sleep, some Advil for his aching leg…and while he was at it, a resolution to this murder case. He took in a long, deep breath and lowered his voice. “I don’t know, Blair. All I know is that God didn’t give him a vision. But when his show packs in more people this week than the churches packed in Sunday, you can pat yourself on the back for advancing the cause of the crackpots.”

He got up, came around the desk, and opened the door. “Now I’ve got work to do.”

He stormed past the officers at their desks, pretending to be busy as if they hadn’t heard the exchange. Pushing out the front door, he went to his truck and got in.

Blair was coming out as he backed up and pulled out of the parking lot. He was more determined than ever to find the killer and solve the puzzle of Carson Graham’s involvement before this whole thing got out of hand.