Risking Trust (26 page)

Roxann walked passed Mrs. Mackey’s desk with a feigned, but robust, “Good morning.”

What felt like a small mountain of sand had lodged under her eyelids, but that’s what a girl got when she stayed up until 3:00 a.m. staring at a computer screen. She hadn’t found anything of interest in the files or the tapes, but Roxann wondered if she’d missed something. It wouldn’t hurt to go over the notes again.

Mrs. Mackey followed her into the office. “Give it a rest, Sassy. I know you better.”

“I figured I’d give cheerful a shot.”

“What do you need?”

The list of needs was pretty darn long. No one had enough time for that. Roxann slid off her suit jacket and draped it over the back of her chair before taking her seat. “Screen my calls. If it can wait, let it wait. Only the important stuff today. The meeting with the pressmen will take most of the afternoon and I still need to prepare something.”

She stopped and thought about it. How many offers had she made them over the past month? They’d declined every one. “You know, I have nothing left to give them. Maybe
they
need to offer
me
something.”

Mrs. Mackey grinned. “I love the way your mind works.”

Roxann smirked. “Anyway, only the important stuff today. Michael’s arraignment is this morning and I want to be there.”

“Not a good idea,” a male voice interrupted.

Roxann glanced up and saw Vic in her doorway. He’d become a regular at the newspaper and no longer required a visitor’s pass. Despite the suit he wore, he looked worse than she did. His hair, always stylishly messy, didn’t have the style today, but definitely had the mess.

“Excuse me?” she said.

Vic walked into the office, shifted his gaze to Mrs. Mackey and back. No mistaking that hint.

Roxann turned to her. “Will you excuse us?”

Mrs. Mackey inclined her head, obviously not happy about it. “Of course.”

Roxann waited until he closed the door. “What’s this about me not going? I want to be there.”

“Commendable, but dumb-ass. After the show you put on yesterday, the press will be gunning for you.”

She pushed back and folded her arms. “I don’t care.”

“Mike does.”

“You talked to him? Is he all right?”

“No, I didn’t talk to him. Arnie called and said Mike specifically said you shouldn’t go.”

Why would Michael shut her out? “Well, I guess if he doesn’t
want
me there.”

“Oh, please. Don’t get all female on me. You know how he feels about you and he doesn’t want you putting yourself out there.”

“I’ve not only put myself out there, I’ve put my newspaper out there. I don’t see how any of it matters. After yesterday, this city knows about us.”

“Don’t bust my balls, Roxann. I’m telling you what he said.”

She nodded. “I’ll take it under advisement. What else? I know you didn’t come here to tell me that.”

“I got a call from Jerry Foyle last night. Mike asked him to look into your pressroom problem and he figured I was in the loop. I wasn’t, but with Mike being…you know, Jerry called me.”

Roxann drove her heels into the floor to steady her quaking legs. Was she about to find out who destroyed her property? “What is it?”

“Jerry made some calls. A friend of a friend type thing.”

She propped her elbows on the desk. “Just tell me. Please.”

Their eyes met and held for a minute while she braced herself for the news.

“Your production manager has a gambling problem.”

Not much shocked her anymore, but the idea of nerdy Craig Rawlins being a degenerate gambler definitely did the job. She scoffed, “You cannot be serious? He’s a good man.”

“No, he’s not.”

She waited a beat, her heart hammering.

“He owed Jerry’s not so nice friends a pile of money. A pile that wouldn’t be repaid on
his
salary. The vig alone…”

No need to elaborate on the interest owed. Had to be a lot. Roxann reached down, white knuckled the arms of her chair. “Tell me the rest.”

“The guy Craig owed money to had an in with the mayor’s office.”

An earlier conversation with Phil slammed into her brain. Phil had made an offhanded comment that Leland Wingate’s son had criminal ties. Could this be who Craig owed money to? And was Leland Wingate the in with the mayor’s office? Had to be some bizarre coincidence. Couldn’t be. Could it?

She shot to her feet, but her head spun and she put a hand on the desk for balance.

“Tell me Leland Wingate’s son is the guy Craig owed and the streets and sanitation director was the connection.”

“I don’t know the exact who and what. Jerry wouldn’t tell me, but it’s no secret how the mayor feels about the
Banner
. The mob guys, figuring they could score points with the mayor, got word to him that Craig owed them money.”

“The mayor made a deal with whoever this person is?”

Vic nodded. “Yeah. If he’d get Craig to disable the presses the mayor would owe him a favor. The guy gave Craig a pass. The mayor owing a favor was worth more. I guess the mayor wanted to teach you a lesson.”

Roxann stood motionless, her brain attempting to absorb it. This, she could not believe. Preposterous. Vic opened his mouth, but she jerked a hand at him. “Wait. Stop. I…uh.”

She shook her head, then on wobbly knees walked to the window. The sun shone on the building across the street and she realized this sunny day would be remembered as a travesty. She dropped onto the windowsill, one leg swinging, while she dissected the story and put it back together.

This couldn’t be true. Craig had worked for the
Banner
for years. Her father had adored him. And this is how he repays that respect? How could he betray them?

She had to face him herself. She swallowed the simmering rage and turned to Vic.

“I need to hear it from Craig. There’s no proof.”

Vic sat next to her on the sill. “Rox, why would Jerry make this up? He doesn’t even want his name brought up. If these guys knew he helped—well, let’s not speculate on what would happen.”

She narrowed her eyes. “I need to talk to Craig. Give him the opportunity to deny it.”

“How are you gonna do that? You can’t just hit him with it. We have to protect Jerry. He and Mike have been friends a long time.”

Understanding, she nodded. What if it were Janie? What would Roxann be willing to risk for her? Jerry, via Michael, had come through for her.

“I’ll say Phil came up with something during his City Hall probe and I put the pieces together. If Craig admits it, it won’t matter how we found out. Personally, I hope he denies it. This makes me sick.”

“I’m sure. Also, I checked on Mike’s passport.”

She held up a hand. “I don’t care.”

Vic smiled. “Fine, but just so you know. His old one expired six months ago. He applied for it, but his application got lost and he had to reapply.”

He’d applied long before Alicia was killed. “They’re holding him on a coincidence?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

“Another reason to get him out.”

Sixty-five minutes later, she sat behind her desk staring out the window. A bird rested on the ledge sunning itself.

Some life.

Craig Rawlins had cried. She’d asked him outright and, without even bothering to deny it, he’d crumpled. He’d owed the mob a hundred-thousand dollars.

A hundred-thousand dollars.

He didn’t know anything about Wingate’s son. He dealt with someone else. Probably someone who worked for Wingate’s son. The mob was threatening him. His wife had no idea he had a gambling problem and when the mob came to him with a solution, he went for it. With full knowledge of the consequences, he loosened the blanket bar on the press.

After hearing Craig’s story, she had called the police and they took him into custody.

Craig wasn’t able to give them anything regarding City Hall. He had no idea why he’d been asked to disable the presses. He’d been told it wasn’t his concern. Roxann, to protect Michael’s friend, chose to keep that element to herself.

She had to speak to the staff immediately. The building was probably already buzzing and the employees were owed an explanation.

The story would be all over the news, but so far, only the
Banner
knew there was a City Hall connection, and Phil had stormed out like a man running from a ticking bomb. By the time he finished, the mayor’s office would consider him, rather than her, the most reviled newspaper person in the city.

Good for him.

Mrs. Mackey came into the office, walked to the credenza and turned on the television. She left again, closing the door behind her. On the television, a perky blonde stood outside the criminal courts building as she announced that Michael Taylor had been denied bail.

Denied bail? Roxann began to wonder if the entire universe had a drug addiction. Denied bail? He had no prior offenses and the proof was shaky at best. She’d seen serial killers get bail, but not Michael.

Politics.

It was all politics. She rose, turned the television off and, overwhelmed by the information, collapsed into one of the guest chairs. Life’s assault on her system left her numb, and she wondered just how much a girl could take. The rage had been building, and she’d been pushing it back, burying it, sorting it out, filing it away. Now she was done. She had nothing left. No tears to cry, no screams to vent, just a hollow emptiness in her core.

Sunlight glistened off the windows across the street and, fortified by the glow, she started at her toes, and put herself back to together, piece by hollow piece, until she reached the top. She sat straight and took a breath.

Done.

Time to get to work.

She headed to the outer office where Mrs. Mackey sat at her desk. “I’ll be in the newsroom. Would you please get me Tim Griffin at the state attorney’s office and transfer him to Phil’s desk?”

Mrs. Mackey slapped her hands together. “Go get ’em.”

“Yep. Time to get Michael out of jail.”

Michael sat on the cracker-thin cot staring at the far wall of his six by six cell.

His head did a looping spin. Time to lie down.

If this was going to be the view for the rest of his life, he’d rather end it now. Maybe ending it was extreme, but he’d go crazy if he had to stay locked up. Bad enough he’d been denied bail and would have to hope for a quick trial date.

He studied his attire. Dark gray scrubs with Cook County Jail stamped on the left breast.

Shit
.

And the damned mattress had that one blasted coil jutting into his back.

What monumental mistake had led him to this place? It wasn’t killing Alicia. That he knew for sure.

Marrying Alicia.

Sad, but true. If he’d stuck it out, put up with the bullshit from Roxann’s father, he was sure they’d have gotten married. She’d have been a good wife. Strong, supportive and above all, faithful.

He’d fucked that up good.

“Taylor, you got a visitor,” the guard, a young kid with a roadmap of a face, said.

Michael sat up thinking it would be Vic.

Roadmap grinned. “She’s a hot one too.”

That description narrowed it down to Roxann or Gina, and Michael felt the ever present need to pop the guy who talked about his sister that way. As far as Roxann went, he couldn’t blame the guy. She
was
hot.

Whichever one it was, Gina or Roxann, she was going to get an earful.

“I have a thing for blondes too.”

Mystery solved. “Dream on, dickhead.”

That comment risked a beating with the club, but the idea of that maggot near Roxann made Michael sick.

The guard laughed. “Too bad visiting is over in fifteen minutes. I wouldn’t mind looking at her awhile.”

Michael stepped from the cell and pictured himself putting his fingers in his ears.
Tune him out. Don’t listen. La, la, la, la, I can’t hear you
. The fucker was trying to rile him.
He wants you to swing at him. Not today, pal. I’m not losing my few privileges
.

Roadmap opened the door to the visiting area consisting of a long row of thin metal chairs with desks separated by a glass wall.

Roxann had taken the second chair from the door and Michael’s heart kicked at the site of her. He reminded himself he was pissed at her for coming. He’d missed her though. Thirty-three hours without her was too long.

They both picked up their plastic phones, but he turned to watch the guard leave before looking back to Roxann.

Her eyes, shadowed and puffy, stayed focused on him. She wore her hair pulled back and a killer suit that screamed she was too good for this shit hole.

“Why are you here?” he asked.

“Hello to you too.”

“Sorry. Hi. Why are you here?”

She sighed. “I was worried about you. Maybe even missed you, but with that greeting, I have no idea why.”

He scooted closer to the glass and wished he could reach through and touch her. “I miss you, too, but I hate you being in this place. You don’t belong here.”

“And you do?”

He shrugged. “They seem to think so.”

Ignoring his statement, she said, “I didn’t make it to court this morning. Did Vic tell you everything?”

Michael nodded and mouthed, “We’re being recorded. Watch what you say.”

She smiled in response when the guard’s head popped through the door.

“I’m sorry about Craig,” Michael said. “I wouldn’t have figured on that.”

“Me neither, but it’s over now. Phil is breaking every rule of political correctness trying to figure out who the link is. I’m sure it’s who we were researching.”

Wingate
.

“Think Phil will figure it out?”

“Yep.”

“The mayor’s going to be on you.”

“And your point is? Besides, he’s not nearly as scary as he used to be.”

“That’s my girl.”

She smiled wide and for a minute he almost forgot where they were. Almost. Then her smile vanished and those sparkling blue eyes met his.

“I’m going to get you out of here, Michael. We’ll have a life together.”

A life together. He and Roxann. Too much to hope for.