The Gates of Winter - Mark Anthony [142]
“What happened?”
She looked away. “There was no warning. I was in the editing bay with Kevin, one of the photojournalists. We were cutting together a story we shot this afternoon.”
“One about the disappearances among the homeless?”
She looked back at him, her gaze calculating. “Yes, about the disappearances. Only when we were nearly done, Victor came in—he's the news director. He asked Kevin to leave us alone, then he told me to go clean out my desk. That was it. He didn't give me a reason. He just said I had fifteen minutes to leave, and that if I talked to anyone, he'd have security throw me out of the building. So I packed my box. And on the way out, I saw Victor was still in the editing bay, deleting all the footage Kevin and I shot from the video server.” She shook her head. “But why?”
The question wasn't for Travis. He answered all the same. “Because he's working for Duratek.”
She scowled at him, her makeup cracking. “What are you talking about?”
Travis had to be careful how he worded this; she had to believe him. “Something is wrong in this city, and Duratek Corporation is part of it. They're behind the disappearances.”
Ferraro stood up straight. “You have evidence of this?”
“No. I only . . . I know it's true, that's all, and I can prove it to you later. But first we have to get on TV. I have to get a message out to all the people of Denver.”
She rolled her eyes. “So that's it. You're just some nutcase who wants to spout off about his manifesto on TV.”
No, she had it all wrong. “Please, you've got to believe me. I'm not crazy.”
“Really? You sure could have fooled me.” She pulled a pack of cigarettes from a pocket, lit one up, and took a drag. “I know who you are, by the way. It took me a minute with the beard and the hair, but we showed your photo enough times on the news last fall. You're the guy the police were searching for, along with that doctor. You're Travis Wilder.”
He clenched his hands in his pockets. “So are you going to call the police?”
“I might. But you wanted to talk, so let's talk.”
Anger flooded him. “Why? So you can land a big scoop and get your job back? That's all you care about, isn't it—getting the story? That was why you cut off Sergeant Otero when he was trying to talk about the disappearances.”
“It's true, I did cut him off in that piece. Do you know why?” She tossed down the cigarette and stamped it out with a heel. “Otero does care about the disappearances, but he's one of the few who does, and I wanted people to get angry, to call the police, to force them to do something. Journalism isn't just about recycling information, Mr. Wilder. It's about getting a reaction out of people, making them care.”
His anger cooled into shame. “Did it?” he said finally. “Get a reaction?”
She didn't meet his gaze. “No.”
He nodded, then took a step closer. “They're afraid, Anna. The people of this city. Of every city in this country. They're not going to stand up against Duratek, not unless they know the truth.”
“Which you do,” she said with a skeptical glare.
“No, not completely. But I do know Duratek is linked to the disappearances. And I . . . I can show you something that might help you believe me.” He squeezed the iron box in his pocket.
She sighed. “Fine, let's pretend for a minute that you're not just an escaped mental patient with severe paranoia and a messiah complex, and that Duratek is somehow behind all of this. I can't say it would be a complete shock—journalists have been trying to dig up evidence of shady dealings at Duratek for years, only without luck. But even if you have evidence to prove it's true, there's still no place I can take the story.”
“What about another TV station?”
“No go. Victor has a lot of friends in this town. None of the other news directors will even talk to me now. Same goes for the editors at the newspapers.”
There had to be somewhere else they could go. “I don't understand.” His voice was a croak. “I thought news was about telling the truth.”
She laughed, a bitter sound. “You really are crazy, Mr. Wilder. Nothing