I hated how much the second possibility made sense.
“You’ve got no soul, Reardon,” I said, already turning for the door.
“No,” Guy replied calmly. “I’ve got strategy. And vision. That’s what keeps us on air.”
I didn’t look back.
But the question followed me anyway.
Would it keep her alive?
I was pretty sure Guy didn’t care—as long as the numbers stayed high.
Chapter
Five
THE AUDITOR
Mallory seemed even more tired than usual during the past few evenings. There was something strained around her gorgeous eyes. I paused the program on a close-up to study her. They weren’t red-rimmed. The strain was still there.
Her extraordinary eyes were arresting anytime I had a chance to study them. The right eye was hazel, the left blue. The mixture of green and brown in her right made me think of a planet, while her left eye was the sea.
Worlds were housed within that stunning gaze. It was the application of smokier cosmetics that made me think something else had occurred. A new story? Problems at work? Problems in her personal life?
Hitting play, I switched my attention to her co-anchor, David Stratton. His bio indicated mixed race—African American and Asian. He was older than Mallory, by a good fifteen to sixteen years. Though their styles complemented each other well.
Salt-and-pepper hair, close-cropped with just a touch of curl. Warm brown eyes framed by laugh lines that suggest he’d seen it all—but still believed in people. One of the interesting anecdotesin his history detailed a childhood and coming of age split between two cultures and locales—Mississippi and Japan.
Education completed in the States with a bachelor’s degree from Morehouse College where he majored in journalism and then minored in international studies. A good combination. The man favored a tailored style and navy suits.
His more conservative dress also provided a rich contrast to Mallory’s edgier choices. She also wore suits, though her jackets could just as easily be a velvet blazer, and layered with chunkier accessories. On the desk she favored a flashier look to when she was in the field, where she managed to perfect the well-worn look, that was understated yet still bold.
Their byplay was open and friendly enough. He didn’t share the same strained edge to his countenance that she did. The relaxed manner eased some of my concern. Whatever was troubling her was not her co-anchor.
“Tonight, the small nation of Dvorus appears on the verge of collapse, as protests against the government’s harsh austerity measures have escalated into violent clashes. Citizens in the capital, Velgrad, have taken to the streets for weeks, demanding President Turgenov step down after a series of economic reforms have left the country in disarray…”
I tuned out Stratton and the story until Mallory took over.
“Protests within the country have turned into riots, with food and medicine in short supply. Refugees, many of them children, have swarmed over the border into Koselvia. The European Union is warning that the whole area could face a full-scale humanitarian disaster with the strain on their resources spilling over. Missy Vasquez is live in Velgrad with the latest…”
Images flashed across the screen and then they cut away to the on location coverage. Lifting a screwdriver, I divided my attention with the case I was currently disassembling and the screen.
A few more stories came and went with Mallory and David volleying the lead back and forth between them. As the newscast went on, she seemed—better. Still, there was something in her manner that niggled at me.
“Before we wrap for the evening, we have an update from Northbrook. The FBI has been called in with regard to a string of bodies—ruled suspicious deaths by the Cook County Medical Examiner’s office. Agents with the Behavioral Analysis Unit will be working closely with local authorities to identify and establish the pattern of alleged homicides with regard to the now seven bodies that have been found alongside unpaved trails in the region…”
She was talking about me. Lifting the cup of iced coffee, I took a long drink from it. The combination of sweet and bitter accompanied by the cold was just the brisk combination I needed.
Her beautiful eyes locked onto mine as she updated me.
“While no statements have been issued by either the FBI or the Northbrook police department, sources close to the story report that they believe these seven bodies are all connected to the same unknown subject or UnSub. Further investigation by this reporter has also identified four other bodies labeled suspicious deaths by the Medical Examiner’s Office and may be linked to these seven.”
Good girl. I raised my drink to her. She was so much more clever than the FBI. They had their process and their procedure.
“Until then, I am Mallory McBryan…”
“…and I am David Stratton.”
