and take a load off," she said as she backed into her home.
The
front hallway of her home was covered with pictures I knew she had taken on
assignments. As we went down the hallway, I stopped and looked at a few of her
pictures. She had a gift for capturing the emotion of the moment on people's
faces.
"Remember
this one?" she asked, pointing to a black and white.
I
laughed when I saw it. "Was this in Chiapas?" I asked.
"Yeah,
remarkably I got that camera back and this was on the last roll I shot. Cute,
huh?"
There
I was, frozen in time, aviator sunglasses pushed up on my head, smiling and
holding an Indian child, both of us waving at the camera. It had been taken the
morning of the military attack on the village, and I wondered what had happened
to that child.
"I've
looked better." I frowned.
"You
were very cute," she said with a wink. "And happy."
"Long
time ago."
I
followed her into the living room and sat down on the couch.
"So
what can I do for you, Jo?" Stevie asked as she sat in a recliner. "I
know you don't make social visits."
"What
are you up to these days, Stevie?"
"Not
much. Teaching a few photography classes at the local community college. Pretty
boring stuff. And you?"
"Retired."
"You?
Never!" she exclaimed.
"Yep.
Living back on my folks' ranch outside of Kerrville. For almost eighteen months
now."
"I
didn't think you'd ever leave the field."
"Well,
sometimes Mother Nature takes care of that for us."
"I
read that you were shot again at Kosovo." She frowned.
I
smiled at her. "Yeah. After that I caught a break and did about three
years of Stateside assignments. But then George W. decided to search for
weapons of mass destruction. I was tapped to be embedded with a front-line unit
in Iraq and decided that this old body couldn't handle much more lead, and it
was time to do a walk-away. Besides, photojournalism is a young person's
game."
"So
what brings you to the boonies today then?"
"Do
you remember me telling you about my son?"
"The
one you adopted with your ex?"
"Yeah.
He's gotten himself into a little trouble. He was working on a story and
someone tried to kill him. I promised my ex that I would try to find out who
might have been responsible. But the kid hates my guts because his mother and I
separated, and I can't get close to him personally."
"And
you need someone to get close and ask a few questions?"
"I'm
not really sure what the story is. Seems like nothing, but there has to be
something someone doesn't want found out. I need someone on the inside,
Stevie."
"Is
he a reporter?"
"In
San Antonio." I nodded. "For the Light. Sammy Gomez is one of their
photographers. I've talked him into taking a vacation for a couple of
weeks."
"And
you want me to poke around a little and see if anything turns up," Stevie
said with a smile. "Why not? Getting a touch of cabin fever anyway."
Chapter
Nine
FOUR
DAYS LATER, Stevie began working as a temporary employee of the San Antonio
Light covering crime, which there would never be a shortage of. I booked
adjoining rooms for us at the Marriott near the Riverwalk, figuring we might as
well relax and enjoy ourselves as much as possible. There were plenty of good
restaurants and bars along the Riverwalk, and even though Stevie was
technically working, I hoped that getting out a little would help her reenter
society. Every night she gave me a brief report on any information she thought
might be useful. Admittedly, placing her at the Light was a long shot, but I
was nearly at the end of my list of options without confronting Kyle directly.
Stevie had been on the job nearly a week before Kyle returned to work.
"I
can't believe I ever found this kind of work exciting," Stevie said after
our waiter had taken our order for two thick steaks, medium rare. "I feel
like a photographer for the coroner's office. I'm ready to see someone alive
and kicking."
"Thinking
of giving up photography?" I chuckled.
"Actually
I've been thinking about moving over to outdoor
The
front hallway of her home was covered with pictures I knew she had taken on
assignments. As we went down the hallway, I stopped and looked at a few of her
pictures. She had a gift for capturing the emotion of the moment on people's
faces.
"Remember
this one?" she asked, pointing to a black and white.
I
laughed when I saw it. "Was this in Chiapas?" I asked.
"Yeah,
remarkably I got that camera back and this was on the last roll I shot. Cute,
huh?"
There
I was, frozen in time, aviator sunglasses pushed up on my head, smiling and
holding an Indian child, both of us waving at the camera. It had been taken the
morning of the military attack on the village, and I wondered what had happened
to that child.
"I've
looked better." I frowned.
"You
were very cute," she said with a wink. "And happy."
"Long
time ago."
I
followed her into the living room and sat down on the couch.
"So
what can I do for you, Jo?" Stevie asked as she sat in a recliner. "I
know you don't make social visits."
"What
are you up to these days, Stevie?"
"Not
much. Teaching a few photography classes at the local community college. Pretty
boring stuff. And you?"
"Retired."
"You?
Never!" she exclaimed.
"Yep.
Living back on my folks' ranch outside of Kerrville. For almost eighteen months
now."
"I
didn't think you'd ever leave the field."
"Well,
sometimes Mother Nature takes care of that for us."
"I
read that you were shot again at Kosovo." She frowned.
I
smiled at her. "Yeah. After that I caught a break and did about three
years of Stateside assignments. But then George W. decided to search for
weapons of mass destruction. I was tapped to be embedded with a front-line unit
in Iraq and decided that this old body couldn't handle much more lead, and it
was time to do a walk-away. Besides, photojournalism is a young person's
game."
"So
what brings you to the boonies today then?"
"Do
you remember me telling you about my son?"
"The
one you adopted with your ex?"
"Yeah.
He's gotten himself into a little trouble. He was working on a story and
someone tried to kill him. I promised my ex that I would try to find out who
might have been responsible. But the kid hates my guts because his mother and I
separated, and I can't get close to him personally."
"And
you need someone to get close and ask a few questions?"
"I'm
not really sure what the story is. Seems like nothing, but there has to be
something someone doesn't want found out. I need someone on the inside,
Stevie."
"Is
he a reporter?"
"In
San Antonio." I nodded. "For the Light. Sammy Gomez is one of their
photographers. I've talked him into taking a vacation for a couple of
weeks."
"And
you want me to poke around a little and see if anything turns up," Stevie
said with a smile. "Why not? Getting a touch of cabin fever anyway."
Chapter
Nine
FOUR
DAYS LATER, Stevie began working as a temporary employee of the San Antonio
Light covering crime, which there would never be a shortage of. I booked
adjoining rooms for us at the Marriott near the Riverwalk, figuring we might as
well relax and enjoy ourselves as much as possible. There were plenty of good
restaurants and bars along the Riverwalk, and even though Stevie was
technically working, I hoped that getting out a little would help her reenter
society. Every night she gave me a brief report on any information she thought
might be useful. Admittedly, placing her at the Light was a long shot, but I
was nearly at the end of my list of options without confronting Kyle directly.
Stevie had been on the job nearly a week before Kyle returned to work.
"I
can't believe I ever found this kind of work exciting," Stevie said after
our waiter had taken our order for two thick steaks, medium rare. "I feel
like a photographer for the coroner's office. I'm ready to see someone alive
and kicking."
"Thinking
of giving up photography?" I chuckled.
"Actually
I've been thinking about moving over to outdoor
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