10th Anniversary - James Patterson [31]
Inez Fleming’s husband had arrived right then and told Inez not to talk to the press, and now, six hours later, Cindy was foundering in quicksand and running out of time.
Chapter 37
CINDY FLEXED HER FINGERS and tried out a headline: “Rapist Dopes and Dumps Victims.” She was typing her lede — Three women reported being raped and drugged when they awoke from a blackout — when her phone rang. She glanced at the caller ID.
It was Richie.
Should she take the call or let it go to voice mail? The time was 3:23. There was no time to talk to him. Not now. This was her only story and she had to work it.
On the third ring, she grabbed the phone.
“Can I call you back, Rich? I’m on deadline.”
“Just take a second,” he said, a playful tone in his voice. “There’s someone important I want you to meet.”
Cindy laughed, spun her chair around so that she wouldn’t see the clock. “Really? Who is this important person?”
“I’m not saying. Not right now.”
“What if it’s off the record?” Cindy asked.
“I like your style, Cin, but you still have to wait.”
“Bummer. Where are you now?”
“I’m on the street outside the Mark Hopkins, waiting for Lindsay. She’s with the Richardsons. Should be down in a second.”
Cindy pictured Richie leaning against the unmarked car, wearing blue like he always did, his soft light brown hair falling across his forehead.
“Any news on the baby?” she asked.
“Nope. We have miles and miles of not one fricking thing,” he said. “Lindsay is taking this one personally.”
“Don’t we all?” Cindy said.
“Damn right,” Rich said. “When you get home, put on something dressy. I’ll pick you up — Cin, I gotta go. I’ll see you later.”
“Wait. What time?”
“Seven, okay?”
“Perfect.”
Cindy wrote her story fast and with confidence, the way she did when there was no time to spare. She looked at the clock in the corner of her computer screen and saw that she could even manage a quick polish. The clock showed 3:59 when she pushed send. She shook out her hands and leaned back in her chair. Her story would be on the streets in the morning.
The cops would read it, and maybe the rapist would, too.
What would happen next?
Chapter 38
CINDY KICKED OFF HER SHOES in the small foyer, and removing her clothes as she walked into the bedroom, she dropped them on the bed as she walked to the shower. “Dressy,” Rich had said. She couldn’t even guess what he was planning. Where were they going and who was this important person she was going to meet?
The shower was hot and invigorating. Cindy kept her eyes closed and stood there, letting the water beat down on her head. She didn’t move at all, but her mind was in motion.
She was thinking about Richie — about how when she’d first met Lindsay’s new partner, he’d not only rocked her world, he’d knocked a few neighboring planets off course, as well. Yes, he was gorgeous, but thank God she’d been able to keep her lovesick wits together long enough to realize that Rich Conklin’s cover-guy looks were only the gift wrapping. He was a good person. He was intelligent. He was easy to talk to. He was protective. He was the one for her, most definitely. And he was mad about her, too.
Admittedly, there had been a time when she worried that Rich had a major crush on Lindsay. You could see the electricity when they were together. But when she’d asked, they’d both said, “No, no, no. We’re just partners.”
Now that she and Richie were living together, she worried about one thing only — that he would come home safely every night.
Cindy got out of the shower, dried her hair, and stepped into a small, black Nicole Miller dress with a deep neckline that Rich hadn’t seen her wear before. As she returned the hanger to the closet they shared, she thought about where she’d lived before she and Richie had found a place together.
Her old apartment building was on the border of two neighborhoods — one on the rise, the other on the edge