they caught the man who abducted you?”
His ire rising, Zach wrapped an arm around Elizabeth’s shoulders and guided her toward the parking lot.
Neil’s words pelted their backs. “How does it feel to be the story instead of covering it, Elizabeth?”
Zach felt an echo of his own life in the question. Maybe he could help Elizabeth get through this. “Don’t give him anything to feed off of. The story will die down in a couple of days if you don’t give them anything.”
She pressed close to him, seeking his protection. Neil traipsed after them with his cameraman in tow.
“I know the public has a short attention span. It’s just going to be a long couple of days.” Frustration colored her words.
Zach turned to face Neil, holding his palm toward the other reporter. “She really doesn’t want to talk right now.” Zach kept his voice level.
They were within a few feet of his car. He reached over to the passenger side door. Elizabeth slipped into the seat.
He was about to close the door when Neil bent down and leaned close to Elizabeth. “Did the events of tonight bring back what happened to you in college?”
Elizabeth’s face went completely white. “How...did you...find out about that?” Not giving him a chance to answer, she grabbed the door and slammed it.
Zach resisted the urge to push Neil. His hands curled into fists. “You need to leave right now.” He had no idea what events Neil was referencing, but the comment clearly had upset Elizabeth.
Neil put up his hand in a surrender gesture. “A story is a story.”
Despite his warm onscreen persona, Neil Thompson always struck Zach as being a little slimy. Now he seemed downright repellent. “Is that what it’s really about or are you just trying to humiliate your competition?”
Neil shook his head. “Just trying to do my job.”
“I doubt that.” He brushed past Neil, close enough that Neil had to take a step back. “Get out of my way and stay out of hers.”
Zach yanked open the driver’s-side door and got behind the wheel. Elizabeth still looked pale, and her mouth was drawn into a hard, flat line. She turned her face toward the window when he glanced over at her.
As he pulled out of the parking lot, he got a view of Neil and his cameraman, both with angry expressions. He was glad to see them growing smaller and farther away in the rearview mirror.
Elizabeth continued to stare out the window.
Whatever Neil had made a reference to, it had cut Elizabeth to the core. His heart ached for her. He liked Neil Thompson even less. Getting the story was one thing. Deliberately hurting someone was another thing entirely. “You don’t have to tell me what he was talking about. Let’s just get you home.”
* * *
Still burning from what Neil Thompson had brought up, Elizabeth’s hand trembled when she flipped through her keys to find the one for her house. As they pulled up to the curb, her home was a welcome sight. They got out of the car and made their way up the walk.
A familiar looking woman parked at the curb exited her car and bustled toward Elizabeth—Gwen Monroe from the Badger Chronicle. Elizabeth’s knees felt weak. The bombardment just kept coming. She really didn’t want to deal with this right now or at any time. She liked being the one doing the interview.
Zachery stepped between Elizabeth and the woman. “Gwen, she doesn’t want to talk to anyone.”
Gwen lifted her chin. “A well-known reporter gets kidnapped. That’s a story, Zach.”
After shoving the key in the lock, Elizabeth breathed a prayer of thanks for Zach. The man was her nemesis in so many ways. But he’d come through for her when she needed him most. In the days to come, she knew she would need all the friends she could get, especially if other reporters kept circling around.
She was still bothered that Neil Thompson had found out about her date rape. The case had never made it to trial, but the allegations had been covered by the college newspaper and her name had been leaked. Still, it wasn’t like it had been front page news. Neil didn’t strike her as the investigative reporter type either.
Zach’s voice held authority as he faced Gwen. “Find a different story. She’s not ready to make any kind of a statement.”
Gwen took several steps back.
Elizabeth pushed open the door and closed her eyes. “Stay,” she said to Zach. Her words held a desperation she hadn’t expected.
“What?”
“Stay until we’re sure there are no more reporters going to bother me.” Normally, she wouldn’t even be comfortable asking a man into her house. But Zach seemed...safe.
He met her gaze, and for the first time, she noticed that his eyes were more gray than blue.
“I can do that.” He nodded before glancing over his shoulder. “Gwen doesn’t give up easily.”
Elizabeth slipped inside her house, and he followed. She hit the light switch by the door. Nothing had changed in her living room, though it felt like an entirely different place. She was not the same person who had left here to cover the warehouse fire.
The warm tones of the living room that normally looked so cozy only made her feel more alone.
“How about I make you some tea?” Zach offered.
“Let me. It’s my kitchen.” She moved toward the counter.
He touched her arm just above the elbow. “No, you need to sit down. I’ll figure out where things are in the kitchen.”
Though his touch was gentle, his words held force. She didn’t have the energy to argue with him.
“Thanks for everything. Now I double owe you,” she said.
“It’s all part of my evil plan. Soon you will owe me the world.” He rubbed his hands together theatrically and laughed like a villain in a cartoon.
In spite of everything, he made her shake her head and smile. When she laughed, her ribs hurt, just a reminder that the bruising would take weeks to heal.
“There’s that beauty queen toothy grin we all adore, Betsy,” he teased.
She rolled her eyes, amazed at how easily he could pull her from a dark place with his humor. “Stop—it was one pageant and winning paid for journalism school.” She’d been only eighteen then. Small town girl headed to the big city, so full of hope. She slumped down on the couch and watched as he put a teakettle on and opened cupboards to find cups and tea.
She was grateful he hadn’t pressed for details about what happened in college. Craig Miller had never gone to jail. Her lawyer had believed her, but there hadn’t been enough evidence. The trauma of the attack had caused her to fall apart emotionally, which would have made her a bad witness. She understood why the case hadn’t gone to trial, but the fact that she’d
