believe that if it had been the body of a dead politician that was discovered on the Johnsons’ veranda. Or, say, a woman who was having an affair with one of the Washington officials. Or even the son or daughter of some official who wanted to spill the beans on good old mom or dad.” He paused for effect. “Those things I’d believe—they’re what the media today consider legitimate stories.”
“I work on several stories at the same time. Reporters don’t have the luxury of focusing on a single story.”
Mel laughed a deep, full laugh that under other circumstances might have triggered a smile on Lily’s face. Instead, her frown deepened.
“I’m just curious about what the Post’s premier political reporter has to say about a baby. Yes, a baby is a legitimate story. Readers love stories with fairy-tale endings, and if the Johnsons adopt that baby, he’ll have a wonderful life. I just don’t see you as the reporter to put that Cinderella finish on it, though. You’re too tough.”
“You’re getting very close to being insulting.” Lily was shocked that he could get under her skin. Being tough was usually a compliment, but Mel made her sound cold and hard and heartless.
“I didn’t realize you were such a romantic, Lily. Reading your byline in the paper, I always had the feeling you were more interested in being the executioner than the fairy godmother.”
His words stung, and Lily tightened her hands on the steering wheel. Though one part of her brain knew he was trying to goad her into a response, she couldn’t stop herself. “That’s a damn lie. I don’t identify with the executioner. When people do bad things, I write about it. Just exactly the same way you try to put them in jail.” The more she talked, the hotter she got. She pushed her door open, forcing him to step back, as she got out of the car.
“I didn’t realize you were so sensitive,” Mel said, his amusement only further inflaming her.
“I’m not overly sensitive. I’m a hardworking reporter who tries to write the best story she can find. I don’t make up facts and I don’t persecute individuals, but by God if I get the goods on them, then I don’t cry in my coffee when I hang them out to dry in print.”
“What terrible deed can you pin on an infant?” he asked.
“Not the infant, you nitwit. The fa—” She barely caught herself in time. “What’s this personal vendetta you have against me?”
“It’s not personal, Lily. I just want to know what your role is regarding the abandoned baby. Right about now, I’m sure you have one.”
She inhaled sharply and knew she had to gather her wits and keep her mouth shut. Mel Haskin was a superb interrogator, and he’d just gotten her to admit some very important information about her private views on life.
“My role is to write a story about this baby, if there’s a story worth writing. And I won’t know that until I look into the facts a little more. So tell me, Detective, why are you following me? And this time I won’t be distracted. I want the truth.”
“I think you know more about this baby than you’re letting on. See, I don’t buy it that the primo political reporter for the paper is suddenly going to write a women’s-section story about abandoned kids. I know the newspaper business. You’ve worked hard to be respected as a political journalist. You don’t want to go back to writing touchy-feely pieces on babies.”
Although Mel angered her, Lily had to give him credit for understanding her business far better than she’d ever have thought. She’d busted her chops getting accepted as a political writer. Even though journalism was an area where women rose farther and faster than most other professions, there was still a glass ceiling.
Even if she’d wanted to write a “touchy-feely piece,” as Mel put it, she couldn’t afford to show that kind of weakness.
“That still doesn’t tell me why you’re tailing me.” She had to get the focus of the conversation off her and back where it belonged—on Mel.
“Like I said, I’m curious to see what you’re up to. I’m playing a hunch.”
“That borders on harassment.” She could see she wasn’t calling his bluff.
“I don’t think my boss or your lawyer would agree.”
“I don’t like being followed.”
Mel nodded. “I’ll note your objections. If you want me to stop, why don’t you tell me what you know about this mysterious baby?”
Lily felt her frustration grow. She’d already wasted fifteen minutes with the detective. Susie was waiting for her. Waiting and probably fretting. And she had to figure out how to write her story without putting Susie in more danger.
“I have a busy night planned, officer. Now, if you’ll excuse me….”
She felt his hand on her arm. “What are you doing down here?” He nodded at the street, which was no longer empty. Several shadowy figures had appeared at the end of the block, and they were standing and waiting, like wolves packed for the kill.
Looking at the four men, Lily felt a tremor of fear shoot through her. The neighborhood was bad. She was going to have to get Susie out of here. The only reason they’d chosen this part of town was because it was one area where Wayman Bishop’s influence didn’t extend. No, this part of town was under the sway of gangs and poverty, and not even the advisor to the mayor, with all of his power and pull, had figured out a way to bring it under his control.
“As I said before, I’m working on a story,” Lily said.
“I hope it’s worth risking your life.”
“I’ll be careful. I always am. Besides, those guys aren’t any more dangerous than a roomful of senators.”
To her surprise, Mel laughed out loud. The sound of his laughter worked like a talisman against the men at the end of the block. They quickly withdrew, disappearing into the shadows.
“You have a point there, Lily. But where senators may ruin your career, those guys might kill you.”
To her surprise, she found herself staring into his dark eyes. It was a second that felt like an instant electric charge—and an eternity. She saw things in those eyes—a flicker of pain and caring, and keen intelligence. It was so sudden and so unexpected, she forgot to breathe.
“That would be a real loss,” Mel added softly.
The unexpected compliment in his words made Lily draw in a sharp breath. “I have to go,” she said, suddenly more aware than she wanted to be of how handsome Mel was. This tall, athletic man kept himself in shape. He also normally kept himself at a distance, which was part of his appeal. He was good to look at and had been completely unapproachable—until this moment.
“Go home,” Mel admonished her. “Whatever your story, it can wait until morning.”
“Absolutely,” she said, hurrying to get back inside her car. The wind had picked up and she found she was shaking. She rolled the window down a crack. “Please quit following me.”
“I’ve got to head back to the office,” Mel said. “I’m trusting you to have the good
