Deadline (Sandra Brown)

the truth, or prevent it from becoming public knowledge. But I also can’t conceive of how we’ll cope with the backlash. How will they live with that stigma?”
    She looked to both men for an answer, but, of course, none was forthcoming, because there wasn’t one. Dawson held her tortured gaze for several seconds, then turned away. Headly was the first to break the strained silence.
    “Okay, we’ll sit on the disclosure for as long as we can. In the meantime let’s try to find the sons of bitches. Did you come up with anything overnight, something you’ve remembered that could be useful? Where Jeremy might be hiding, who could be sheltering him?”
    “I made a list of his friends, ones whose names I could remember. But by the time he disappeared, Jeremy had alienated most of them.”
    “Where’s the list?”
    “Upstairs on my desk.”
    “Would you get it, please? Let’s take a look. I know it’s a long shot, but our time is running out. I still believe that as long as Carl and Jeremy don’t know—” Headly broke off when Dawson’s cell phone rang.
    He checked the LED. “Harriet.”
    Amelia looked to Headly for clarification. “ NewsFront ’s managing editor. A harpy.”
    Dawson answered, but his editor cut him off in midsentence. He listened, then asked tersely, “Did the call come through the switchboard? What time?” He looked at his wristwatch. “What exactly did he want to know?”
    She and Headly could tell by the tension in his posture that Harriet was passing on unwelcome news. After a full minute of listening, Dawson said, “Okay, thanks for letting me know. Yeah, yeah, I’m still trying to woo her.” He glanced at Amelia. “Right. She’d be a plum interview for sure. Which is why I gotta run now. Bye.” He clicked off and, after a beat, said, “A man identifying himself as Bernie Clarkson called her to get the skinny on me.”
    Headly hissed through his teeth. “Carl knows.”
    “At the very least he smells a rat.”
    Amelia sat down heavily in the nearest chair. “What did he say specifically?”
    Dawson recounted the conversation that his editor had repeated to him. “She said he sounded like a dotty old man. Cautious and suspicious. The last thing he asked was what or who had brought the Jeremy Wesson story to my attention. She told him she didn’t know, and she doesn’t. She believes that my interest was sparked by the Willard, Darlene, Jeremy love triangle and its deadly consequences, partially the result of his PTSD.”
    Headly said, “But ‘Bernie’ thought there might be more to your interest, and acted on that hunch.”
    “Apparently. He lied about the business card. I didn’t give him one. Which means that he went to the trouble to find out whom to call to check me out.”
    “Well, at least she didn’t tell him anything that would arouse more suspicion,” Amelia said. “The opposite, in fact. She only confirmed that you’re a journalist on the trail of a good story.”
    “I am that.” He stared thoughtfully into space for several moments, then rapidly punched in a number on his cell phone. “Glenda, love of my life, will you marry me? Okay, how ’bout we just have a hot affair? One-night stand, then. All right, all right, listen. Two things.
    “First, Harriet took a call at her desk around nine fifty this morning. I can’t remember the number of her extension, but…Is it any wonder that I love you? Can you get me the number of the caller? God, no, don’t go through her. Go through the main switchboard, and make it casual.
    “Second thing,” he paused and took a deep breath. “I need to go to jail without passing go. Can you help me?”
    *  *  *
     
    A female deputy assumed the role of nanny. The boys took to her immediately, especially when she set up a lengthy race track for their many cars. It wound from room to room and even up the staircase. They were enthralled with the makeshift ramps.
    Another sheriff’s deputy arrived with groceries to replenish Amelia’s refrigerator and pantry. Having provided for her sons made her feel better about leaving them while she returned to the city with Headly and Dawson.
    Headly was interested in seeing what remained of Jeremy’s effects that were still in her possession. “They’re in a strongbox in my apartment,” she told him. “Don’t expect too much. I’ve kept only some things the boys may want when they get older. His marksmanship medals. Things like that.”
    Deputies in unmarked