Morris cleared his throat. “The policy forbids Newslead staff from using their position for any form of personal gain.”
“But I didn’t gain anything.”
“You went to Rampart on a personal, private matter,” Morris read from his notebook. “But you represented yourself as a Newslead reporter on assignment, to New York trooper Len Reddick in an attempt to gain access to a crime scene. After you were refused access, you trespassed.”
“That led to possible charges.” Reeka stared at her.
Sensing a noose being tightened, Kate turned to Chuck, who was just sitting there. She couldn’t believe it. She and Chuck had been through hell together. He’d begged her to come to New York and work for him at Newslead. He knew about her sister and had been supportive. He was the most powerful manager in the room and, she thought, her friend. But there he was staring at the skyline. Leaving Kate alone.
“Quite frankly, Kate,” Reeka said, examining her own glossed nails. “I fail to comprehend why you went up there and did what you did.”
“What?”
“My read on this is that it’s a regional story, a rural domestic, a murder-suicide. Didn’t you lose your sister in western Canada?”
“What the hell do you—”
“Kate,” Chuck intervened.
“I was called by Rampart police,” Kate said. “They requested my help and I cooperated. There are strong indications my sister, who’s been feared dead for twenty years, was a victim!”
“Kate, take it down,” Chuck cautioned.
“But identities in Rampart have not been confirmed, have they?” Reeka lifted her eyebrows to punctuate her point.
“What? Reeka, how can you sit there and—”
“Kate, hold off,” Chuck said. “This is a difficult, complicated situation. It’s put you under stress and strained your judgment. The best action here is for you to take two weeks off, Kate, starting now.”
“Are you suspending me?”
“No, you’re taking time off with pay. I’ve approved it.”
Chuck signaled an end to the meeting.
“We have counseling services available, if you need it.” Morris clicked his pen and closed his notebook.
“I suggest you look into that, Kate. It’s for the best,” Reeka said.
They walked out of the room, leaving Kate alone with Chuck.
Several beats after the door had closed she turned to him.
“What happened?”
“You lost control in Rampart, Kate. The organization will not tolerate that. I cautioned you before you went there to avoid any conflict. You were on your own and could not represent yourself as a Newslead reporter.”
“Yes, but the indication my sister had been there was so strong.”
“You’ve followed similar leads over the years and unfortunately each one has dead-ended. Didn’t you tell me that yourself, Kate?”
“I know, Chuck, but this time it’s different.”
“I appreciate what you’re going through. Take time off, for your own peace of mind. See how your Rampart lead plays out, but if you pursue this, for God’s sake, do it on your own. Is that understood?”
Kate nodded.
“Listen,” Chuck added, “the rumors of more layoffs looming may come true. We’re not breaking big stories. We’re losing subscribers. Everyone’s on edge.” He ran a hand over his face. “Kate, you’re a good reporter, an asset to the company.”
“Thank you.”
“Morris had your termination papers in his notebook. Reeka wanted you fired. I put a stop to that.”
New York City
Kate was still reeling when she returned to her empty apartment.
She splashed warm water on her face, then buried it into a towel as a million thoughts swirled through her mind.
I was that close to being fired.
She shut her eyes tight, then opened them.
Thank God, Chuck had my back.
And the rumors of layoffs were true.
If I’d lost my job... Calm down.
She had a nest egg, built from the freelance pieces she’d done, like the big one for Vanity Fair on the Dallas story. And, because of her sublet deal and having gotten rid of her car, she’d saved more money.
Grace and I have been through hard times before—we’ll make it.
Eclipsing everything was the reality that Kate had never been this close to finding out what had happened to her sister. She had to use these next two weeks to go full throttle in her search for the truth.
I’m forgetting something. What am I forgetting?
Her phone started ringing. She went to her bedroom and answered it.
“Kate, Ed Brennan in Rampart.”
Her anger rose before she could think.
“I want my necklace back, Ed. And when you’re done with my sister’s necklace I want it, too.”
“Hold on there—everything’s still under investigation. I’m calling to update you because you should be among the first to know.”
“First to know what?”
“We’ve confirmed the identity of the deceased female.”
Kate’s stomach tensed and she gripped the phone tighter.
“Is it Vanessa?”
“No. I’m sorry. The victim’s name is Bethany Ann Wynn from Hartford, Connecticut. Identification was confirmed through dental records. She’d been missing for three years. Her age at death was twenty-two.”
Vanessa would’ve been twenty-six.
For a long moment Kate didn’t know what to say.
“I’m sorry for Bethany Wynn’s family. Do they know?”
“They’ve been informed and we’ve just posted a news release.”
“What does this mean for
