don’t get stories. You read them.”
The two police officers had moved from the main room into the bathroom, checking it out. Other cops, homicide detectives, would be arriving any second to help secure the crime scene, and the two journalists would be tossed out on their asses.
“Have they found anything?” she asked him.
“You think I’d tell you if they had?”
She shrugged. “Don’t tell me you’re going to try to scoop me on the hard facts, MacKenzie. We both know you make them up as you go along.”
“At least I got my job based on my talent and not on my cleavage.”
She shot him a hate-filled glance. He mirrored it back at her. Then he yanked his camera out of the case that hung from his shoulder and snapped several photos of the dead man. The camera was the quietest one he owned, and he didn’t use the flash. It was a tacky and cheap thing to do, and he would probably be barred from selling the photos, Harry being who he had been, black sheep of a political family that rivaled royalty in New York State. But the photos would be worth some nice cash if he could get away with it.
She said, “You’re a ghoul, MacKenzie.” Then she shouldered him aside. “I’m going in there.” And she walked right into the room.
He reached out to grab her arm, to stop her, but his reaction wasn’t fast enough. She walked right into the crime scene. Granted, there was no yellow tape across the door just yet, but she still knew better. What the hell was she thinking?
She stood near the glass-topped coffee table, her back to him, a notebook in her hand, scribbling rapidly. Only it was odd, because she wasn’t really looking at the notepad as she wrote on it. She was scanning the room, craning her neck, looking at the floor, peering underneath the table. Sean didn’t see all that much of interest besides the body. What was she looking for?
The two cops came from the bathroom, one of them carrying a small zippered plastic evidence bag in his hand. Mac shoved the camera back into the case and backed off just a little, out of the line of fire, but still close enough to see. He was going to relish watching Julie Jones get her ass toasted for this temporary bout of idiocy or whatever had made her walk into that room. He didn’t really think she’d been sitting at the anchor desk long enough to have forgotten the procedure for crime scene reporting. The press did not trample crime scenes. Even he knew that much.
The cops froze in their tracks at the sight of her.
“Just what the hell do you think you’re doing in here? This is a crime scene!”
She jerked her head up sharply, and Sean saw the moment the cop recognized her. The most famous news anchor in Central NY. “I’m reporting. That’s what I do,” she said. She tucked the pencil behind her ear and started to open the little handbag she carried. “I have ID, if you—”
“Get your fucking ass out of here before I haul you in on an unlawful entry charge!”
It must have startled her, because she dropped the bag. Several items spilled out of it when it hit the floor.
“Jesus, you’re contaminating the hell out of my crime scene,” the second cop said, pushing past the first one toward her. He dropped to his knees on the floor, scooping up her items and shoving them back into her bag, then rising and pushing it into her hands even while shoving her bodily out the door. “You saw her drop that shit, didn’t you, Klein?”
“Yeah, yeah, it’s fine. There was nothing on the floor when we came in. It’s fine, just get her the fuck out before we end up explaining to the lieutenant how she got by us, all right? Jax will have us doing paperwork for a freaking month if she hears about this.”
Julie was pawing through the open bag as the cop shoved her out into the hallway. He caught sight of Sean. “You with her?”
“I’m just waiting for a statement.” Sean held up both hands, backing off.
“Stay out here.” The cop glanced at the camera bag. “And no photos.”
“Yes, sir.”
Julie was still digging through the purse. “Hey, hey, wait a minute. Where are my keys?”
Both cops turned. They did not look amused. Probably had visions of that paperwork mountain and an unpleasant session with their superiors dancing in their heads, Sean thought. He knew Lieutenant Jackson, and they were right. She would have them buried in paperwork for this.
Jones went through the items in the purse, taking them out one by one. A cell phone, a pack of gum, a business card case, an earring. “I can’t find my keys,” she said again.
“Jesus, lady, are you saying you lost ‘em in here?”
She searched all of her pockets. Made a big production about it, Sean thought. “I had them. And now I don’t. That’s all I know.”
One cop closed his eyes, sighing and shaking his head.
The other one was talking fast. “What do they look like?”
“The key ring is silver, in the shape of my initials. J. J. It’s got several keys on it. House, office, garage, file cabinet, my car, my daughter’s Jeep.”
As she kept talking, the other cop got back on the floor, looking underneath the chairs, shaking his head in disgust when he found nothing.
The other one said, “Look, if we find your keys, we’ll get ‘em to you, okay? That’s the best we can do for you, lady, and lemme tell you right now, if you breathe a word to anyone about this, I’ll see to it you never get any kind of cooperation from our department again. No tips, no exclusives, no press releases, and we’ll keep you so far away from crime scenes from now on that you’ll have watch someone else’s news show to get the details.” He glanced at Sean. “That goes for both of you. Understand?”
“Yes. Yes, of course I do,” Julie said quickly. “Thank you, Officer. I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m so sorry.” She yanked the card case from her purse again, took out a card and handed it to him. “When you find the keys, just call me, all right?”
He muttered something unintelligible.
The other cop came forward. “Look, go wait in the lobby. Homicide and Forensics are on the way. I want you two out of here.”
“Can’t we at least get a statement?” Sean asked. And he couldn’t figure out why she hadn’t asked it first. Was she that rusty when it came to actual reporting? The elevator pinged and opened, and several plainclothes cops got out, including the one Sean thought of as the sexiest cop on the force—and maybe also the scariest—blond-haired, blue-eyed Lieutenant Cassandra Jackson.
“You want a statement?” she asked, honing in on the conversation as she strode toward the room. “Here’s your statement. ‘An unidentified man was found dead in the Armory Hotel. Police suspect foul play and an investigation is underway.’”
Sean had started to write, then lifted his head. “That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
“Oh, come on, Jax. It’s Senator Blackwood’s lowlife brother, and his throat’s been
