Set Up For Love (18 page)

She calculated her options. He was holding all the cards at the moment, but she looked forward to watching him fold on the next deal.

Jill drew the newspaper out of her purse and slammed it into his chest. “As if you didn’t know.” She couldn’t help herself. His phony innocent look had obliterated her professional cool.

“I don’t know, yet,” he said. “But I’d never give away anything that would help the killer elude capture. Someone must’ve hacked the computers and subverted the
Chronicle’s
editorial process. I wouldn’t, and my editor wouldn’t, have any part in a printing a story like this.”

“I know journalists thrive on sensationalism, but this is irresponsible reporting.”

“Dammit, Grayson. You’re not listening. This isn’t the story I turned in. I haven’t printed a word that would compromise your case. I told you, you can trust me. Why can’t you believe that?”

She wanted to, with all of her heart. “Because you’ll say anything, do anything, to get what you want.”

Dane patted the journal. “What’s in here could be the break we both need and I’m itching to read it from cover to cover right now.”

“Why are you telling me things I already know?”

“Because trust is mutual or it’s nothing. Here, you take the journal. I’ll meet you for cocktails at Jimmy’s at four this afternoon. We’ll go over the entries then.”

She measured his strong, handsome face. “You’re going to let me take it?” It had to be a trick.

“That’s what trust is all about, Jill.”

She hesitated. After pumping herself up to believe he’d betrayed her she was finding it difficult to switch gears. “All right,” she said finally. “But meet me at my apartment. I have appointments and there won’t be time to drive back into town by four.” Besides, she thought, after Ray’s order to stay away from Dane it wasn’t wise to see him in public.

“First, I’m going back to the
Chronicle
and find out who changed my copy and why. Second, I’m getting him canned. Then I’m going to pull in some favors.” He leaned over and roughly slammed the passenger door.

“Favors?” But he couldn’t hear her. Jill stepped back as he burned rubber leaving the parking space. She knew what it cost him to surrender the journal.
Why did he do it?

Chapter Twenty-Six

Unable to wait, the minute Jill settled behind her steering wheel, she skimmed the journal, scanning page upon page of Charmaine’s life. She glanced at her watch. Reading all this would take more time than she could spare at the moment. She couldn’t be late for her appointment with Professor Craig Mansell.

On her way to Mansell’s office, Jill stopped at the university print shop. She wanted her own copy of the journal. As much as she wanted to trust Dane, she couldn’t.

Jill returned to her car, deep in thought about her appointment with the professor. She needed to know a great deal more about him. Especially after seeing his name repeatedly in her cursory review of Charmaine’s journal.

She slowed for a bump, then returned to her normal speed along the tree-lined road that threaded through the university. Just around the next bend was the location where they’d found the latest victim. The serene beauty of the grounds was a contrast to the evil that had touched it. Jill’s throat felt tight.

Ahead was the vine-covered building where the professor’s office was located. Mansell could be mixed up in all this. The police weren’t able to match his footprints with those found outside her window, but it was the professor who’d had the matches from the Jester’s Motel. And the last murder site was less than a quarter of a mile from his office. If guilty, she had to unnerve the man and trick him into giving himself away.

Although early for her appointment, the professor’s secretary showed her in immediately. He was behind his desk, looking wary. Just like last time, he wore all brown. If he believed dressing in autumn shades helped him to blend into the mahogany decor, he was mistaken. His features were too handsome, and his tall, lean build too striking.

She took a seat in a chair in front of his desk and flipped open her I.D. case. Hiding her identity was no longer useful.

“Now it all clicks,” the professor said. “You looked familiar because you’re Tess’ sister. Why hasn’t she been to class? Has something happened to her?”

“She did modeling and commercials. But Dane knew all that. He did some layouts with her. It seems you and he have something in common. You both hid your professional identities.”

“I’m sorry about my part in the deception, but it was necessary.”

She listened carefully to Mansell’s voice, trying to detect any speech patterns linking him with her evil caller. She couldn’t be sure.

“How well do you know the students who share the video studio with you?”

“We’re all video buffs. The friendship was based primarily on that interest.” He shook his head “It’s hard to accept that one of my top students might have murdered Charmaine.”

Jill tucked her hair behind her ear. “Which one is making Snuff Videos?”

Mansell’s face paled. It was clear the word
Snuff
had unnerved him. “I beg your pardon?”

Mansell’s blinking seemed excessive. He stroked his beard with trembling fingers and leaned back in his chair. “Tell me what you really want from me, Ms. Grayson, a signed confession?”

“Only if you’re Charmaine’s killer. Are you?” He was clever enough.

“I most certainly am not.” He slammed the files before him closed and abruptly stood. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a class.” He marched from the room without another word.

She couldn’t tell if his reaction was the result of indignation or guilt.

Jill left Mansell’s office in a quick, frustrated gait. She hadn’t succeeded in making him give himself away. Was that because he wasn’t the video killer? Or was he just too clever?

She grabbed a bottle of orange juice from a vending machine and drank it on her way. She was eager to get home to review the journal more closely before Dane got there.

Ray would never believe Dane didn’t write that story. She was having trouble believing it herself. She was risking her job by continuing to work with him. She shook her head. None of this made sense. Why did the person who wrote the story provoke the FBI, and why would he give away clues? If not Dane, it had to be Sammy. But what was his motivation?

****

Dane by-passed the elevator and took the stairs to the
Chronicle
newsroom on the run. Sammy wasn’t anywhere in the building, so Dane charged straight into the office of the managing editor.

“The Snuff Video story has been a hot potato from the start,” the editor growled, ignoring his comment. “Any idea when it’s going to break?”

The editor rubbed his broad nose. “It’s only a guess, but I’d suspect jealousy. The man was eaten with it. He wanted to be a crack reporter like you. But even if he worked at it for a lifetime, he never could. He didn’t have it.”

Even after Dane was back at his desk, he couldn’t stop mulling over the turn of events. Getting information would be more difficult now. He shook his head. Something didn’t add up. Sammy had destroyed his own career. A damned good career. It was a stretch, but maybe the backstabbing Judas was involved in the murders.

Dane dialed into the newspaper’s telephone online database modem main one-hundred and did a background check on Sammy. Before the afternoon was over he had run a thorough check on Sammy’s references. Personnel had checked him out before he was hired. They’d been concerned about his erratic job history. But somehow he’d managed to explain his wanderlust to their satisfaction. With lives at stake, Dane had to dig deeper.

Dane logged into a database that contained juvenile crimes. Names were withheld, but he knew how to get around that. He dug deeper, checking out primary and high school records.

Well, this was interesting. Sammy had spent some of his youth in a psychiatric hospital and later in juvenile hall. His redheaded assistant had a volatile history no one had suspected. Maybe that was why his actions didn’t add up—he was nuts. But he needed more to tag Sammy a killer.

He tried to match the dates of the murders with Sammy’s times off. All but the Utah killings fit. He needed to see the coroner’s reports.

Dane scrolled through several screens filled with information about video businesses, crimes, and advertisements. One caught his eye. The direct mailing ad for Dark Videos just might be a code for the deadly Snuff Videos. The address was a Vegas post office box. It was worth checking out. He scribbled the address into his pocket memo book.

Dane leaned back in his chair and stretched. He was counting on Charmaine’s journal for new information. Giving it to Jill had been a desperate show of faith. He hoped the gamble wasn’t a mistake.

He sighed. The only good thing about this case was Jill. She stuck in his mind like taffy, but not because she was so sweet. Feisty was a better word. Still, since she’d charged like gangbusters into his life, he hadn’t been able to keep her out of his thoughts, his heart.

His life was too erratic to get involved with someone like her, someone special enough to marry. And his job was too important, too much a part of him to consider giving it up. But dammit, he wanted Jill like he’d never wanted any woman before.

He squared his shoulders. It wasn’t safe to allow her to invade his thoughts. The countdown on his story had started and he had to beat it.

Dane got busy again on the telephone, calling in favors from snitches who rubbed elbows with porn and underworld people. He jotted down the updated list they gave him of possible taping sites and his snitch, Cooty, gave him a line on buyers of porn and violence. None of his sources could verify a direct connection between the Dark Videos ad and snuff videos, but he wasn’t giving up. He filed the possible lead in his mind as well as in his pocket memo book, knowing that later the scrap of information could become a trail. It never paid to discard anything in his business.

Later, as he sped toward Jill’s house, he couldn’t wait to share what he had with her, couldn’t wait to see her. And if he was lucky, hold her in his arms.

****

As Jill entered her house, the phone rang and she ran to answer it.

“Glad I caught you.” It was Tess’ roommate on the line. “I just received our telephone bill,” she said. “The long distance calls to a Las Vegas number aren’t mine. They must be Tess’.” She took a hurried breath and rushed on. “I...I thought maybe they were important.”

“Good girl,” Jill said, taking down the information.

When Jill checked with the telephone company, she discovered the number was for a video outlet. She hung up and quickly thumbed through several pages of Charmaine’s journal, recalling she’d seen a Vegas address in it. Her breath caught. There it was on page five—and the telephone number matched the one on Tess’ bill.

Jill heard Dane’s car roar into the driveway. Her heart pounded. She hadn’t realized until now how she’d rushed through the afternoon, willing the hours to pass quickly so she could see him again.

She could hardly wait to tell him what she’d found out and to learn who wrote the news story and why. But Dane might have written the news story himself. There was no proof he hadn’t. Just his word. The word of a renegade newsman who would do anything for a story. Risking her job and the FBI’s reputation for a man she didn’t completely trust made absolutely no sense. Her boss had warned her to end it with Dane, and the smart thing would be to do what he said. Hadn’t she put up with him this long only because she believed he could help her find Tess? He’d disappointed her in that too. Now that she had the journal she didn’t need him. Yet he’d willingly given it to her. Was his show of faith a trick, or could she trust him?