and baked potatoes. Beth closed the folder and suddenly seemed keen on loading her spud with butter, sour cream and bacon.
Raleigh added a few drops of dressing to her salad and a sprinkle of pepper to her potato. They ate for a few minutes in silence before Raleigh couldn’t stand it anymore.
“What’s so interesting?”
“Hmm?”
“You saw something in that folder and you said, ‘Hmmm. Interesting.’”
“Did I?” Beth pretended to look confused. “I thought you didn’t want to know.”
“Okay, I’m a big liar. I’m fascinated. There, satisfied?”
Beth grinned and opened the folder back up. “He was nominated for a Pulitzer. Did a piece on war orphans in Afghanistan.”
“I remember that story,” Raleigh said suddenly. “It ran in the Telegram ’s Sunday magazine, couple of years ago.” She apparently hadn’t paid much attention to who had written the piece, but now the details poured back into her mind. It was one of the most compassionate, emotional pieces of writing she’d ever read. Griffin hadn’t just reported a sad situation, he had immersed himself in it. Those children and their tragedy weren’t simply statistics to him. They were real people he’d taken the time to know.
The story had made her cry.
It was hard to dislike, or even dismiss, a man like that.
R ALEIGH TOLD HERSELF a million times that it didn’t make any difference whether he truly cared about his subjects or was an opportunistic paparazzo. He was not her concern anymore.
When she returned to the office, she had an email from Daniel advising her that Channel 6 had aired a small story during their Noon News about the handgun found in the water heater. Amazing how he always seemed to know when anything involving Project Justice aired or was printed or tweeted.
With a knot in her stomach, Raleigh watched the video clip attached to Daniel’s email. A female reporter with a heavy drawl interviewed the property owner who had found the gun when he’d replaced his water heater.
“I wasn’t living here at the time,” the neighbor said. “But it freaks me out that a murder weapon was right here under my nose.”
“Alleged murder weapon,” Raleigh murmured.
The report showed some photos of the rusty-looking gun, then focused on the homeowner’s over-blown emotions concerning the discovery.
At the very end of the piece, the reporter said only that the gun was too corroded for identification.
Huh. Second reporter to bring up the corrosion. Someone from the police department was feeding information to the press. It somehow made her feel better that Griffin wasn’t the only one who knew things. He didn’t have magical powers, he merely knew a blabbermouth cop.
But the media was wrong about one thing. Although the gun was corroded, it wasn’t beyond hope. Praktech Laboratories, a highly regarded independent lab that did specialized evidence analysis, was working on the weapon.
No one from the station had contacted her for information. In fact, Project Justice hadn’t been mentioned. Maybe that was a good thing. It was hard for her and the other investigators to do their jobs in a fishbowl.
Though she loved her work, Raleigh was glad when her workday was over and she could head home. She parked her Volvo in the garage beneath her building, then unlocked the steel security door and climbed the stairs to her third-floor apartment. Her heart lifted as she entered her beautiful oasis and saw Copper bouncing around on his hind legs, wanting to be held.
Raleigh picked up the little dog and pressed her face against the soft fur. Nothing relieved stress like a warm, furry little dog. She hugged him until he squirmed to get down.
“Did ya miss me, boy?” she asked.
Jason had given Copper to Raleigh as a gift not long before he died. They used to bring him to the office, where someone was usually around to take him out for walks and keep him company. Bringing him to work at Project Justice wasn’t practical,
Raleigh added a few drops of dressing to her salad and a sprinkle of pepper to her potato. They ate for a few minutes in silence before Raleigh couldn’t stand it anymore.
“What’s so interesting?”
“Hmm?”
“You saw something in that folder and you said, ‘Hmmm. Interesting.’”
“Did I?” Beth pretended to look confused. “I thought you didn’t want to know.”
“Okay, I’m a big liar. I’m fascinated. There, satisfied?”
Beth grinned and opened the folder back up. “He was nominated for a Pulitzer. Did a piece on war orphans in Afghanistan.”
“I remember that story,” Raleigh said suddenly. “It ran in the Telegram ’s Sunday magazine, couple of years ago.” She apparently hadn’t paid much attention to who had written the piece, but now the details poured back into her mind. It was one of the most compassionate, emotional pieces of writing she’d ever read. Griffin hadn’t just reported a sad situation, he had immersed himself in it. Those children and their tragedy weren’t simply statistics to him. They were real people he’d taken the time to know.
The story had made her cry.
It was hard to dislike, or even dismiss, a man like that.
R ALEIGH TOLD HERSELF a million times that it didn’t make any difference whether he truly cared about his subjects or was an opportunistic paparazzo. He was not her concern anymore.
When she returned to the office, she had an email from Daniel advising her that Channel 6 had aired a small story during their Noon News about the handgun found in the water heater. Amazing how he always seemed to know when anything involving Project Justice aired or was printed or tweeted.
With a knot in her stomach, Raleigh watched the video clip attached to Daniel’s email. A female reporter with a heavy drawl interviewed the property owner who had found the gun when he’d replaced his water heater.
“I wasn’t living here at the time,” the neighbor said. “But it freaks me out that a murder weapon was right here under my nose.”
“Alleged murder weapon,” Raleigh murmured.
The report showed some photos of the rusty-looking gun, then focused on the homeowner’s over-blown emotions concerning the discovery.
At the very end of the piece, the reporter said only that the gun was too corroded for identification.
Huh. Second reporter to bring up the corrosion. Someone from the police department was feeding information to the press. It somehow made her feel better that Griffin wasn’t the only one who knew things. He didn’t have magical powers, he merely knew a blabbermouth cop.
But the media was wrong about one thing. Although the gun was corroded, it wasn’t beyond hope. Praktech Laboratories, a highly regarded independent lab that did specialized evidence analysis, was working on the weapon.
No one from the station had contacted her for information. In fact, Project Justice hadn’t been mentioned. Maybe that was a good thing. It was hard for her and the other investigators to do their jobs in a fishbowl.
Though she loved her work, Raleigh was glad when her workday was over and she could head home. She parked her Volvo in the garage beneath her building, then unlocked the steel security door and climbed the stairs to her third-floor apartment. Her heart lifted as she entered her beautiful oasis and saw Copper bouncing around on his hind legs, wanting to be held.
Raleigh picked up the little dog and pressed her face against the soft fur. Nothing relieved stress like a warm, furry little dog. She hugged him until he squirmed to get down.
“Did ya miss me, boy?” she asked.
Jason had given Copper to Raleigh as a gift not long before he died. They used to bring him to the office, where someone was usually around to take him out for walks and keep him company. Bringing him to work at Project Justice wasn’t practical,
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