Risking Trust (10 page)

Saturday morning the newspapers were where they were supposed to be. Roxann stared at the navy blazer she’d tossed across the arm of her office sofa. Most of the employees were off, so she’d opted for the more casual mode of tan dress slacks, a white shirt and the blazer.

Wearing business clothes on Saturday had to be a crime, but wearing jeans wouldn’t do when trying to prove her leadership skills to the men on her staff. She wondered what they thought of their lady publisher right now. The good ole boy network still existed at the
Banner
and the older staff members had moments when they all but snickered at her. They’d have to adjust.

The phone buzzed. “The rep from the press company is here,” Mrs. Mackey said. “And Phil is looking for you. He said to call him on his cell.”

“Got it. I need to talk to him anyway. Send the Franklin Press guy in and please ask John to join us. Did I say thank you for coming in on your day off?”

“Three times,” Mrs. Mackey said. “Now get back to work.”

The presses had been down twenty-four hours. The production staff, after a mind boggling day, built the pages and electronically transferred them over to the
Chronicle
for printing. All in all, the transfer went smoothly.

Roxann had gone home at midnight after receiving the call that the pressrun had been completed. She was back by 6:00 a.m. to monitor activity on the customer service lines. By six-thirty, they were getting slammed with complaint calls because they’d missed the late scores and news from the previous night.

Anticipating that, she’d made sure the website had been updated, but the non-internet users didn’t want to hear it. She stood to retrieve her jacket and silently asked for a bone to be thrown her way.

A young geeky guy, maybe late twenties, dressed in an oversized business suit entered the office and introduced himself as Charlie Rhodes.

John came in behind Charlie and Roxann motioned for them to sit. “What do you have for us, Charlie? Can we get running today?”

Charlie pushed his sandy blond hair from his eyes and cleared his throat. Did she detect a bit of squirming? That meant trouble.

“No ma’am. Not today.”

She snapped her jaw shut.
Control.
She needed it.
Start at the toes, tighten, tighten.

“What the hell happened down there?” John wanted to know. “Maintenance said they checked the bar day before yesterday and it was good to go.”

Charlie stretched his neck. “It appears someone loosened it.”

The jolt of his words forced the air from Roxann’s lungs and she let out a whooshing breath. Why didn’t he just shoot her between the eyes and end the misery? “Someone deliberately did this?”

“Appears so,” he said.

John looked whiter than a snowy day. “How? When?
Who?
”

“We’ll get to that later,” she said, understanding his outrage. She turned back to Charlie. “How quickly can the parts be replaced?”

He squirmed again.

“That’s a problem.”

“Why?”

“The presses are over thirty years old. As you know, we are in the process of building you new ones, but they’re not nearly ready.”

Roxann pressed a fingertip to her throbbing forehead. Had her body been sawed down the middle? One side in shock and the other bubbling with anger? “I know that. What does it have to do with replacement parts?”

The room went silent and, after a moment, John spoke up. “They don’t have the parts.” He turned to Charlie. “Am I right?”

“We don’t keep a large inventory of older parts. We have some, but not enough to fix your press. We’ll have to locate the additional parts.”

Roxann leaned forward, aghast at what she was hearing. “How long will that take?”

“Hopefully, not long.”

Blood rushed to her head, the pressure building behind her eyes. “What kind of answer is that? We have half a million newspapers that need to be printed today.”

Charlie retreated farther into his chair. “We’re working on the extra parts.”

On another occasion, she’d have felt sorry for him. He was obviously too inexperienced to be dealing with a situation of this magnitude. His boss would get an earful for sending in a rookie and wasting her time. Not to mention throwing this poor kid into a snake pit.

“I suggest you dial fast,” she said.

“Mrs. Mackey!” Roxann hollered after Charlie left. “Get me the president of Franklin Press.” She turned to John. “They
don’t
have the parts? What is that?”

“I read about this in one of the trade magazines. The manufacturers don’t stock old parts because of the expense.”

“And what? They hope nothing goes wrong with old presses?
Ridiculous.
”

“Yep.”

She drummed her fingers on the desk. “One of the pressmen had to have done this. They’re angry that the contract negotiations aren’t going their way.”

John did a yes-no thing with his head. “We don’t know that.”

“Not yet we don’t, but I want their union representative in here this morning. Someone is going to jail for this.”

He stared at the floor a moment then brought his eyes back to her. He’d obviously made the correct decision this was not the day to argue with her.

“I’ll get the union people in here.” He stood to leave.

“John, we
have
to know who did this. They jeopardized the livelihoods of every one of our employees.”

When he didn’t answer, she assumed he got the message. There would be no shrinking away from this. She contemplated the kind of destruction an angry employee could inflict on a newspaper and disturbing flashes of computer viruses and destroyed machinery settled on her like a lead vest. No, she had to come on strong with this act of sabotage.

“Let’s bring in the security people and put cameras around the building. Just in case.”

“On it, Rox.”

John left and she dialed Phil’s cell number to return his call. She needed to give him the information she’d collected from Michael’s surveillance photos anyway. “Hi, Phil.”

“Yeah, hi, Rox. My P.D. source called me awhile ago. Mike Taylor is being questioned again.”

Michael pushed through the exit of police headquarters with his Doberman of a lawyer in tow. “That wasn’t bad,” Arnie said.

Easy for him to say. He wasn’t the one taking a polygraph. “You think?”

“You’re a convenient suspect. They’re busting your balls. Probably also going through all your insurance policies and finances. If they had something, they’d get a warrant and be tearing through your house and office.”

Yet another comforting thought. Michael’s cell rang and he snatched it from his belt. Vic. “Hey.”

“I’ve been calling for half an hour. Where are you?”

“I had my phone off. The P.D. hauled me in for a polygraph. They don’t believe I was home alone the night Alicia died.”

“Shit,” Vic said.

Michael glanced at Arnie who stood waiting for his driver to scoop him up. “My lawyer tells me I don’t have to worry about it.”

Arnie’s Town-Car pulled to the curb and he said, “Your lawyer also has things to do. I’ll let you know if I hear anything.”

“Thanks.” He waited a beat until Arnie was tucked into his car. “Vic, this guy is a maniac. I think he might be nuts.”

“But he’s a good lawyer. Wasn’t he the one who got that serial killer off on a technicality?”

Michael headed for the parking garage across the street. “Should that make me feel better?”

“He’s a good lawyer, that’s all.”

“He just told me they’re probably going through my finances.”

“You got anything to hide?”

“Not that I’m aware of.”

But major companies had been brought down by employees violating laws and the boss never even knew. Michael liked to think he was relentless when it came to running his company, but he couldn’t possibly watch every transaction.

“Then don’t get nuts. Deal with what you can.”

“Yeah, but you need to be prepared if they arrest me.”

“Mike, I told you, I’m on it. In fact, I’m on my way to the
Banner
. They need us over there ASAP. There’s a problem with the presses.”

On a Saturday? Odd that he hadn’t heard anything from Roxann on this. Then again, his phone had been off and he hadn’t checked his voice mail yet. “Did Roxann call you?”

“No. The guy that works for her. John.”

The associate publisher. “Right. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

What the hell could this be now?

Roxann entered the executive board room with her head high. No sense letting the boys see their lady publisher sweat. The men around the table stood to greet her, and she took her seat at the end. Her gaze went straight to Michael, who hadn’t bothered to return her phone call regarding his trip to the police department. That, she had to admit, irritated her but he sat looking perfectly at ease at her conference table. Michael in the
Banner
’s board room. Her father would have been furious. She certainly never imagined it and wasn’t sure what to think. Time for that later. Work needed to be done. “Hello, gentlemen.”

The room, as familiar to her as her own living room, had held countless meetings and, as a result, her father had furnished it for comfort. The shades were drawn, probably to block the midday sun bouncing off the adjacent building.

Seated in the deep cushioned, leather chairs were John Callahan, Jeff Morgan, Michael—she stopped at Michael and nodded. Vic, in his Sunday best of a suit and tie, sat to her right.

Jeff Morgan cleared his throat. “Uh, Roxann, you know Michael Taylor, correct?”

Oh, she knew him. She knew he used to like dozing with his head resting on her lap when they were supposed to be watching the Cubs. She knew he liked long showers, not necessarily alone. She
knew
he liked waking up with searing early morning sex. Then again, that had been twelve years ago. “We’re acquainted.”

Vic—all Mr. Professional—leaned across the table to shake her hand. “Nice to see you again, Roxann.”

“Thank you for getting here so fast. I trust we’ve done all the introductions, so let’s get started. John, have you told Michael and Vic why they’re here?”

“Not yet, I was waiting for you.”

Michael sat forward, opened his portfolio and gave his pen a click. The sound carried and everyone turned toward him but, as usual, he remained unfazed.

Roxann stared at him for a moment. She would have to tell him about the pressroom. Admitting it to a stranger would have been easier. A stranger wouldn’t understand how this would affect her emotionally. How it would tear into her soul because she faced a major problem and needed to make her father proud. She folded her arms to fight off the exposed, vulnerable feeling raging inside her.

“Someone,” she began, “apparently within our organization, has tampered with our presses, causing it to become incapacitated. In short, we are a newspaper without working presses and it appears we’ll be that way for some time.”

Michael looked up from the notes he jotted, his dark eyes narrowing. Trying to read her. She couldn’t take the intensity and turned to Vic. “The entire building needs to be scrutinized and suggestions made on upgrading security. Obviously, I’ll need it done fast.”

“How do you know it came from inside?” Vic asked.

“Someone loosened the blanket bar.” Vic shook his head indicating he hadn’t a clue what that meant. “If the bar is loose, the press will only run for fifteen to thirty minutes. It eventually comes off. The bar became wedged in the plate cylinders and stopped the press. The bar was checked two days ago and it was tight. Someone loosened it before we began yesterday’s run.”

“We’ll need a tour of the building,” Michael said. “Inside and out.”

She glanced back at him and their eyes met. “Jeff will take care of that. He’ll be your day to day contact once the upgrades are made.” She turned to Jeff. “Why don’t you do the tour now and we can reconvene after.”

The men stood and began filing out, but she stayed seated. “Michael, I need to speak with you.”

Vic turned to Michael and raised his eyebrows. “We’ll get started.”

Roxann gestured for Michael to sit in the chair to her left. With her face so pale, she wore the look of a worn sheet that had been stretched across too many beds.

“I called you earlier,” she said.

“I had my phone off. The P.D. dragged me in for a polygraph. I was on my way here when your message came through.”

“A polygraph?”

He shrugged. “Arnie says they’re trying to rattle me.” He leaned forward, propped his elbows on the table and dug the palms of his hands into his eye sockets.
Damned pressure
. “They’re doing a good job.”

“Arnie Stark is brilliant. If he says there’s nothing to worry about, I’d believe him.”

“Still, I’m not sitting around and waiting for the P.D. to figure out who killed Alicia. I’ve been paying Alicia’s bills. Court ordered until the divorce was final. I asked Arnie to leverage that to get me copies of her phone bills.”

“Will that work?”

“I don’t know.” He blew a breath out. Time to focus on her problems. Nothing he could do about his right now. “What do you think happened in that pressroom?”

“My guess is one of the pressmen did it.”

“Because of the contract negotiations?”

“How do you know about the contract?”

“The
Chronicle
’s been hammering you on it. Not that I read that newspaper, but I hear things. Besides, your sports is better.”

She half smiled. “Thank you, but last night our coverage stunk. I want this building secured. I don’t care what it costs. Someone obviously wants to put us out of business, and I have twenty-five hundred employees to protect.”

Her eyes sparked and her face became a glossy red. The Roxann version of a temper tantrum. Her determination to preserve not only her family’s legacy, but her employees’ income multiplied his respect for her. This was the woman he wanted. Right here. He reached to touch her arm. “I’ll take care of the security.”

She gazed down at his hand, her head tilted sideways and he thought about pulling back, but, nah, he’d wait her out. Slowly, she slid her arm free and patted his fingers. Good enough. For now.

“Thank you for not saying I told you so.”

What did that mean? Michael held his hands out in question.

“You told me to change the guards at the desk. I’ve been dragging my feet.”

She thought this was
her
fault? She had to be the sharpest woman he knew and she didn’t deserve this. He wouldn’t mind getting his hands on the son of a bitch responsible.

“Rox, you couldn’t have prevented this. Switching the lobby guys wouldn’t have mattered if it was an employee. They’d have been in the building anyway.”

She stared up at him, thought about it and shrugged. “Which is why I want cameras everywhere.”

“And you’ll get them.”

“It’ll be a prison in here.”

Michael felt the slap of her words. Prison. A word he’d become intimately involved with over the past week. She turned to him, realized what she had said and buried her face in her hands.

“What an idiot. I can’t believe I said that.”

“Forget it. You got bigger things to deal with.”

She tugged her hands over her cheeks. Damn, she looked beat. By his way of thinking, he should just wrap her in a hug, but she’d kill him if he tried. Comfort wasn’t what Roxann needed. Strong-willed people, himself included, didn’t allow themselves to show vulnerability. Coddling would piss her off. Still, the thought of her in his arms turned his body to steel.
Take it easy, Taylor.
“You okay?”

She nodded and glanced toward the window. Not looking at him.

Rising from her chair, she walked to the window, opened one of the blinds. “It’s the fatigue. This pressroom thing threw me. My uncle being a brat isn’t helping.”

“He rip into you again?”

She turned back to him and leaned against the window sill. With the light hitting her face, the shadows under her eyes became evident. A few strands of hair had broken free from her hair clip and he itched to tuck them behind her ear. But the way he was feeling right now, if he touched her, he’d want more and still more and there’d never be an end to his want.

He flexed his fingers. Sitting around and listening wasn’t his way. He really wanted to pummel Max for making this strong, knowledgeable woman feel insecure and childish. More than that, he needed to accept responsibility for getting her involved in his mess. Had he not gone to her, the
Banner
would have covered this story as any other and she most likely wouldn’t have been dealing with her uncle’s pissy moods.

“Sorry about Max,” he said.

“He wouldn’t have reacted that way if we weren’t onto something. This is typical of his behavior. He’s trying to bully me off the story.”

“Nice guy.”

“Generally, he is. He just doesn’t want me getting into his investigations. Having his boss’s chief of staff involved makes him tense. He must be getting pressure from the mayor.” She checked her watch and fiddled with it for a moment before heading toward him. “I have to hunt down parts for my press.”

Michael stood. On instinct, he reached out a hand, palm up, hoping she’d lay hers on top of it. What the hell. Why not? They were friends. Hopefully more than that.

“Anything I can do?”

She stared at his hand, clearly understanding his intention and—after hesitating—moved her hand over his.

Whoosh.
The sound of breaking waves ran through his head. He’d been holding his breath, hoping she wouldn’t ignore the gesture. Hoping she wouldn’t
reject
him. And she hadn’t.
Easy, Taylor. Don’t scare her off
.

She stared at their hands for a moment then gazed up at him, her eyes clear and focused and oh-so-aware of what he wanted.

“You can let me know about the security,” she said.

He squeezed her hand and held it for another minute. “That I can do.”