Bannon Brothers by Janet Dailey Page B

phone call. Don’t go. Just stay right there.”
    Clearly hot to pursue this idea, Kelly was out of the chair with her cell phone in hand before she ever finished talking. Amused by her avidity, Bannon sat back in his chair and sipped at his coffee to disguise his study of her.
    After taking a few steps away from him for privacy, she partially turned her back to the table, punched a couple of keys on the cell phone pad, and raised the phone to her ear. The connection was almost instant as she started talking in quick, hushed tones.
    As conversations went, it was short, but television news had a reputation for brevity. Judging by the Cheshire cat–like uplift to the corners of her mouth when she walked back to the table, Bannon guessed that she had been successful.
    â€œThat was my producer I called.” Resuming her seat, she reached for her cup. “She liked my idea.”
    â€œGood.”
    Her dark eyes danced with amusement as she smiled at him over the rim of her cup. “You might not think so when you hear what it is.”
    â€œWhy?” What is it?” he asked, suddenly on guard.
    â€œFor an interview with you to be part of the piece.”
    â€œMe?” he blurted in stunned disbelief.
    â€œRemember that weekend we spent at Virginia Beach?”
    â€œWhat about it?” Caution was in the flatness of his voice.
    â€œI don’t think I ever showed you the picture I took.” Kelly rolled the cup between her hands and studied him with suppressed amusement. “I know you’re not conceited, but you’re very photogenic. In the interview you’re going to come across as tough and sexy. And that sells just as well as blood and guts.”
    â€œYeah, well—you know that I can’t divulge any specific information. About all I could do is comment on police procedure in cold cases such as this.”
    â€œNo problem.” A shoulder lifted in an eloquent shrug. “Do you agree to the interview?”
    The wheels had already been turning, so his hesitation was minimal. “On one condition.”
    Kelly cocked her head, intrigued by his response. “What’s that?”
    â€œThat I’m guaranteed to get a look at the viewer responses you receive.”
    Her interest sharpened, all her reporter instincts surfacing with a rush. “Are you going after the reward, Bannon?”
    Was he? After his conversation with Doris, Bannon admitted to himself that the reward was not entirely out of reach.
    â€œLet’s just say I’m curious.”
    He could tell that Kelly didn’t buy his answer. She paused fractionally, then gave him a decisive nod. “All right then. You’ve got a deal.”
    â€œGood.” Something told him that she hoped to extract a price for this favor later on.
    â€œAre you free to do the interview this morning?”
    It was Bannon’s turn to shrug. “Why not?” Now that he’d agreed to it, he was eager to get it over with.
    â€œThen let’s go.” Kelly rose.

    The local television station was two blocks from the espresso bar. Kelly led him into its dim and cool inner sanctum and handed him over to her producer, a fortysomething, no-nonsense woman by the name of Carla Frazier. With a smile and a wave Kelly was gone.
    The producer motioned to a chair in front of her desk. Bannon sat down as he made his usual visual survey of his surroundings. There on the monitor screen was a photograph of a little girl. Bannon recognized it immediately as being identical to one he’d seen in the Ann Montgomery file. Carla Frazier hadn’t wasted any time retrieving information about the case following Kelly’s phone call.
    â€œIt’ll be a few minutes before they’re ready for you in the studio,” she informed him. “The questions are all scripted. Try to keep your answers short.”
    â€œNo problem.” Bannon had testified in enough court cases to know that you