Henry finally stopped walking and turned to face Jamie. “You’re one of two reporters who doesn’t have something lined up already for tomorrow, and I feel like you’re ready to get off the fluff pieces. That’s why you moved to Boston, isn’t it?”
Jamie nodded vigorously. “Yes! I am… I mean, I did.” She beamed at Henry. “Thank you. I won’t let you down.”
Henry smiled back. “See that you don’t.”
Two
Jamie didn’t sleep much. Her brain had been racing since Henry handed her the blue folder filled with scene photos, incident reports, and a few grainy stills from doorbell footage. A suspect was found asleep in the backyard, covered in blood. A neighbor who claimed he was out of his mind. A possible mention of drugs. It didn’t feel open and shut to Jamie, not by a long shot. But now, seated in the newsroom conference room, she was back to business, adrenaline already starting to hum.
“Jamie? Are you listening?”
The stern voice from across the meeting room made her head shoot up, eyes shifting away from the scribble on her notepad she’d been drawing. A blush crept across her pale skin as she made eye contact with the news director.
“I am. Just trying to nail down the best angle for the Medford case,” Jamie replied, brushing her fingers across the corner of the blue folder still sitting in front of her. “I’ve been turning it over all night.”
“You seemed so lost in your thoughts. I’m sure the team would like to hear them.” Aimee leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms, staring expectantly at the reporter.
“I keep coming back to the suspect. Everyone else is glued to the family’s grief, but what if there’s more going on with him? The neighbor statements were scattered. That bit about the drugs—if there’s any weight to that, it shifts the narrative.”
“Well, I hardly think that’s an appropriate take on such a violent story.” The news director sat up straight, her eyes narrowing as her brow furrowed.
“Respectfully, I’m not saying he’s innocent,” Jamie said quickly. “But the neighbor’s statement didn’t line up with the officer’s report, and the doorbell footage only showed him stumbling into the yard. Something isn’t adding up yet.”
Aimee tilted her head slightly, studying Jamie’s face. Then, with a nod toward the man seated farther down the table, she said, “Henry, can you make sure Jamie has everything she needs from the file? After the presser, see if she can get a moment with Calhoun. If there’s anything we can get that’s off script, I want it.” She looked back at Jamie. “And, Jamie, I expect results from this. If you can’t deliver, you should know that you’re still expected to turn a story today. I won’t accept anything less.”
A grin broke out across Jamie’s face, and she nodded. “Of course, Aimee.”
Aimee suddenly leaned forward and pushed herself out of her chair. “That should wrap it up then. I’ll be in my office should you need anything. Good luck today!” With a clap of her hands, the woman was out the door before the room even began to buzz. While collecting her things, Jamie heard a throat clear from above her right shoulder.
Henry stood beside her with his usual no-nonsense expression.
“Here,” he said, placing a purple sticky note with ten digits scrawled on it onto Jamie’s notepad. “Erin Calhoun, the PIO from Boston PD, you’re meeting at the presser. Let her know I gave you her cell.”
Before Jamie could even say thank you, Henry was already gone. She looked down at the sticky note and decided to make the call from her desk.
She stood from her chair and left the meeting room, ignoring the glares from her coworkers. She’d only been at WCVB for a month and had already ruffled a few feathers. Reaching her desk, she dropped the notepad onto it and plopped into her chair.
She logged onto her computer and opened a new Google Doc. She quickly typed out a title for the story and copied the phone number into the document. She tapped her fingers against the keys while she thought.I don’t know that I’ve seen her name in anything yet.She looked to her right and found Harper Montgomery at the desk beside her, one of the more experienced reporters on staff and someone Jamie had started to trust despite onlybeing at WCVB for a few weeks.
“Hey, Harp?” she said quickly, turning in her seat to face the woman. Harper had the kind of face Jamie believed was made for TV. Her tight dark curls framed her thin face perfectly, and her brown eyes had a hidden depth Jamie wished her green ones did. Harper glanced up from her computer in Jamie’s direction.
“What’s up, J?” She didn’t look up from what she was typing, but that didn’t bother Jamie; they were all on a deadline.
“Erin Calhoun… Have you ever worked with her?” Jamie asked carefully, looking back down at the purple sticky note. That seemed to get Harper’s attention.
“Calhoun. Yeah. She’s… intense,” Harper said, a flicker of sympathy crossing her face. “Don’t let her tone throw you off. She’s sharp, not exactly warm and fuzzy.”
Jamie’s face fell quickly. “Oh… is she that tough?”
Harper responded with a laugh. “More like that much of a bitch.” She shook her head. “God, I swear, Calhoun needs to get laid. It might help with the stick up her ass.”
Jamie nodded as the other reporter spoke. “Gotcha. Thanks.” They both turned back to their respective computers. Determined to make something happen and prove Aimee wrong, she picked up her desk phone and typed in the number. It rang twice before a sharp voice answered.
“Calhoun.” That was it, just two syllables. Jamie rolled her eyes and turned on the charm.
“Hi, Miss Calhoun! This is Jamie Garrison with WCVB. I was hoping for a moment of your time to talk about the murder case in Medford.”
“How did you get this number?” came the curt reply.
