probably shouldn’t tell you this,” Angela Liddy said, speaking softly as she paused beside the car. “But you should know that Larry Barnett is determined to see you lose your job.”
Yeah, Meredith had gathered that much. “It’ll take more than my speaking with his wife to make that happen,” she said. “I have rights.”
“And he has power,” the reporter said. “I’d be careful if I were you.”
Careful. What did that mean—not talking to reporters? Okay, she’d screwed up that one. And otherwise she was just living her life, going to work, coming home, watching the game-show network while she graded papers. What could she do that would be any more careful than that?
Not feel, not be herself?
How the hell did one do that?
MARK CAUGHT the news Wednesday night, lying in bed alone with the television on, attempting to fall asleep. Heart sinking when he heard the intro to the coming stories. Remote control in hand, he raised the volume another couple of notches.
She’d done a damned interview? Bad enough that Barnett was spreading this all over the media, but did Meredith have to feed the frenzy? Did she have no sense at all?
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