4 Shot Off The Presses Read online

  “It got a thousand hits,” Duncan repeated the number, in case we hadn’t heard it the first three times he said it.

  “Yeah? And Avery’s story on the freeway shooter got a hundred thousand,” Fish replied. “You see the difference there?”

  “Yes, I see how great Avery is,” Duncan snarled. “She’s wonderful and great and we should all bow down to her.”

  “Only when I’m wearing a tiara,” I shot back.

  Duncan turned to Brick. “It’s good to have someone here that sees the kind of person she really is.”

  Brick didn’t look impressed with Duncan’s statement. “I don’t like her,” he said. “I definitely don’t like you, though.”

  “What?” Duncan’s mouth dropped open in surprise.

  “There’s a reason they call you the office douche,” Brick said. “The name fits – although you don’t smell like a summer’s eve.”

  Duncan closed his mouth and then opened it again. No sound came out. I wondered if Brick had rendered him speechless – which sort of made me like him. “I’ll be down in human resources,” Duncan said finally. “Filing complaints against all three of you.”

  “What did I do?” Fish asked.

  “You let her talk to me that way.”

  Fish shook his head. “Whatever.”

  “I’ll be running this place one day,” Duncan announced. “And you’ll all be sorry about the way you treated me when I am.”

  “Ah, a newspaper of one,” I replied.

  Duncan flounced out of the room, making a deliberate right down the hallway to prove that he really was going to human resources. Fish turned to me when he was gone. “Do you have to send him over the edge every time you’re in a room with him?”

  “It’s so easy.”

  “Yeah, well he’s crazy and you know what crazy people do when they’re challenged,” Fish said.

  “Act crazy?”

  “Exactly.”

  I turned back to Brick. “I have to say, while I find you to be an absolute pain, the way you poked him was pretty funny.”

  Brick smiled at me, the first real smile he’d ever sent in my direction. “You’re not bad yourself.”

  “Do you need something, Brick?” Fish turned to him.

  “Just to tell you that I am going to take tomorrow off,” Brick said. “I’ll work Sunday, but I’m going to take tomorrow and get some hunting in.”

  “What are you hunting?” I asked.

  “Guinea hens.”

  “What’s a guinea hen?”

  “A really loud and obnoxious bird. My neighbor has a gaggle of them.”

  “You’re not killing your neighbor’s guinea hens, are you?” I asked suspiciously.

  “Who knows?” Brick had a mysterious smirk on his face. “Who knows where I’ll find them.”

  When he was gone, I turned back to Fish. “Do you ever think that this whole newsroom is just one big psych experiment?”

  “You would be one of the biggest experiments,” Fish said, waving me off. “Now either do some work or leave. I think you’ve been enough of a distraction for the day.”

  Yep, my work here was done.

  Twenty-One

  Since there was no one left to irritate at work, I texted Eliot and waited for him to pick me up. When I slid into his truck, I plastered my best “you want to do me a favor” look on my face and waited.

  Eliot didn’t immediately take the bait.

  “What’s your boss say?”

  “He said that I need to stop irritating Duncan to the point of no return.”

  “What?” Eliot blinked hard – twice. “You had time to irritate Duncan?”

  “And Brick.”

  “Who – or what – is a Brick?”

  “He’s the new paginator in the sports department.”

  “And his name is Brick?” Eliot looked doubtful, like I had given him the nickname or something.

  “I guess is name is actually Brandon Richard – or something like that – and he shortened it to Brick himself.”

  Eliot considered my explanation for a second and then shook his head. “You’re surrounded by crazy people.”

  “Do you count yourself in that statement?”

  “I’d have to be to put up with you,” he teased.

  “Speaking of that,” I started, yeah, segueways aren’t my strong suit. “I have something I need to do tonight.”

  “What?” Eliot was immediately suspicious.

  I squirmed under his pointed stare. “You see, I’m getting this, I don’t know, vibe from Brick.”

  “Vibe?”

  “Vibe,” I confirmed.

  “And what is this vibe telling you?”

  “That he’s a really angry guy,” I replied.

  “Are you sure you just don’t bring it out in him?”

  “That’s what he says,” I agreed. “I think it’s more than that, though.”

  “Be specific.”

  I told Eliot about Brick’s two failed marriages and the fact that he was happily humping his current squeeze in the parking lot of the paper whenever the mood struck. Eliot looked more amused than agreeable when I finished.

  “So, just because he’s going through his second divorce and having sex in a car, you think he’s a freeway shooter?”

  When he said it like that it sounded ridiculous. “He’s also an avid hunter with a military background.”

  “So are millions of other people,” Eliot pointed out.

  “His girlfriend just happens to be the secretary at the insurance office where the first victim worked,” I added.

  Eliot opened his mouth to unleash another retort and then closed it. “Well, that is kind of a coincidence,” he conceded. “You still need to connect the dots for me, though.”

  “Well,” I started. “Chelsea told me that her boss was always hitting on all the women at the office.”

  “Who is Chelsea?”

  “The girlfriend.”

  “Okay, continue.”

  “You should see all the women there,” I explained. “They all look like fashion models, not insurance agents.”

  “Maybe I should switch my coverage,” Eliot mused.

  “That’s not funny.”

  “No, I’m being serious,” he said. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while.”

  “You’re a tool.”

  Eliot smirked at me and pinched my hip as he turned onto Mount Clemens’ main drag. “So, what? You think the boss hit on this Chelsea and Brick went ballistic – there’s a sentence I never thought I’d hear myself say – and shot him for revenge? And, what, he got a taste for the killing and now he’s just killing random people?”

  “Maybe,” I shrugged.

  “That seems like a stretch,” Eliot said pragmatically.

  “There has to be some tie,” I pushed on. “I just have a feeling, in my bones, that something isn’t right about him.”

  “Is that feeling propelled by anything more than the fact that you don’t like him?” Eliot questioned me seriously.

  “I never said I didn’t like him,” I retorted.

  “That’s written all over your face, honey,” Eliot said easily, pulling into a parking spot in front of his pawnshop. “Let’s say, though, just for the sake of saying it at this point, that I agree with you. What does that have to do with whatever you have planned for tonight?”

  I smiled at him – widely this time. I knew I had already won. Despite himself, Eliot was curious about both Brick and Chelsea. “Well, once he gets off work tonight, he says he’s going hunting and I want to follow him and see if he’s really hunting guinea pigs or people.”

  “Guinea pigs?” Eliot wrinkled his brow. “Who hunts guinea pigs? They’re in cages.”

  “Or, a guinea hen, I guess he said. Is there a difference?”

  Eliot broke in to a wide smile. “That, right there, is why I find you so fascinating. Even when you’re a dumbass, you’re cute when you do it.”

  “I think I’v
e just been insulted.”

  AT A QUARTER to midnight, we were ready. And by ready, I mean dressed all in black. Eliot had initially balked when I suggested getting dressed up for our little excursion – something Carly never would have done. Once I promised to let him play G.I. Joe —in bed -- when we got back, though, he reluctantly agreed.

  “I feel stupid,” he said when we were parked in the restaurant parking lot across from The Monitor.

  “You look great,” I countered. I actually meant it. There was something about the tight black shirt and black cargo pants that was giving me a little thrill.

  Eliot cast me a sidelong look. “We could have sex in the parking lot, if you want?”

  “That would be hard to do while we’re following him,” I said.

  “I think I could manage both,” Eliot offered.

  “Let’s focus on one task at a time,” I suggested.

  “Fine. How long are we waiting for this guy?”

  “He’s supposed to get done at midnight.”

  “Are you sure he’ll actually leave at midnight?”

  “No,” I answered honestly. “Why would he hang around, though?”

  We sat in silence a few more minutes. I could feel Eliot getting irritated. “I’m not waiting here all night.”

  “I’m not asking you to.”

  “You better be ready to yell Go Joe at just the right moment,” he grumbled.

  “That’s a really weird fantasy.”

  “You wanted me to dress up like Han Solo and pretend to get frozen in a block of carbonite.”

  “I did not.”

  “You did, too.”

  “I did not.”

  “You did, too.”

  “I didn’t really ask,” I finally said. “I just said it might be fun.”

  “Is that him?”

  I followed Eliot’s gaze, scrunching up my eyes in the dark until I could get a clear view. “That’s him.”

  “He’s little.”

  “He’s small but solid.”

  “He looks like an angry little koala bear.”

  I thought about it a second. “That kind of fits.”

  “Put your seatbelt on,” Eliot instructed as he followed Brick onto the freeway. “Do you know where he lives?”

  “Somewhere in the northern communities,” I said. “Marysville or something.”

  “Marysville?” Eliot whined. “That’s like a half an hour away.”

  “We don’t know that’s where he’s really going,” I reminded him.

  “Fine.”

  We followed Brick north, two cars back the entire time, until I-94 narrowed to two lanes. “Maybe he is going home.”

  “You’re still going to be a soldier of fortune for me,” Eliot grimaced.

  “A deal is a deal,” I said. “You’re building this up so big; it’s bound to be a letdown now.”

  “Oh, it won’t be a letdown.”

  Once Brick exited the freeway, Eliot followed him. Instead of heading into a residential area, though, Brick was driving towards a strip mall at the north end of the town. “Where is he going?” Eliot mused.

  “There’s no access to the freeways around here, is there?”

  Eliot shook his head. “I don’t think so. I’m not really familiar with this area, but the freeway is back behind us. I don’t think he’s hunting people tonight.”

  “Do they sell guinea pigs at a strip mall for him to hunt?”

  Eliot fixed me with a hard stare. “You don’t know anything about hunting, do you?”

  “I know a lot,” I protested.

  “What do you know?”

  I opened my mouth to answer.

  “What do you know that you haven’t seen in the movies?” Eliot asked hastily. “Or from reruns of Duck Dynasty?”

  I snapped my mouth shut. He was such a know-it-all.

  Eliot continued to follow Brick into the parking lot, purposely shooting down three stores before he parked. We sat in the truck quietly for a few moments, just watching Brick’s truck. The lot was relatively busy for this time of night, but I figured most of the cars were there for the sports bar at the corner of the strip mall. After about five minutes, another car pulled into the parking lot. It was too dark to see who the driver was, but I could make out a dark figure exiting the driver’s side door of a small white Escalade and climbing into the passenger side seat of Brick’s truck.

  “What do you think?” I asked Eliot.

  “It’s weird.”

  “Besides that? You think it’s some sort of drug deal or something?”

  “Now he’s a drug dealer?” Eliot looked dubious.

  “He might be,” I said primly.

  Eliot blew out a frustrated sigh. “Stay here. I’ll try to get a closer look.”

  “Don’t you think that will be obvious?”

  “It will be less obvious if I do it than if you do it. At least he won’t recognize me.”

  “Be careful.”

  Eliot fixed me with an icy look. “I’m always careful.”

  I watched as Eliot carefully slid between several vehicles as he made his way towards Brick’s truck. He was using the other vehicles to hide his approach, I realized. The fact that he was dressed in black – my idea, mind you – was helping him hide in the shadows.

  I let my attention momentarily drift from Eliot and land back on Brick’s truck. I couldn’t be sure but it looked like it was moving. No way. Here, too?

  I jumped out of Eliot’s truck with the intention of stopping him. I took a more direct route towards Brick’s truck and pulled up short when I saw Eliot was staring into the truck’s window from about three feet away.

  “I don’t think it’s a drug deal,” I hissed.

  “They’re having sex.” Eliot looked disgusted. “You have me following people that are meeting up in a parking lot – in fricking Marysville – to have sex.”

  “Well, how was I supposed to know?”

  “You knew he liked to have sex in parking lots?” Eliot’s voice had risen an octave. “This wasn’t exactly a surprise to you.”

  “Like I could have known this would happen,” I shot back.

  The rocking in the truck had abruptly stopped and the occupants – both in various states of undress – were in a sitting position and glaring at Eliot and I from inside the truck. I gulped when I met Brick’s hard gaze. This wasn’t going to be good.

  Brick opened the driver’s side door and jumped out of the truck, slamming it hard behind him as he did. His shirt was unbuttoned – good grief he is hairy – and his face was alive with a furious shade of red that I didn’t even know existed. “Are you following me?”

  Brick was only about two feet away from me when Eliot moved in between us. “It was a mistake.”

  “What was a mistake? That bitch following me? Getting into my personal business?” Brick was clenching his fists at his sides.

  Eliot extended his hands and physically pushed Brick back a few feet. “She’s sorry. We’re leaving.”

  “You don’t put your hands on me,” Brick erupted. “I’m a veteran. You don’t put your hands on me. No one puts their hands on me! I’m a bloody veteran, for crying out loud!”

  Eliot narrowed his eyes. “So am I. You’re being a dick, though. And I’m not going to let you touch her.”

  Brick was seething, his chest heaving as he fought to catch his breath. “Are you her girlfriend?”

  Eliot didn’t rise to the bait. “I said we’re leaving.”

  “I knew she was a lesbian. I just didn’t know her girlfriend would have such long and pretty hair.”

  Eliot clenched his jaw but he didn’t turn around. He grabbed my arm and started to lead me away.

  I heard another door slam shut and turned around to see that Chelsea had exited Brick’s truck and was watching us. “That’s the girl that came to the office to ask questions,” she said to Brick.

  Uh-oh. “Hey, Chelsea,” I offered lamely.

  “Are you following Brick
?”

  “No, we were just at the bar,” I lied.

  “He seems to think you were following us,” Chelsea said dubiously.

  “He’s a little paranoid.” Eliot was steadily trying to pull me away so I waved half-heartedly at Chelsea. “Sorry to ruin your night.”

  “You better protect your little girlfriend there,” Brick shouted out. “She’s not going to live long after something like this. She’s got a whole shitstorm that’s going to come down on her – and she deserves it.”

  That was it. That was Eliot’s breaking point. He swung around and smashed a fist into Brick’s face. The look of surprise that registered on Brick’s features might have been comedic under a different set of circumstances. When the punch was followed by a steady stream of blood dripping from Brick’s nose, though, I realized that I really had pushed this one too far.

  Chelsea looked horrified and rushed to Brick’s side. “Oh, honey, are you okay?”

  “I’m going to kill you both,” Brick howled from the ground, where he was busy trying to staunch the flow of blood that was covering the front of his shirt.

  Eliot glanced down at me. “You’re a lot of work.”

  “This might have gotten out of hand,” I admitted.

  “A whole lot of work.”

  Twenty-Two

  The next morning I woke up with a crick in my shoulder – from pretending to be an international spy for Cobra Command, something that turned out to be more fun than I initially envisioned – and a pain in my head that had more to do with the embarrassment I would be facing once I had to see Brick again than anything else.

  I texted Fish, telling him I would be checking some stuff out on my own today, and then rolled over to meet Eliot’s warm, chocolate eyes. He was laughing.

  “What?”

  “Don’t want to see Brick?”

  “Not really,” I hedged. “I just thought a day to cool down would do him good.”

  “You do realize that he’ll probably tell everyone at the office what happened, and you’re going to come off as a crazy stalker in this scenario?”

  “Actually, I don’t think he’ll tell anyone,” I said smugly.

  “Why?”

  “Because then he’s going to have to admit what he was doing in a parking lot at one in the morning,” I explained. “And, if he somehow leaves that part out, he knows I’ll tell everyone what he was doing – and I’ll probably make up stuff to make it worse. He still thinks we don’t know he’s been doing the same thing in The Monitor’s parking lot.”