This conversation was over.
“Rat who out to me?” Joe Covington leaned against the doorjamb. He stood in his four-thousand-dollar suit, briefcase in hand.
Parker flinched.
William couldn’t catch his breath.
They were in the basement of the building, but that didn’t stop William’s stomach from dropping about ten stories. “No one.”
“Glad you made it back in time. I saw your truck in the parking lot. Thought I’d check in with you.” Joe shoved a hand into his slacks pocket. “Can’t believe you’re still driving that old thing.”
William continued to unload the equipment, taking his time to organize the shelves as he worked. “Yeah, well, thatold thing’sgotten me where I need to go over the years.”
“Parker, how’s your sister doing?” Joe asked.
William paused. No one asked about Allie. She was expressly off-limits. Parker always made that clear.
“Same.” Parker shifted uncomfortably.
“Glad to hear she’s stable.” Joe nodded to William. “I trust you’ve been over all the documents I forwarded?”
“You sent them an hour ago, and I just got back. So, nope, haven’t gone through them.”
His father’s expression was unreadable. “You’ll want to do that before morning. Prior proper planning—”
“Prevents piss poor performance,” William finished for him and then went back to organizing.
“You got your story?” Apparently, his father was interested in chit-chat. Fantastic.
“Yeah.” William folded up the last of the equipment cases they’d taken with them.
“Housekeepers stealing stuff?” Parker snagged the inventory clipboard off the hook on the wall.
William shook his head. “Nope. Front desk lady stealing stuff.”
“Sweeps week is coming soon.” His father lifted his briefcase and tucked it under his arm. “Hope you found something you can use.”
Yeah. William rubbed at his neck. “I’ve got some ideas.”
His father leveled a stare at him. “Stories aren’t always organic. Good reporters know when to push boundaries.”
William raised an eyebrow at him. “Better reporters know that pushing boundaries doesn’t mean testing the waters of journalistic ethics for the sake of ratings.”
Yeah, William had been the victim of pushing ethical boundaries on television once. It had cost him years of his life to repair his image because the producer of a stupid reality show wanted better ratings.
“Ratings mean money. Money pays the bills. It’s all about the ratings, son.”
“Journalism is supposed to be about truth, not ratings,Dad.”
Dad stared at him for a long beat before he smiled nearly imperceptibly and walked away.
William stared into the blank space his father left behind. What had that whole thing been about anyway?
“What kind of story did you end up with?” Parker asked as he counted tripods.
William leaned against the shelf. “We got good video, and they double-booked our room. The front desk clerk broke into our room and took cash. I’ve got a load to work with.”
Parker nodded and ticked the boxes on the inventory form.
