Hard News

have this spic buddy of mine happens to be in Harrison try to move on Boggs but that doesn’t work. Then you get him out and things go to hell. He’s got his money and he’s gone.”
    The shock wave passed over her like a fever. So Randy was innocent—to the extent he could be innocent after having been mixed up with people like these. She swallowed. “Please let me go. I won’t say anything. I don’t care about Hopper. Just let me go, please? I’ll be quiet about it.”
    Maisel looked at Nestor, who was shaking his head no in a humorous, exasperated way. “Can’t, Lee. You can’t trust her.”
    Maisel said, “Rune, Rune …”
    Her teeth were pressed together and she felt anger, hot and searing. Oh, what she wanted to say to him … But the words were logjammed in her mind and even if she found the strength and the calm to sort them out she knew he wouldn’t comprehend them.
    Nestor stirred. She understood. This was his show now. He’d seen Lee weakening and knew it was time for the pro to take over, before more mistakes were made.
    Maisel said, “Jack, I don’t think—”
    The killer held up his hand, a patient school teacher. “It’s okay, Lee. I’ll take care of it.”
    Rune said, “No, please, I promise I won’t say a word.” Her eyes were in Maisel’s. He opened his mouth to speak then looked away and sat down in his chair.
    Nestor stood up. Pulled a gun out of his pocket.
    “These’re soundproofed rooms, right?”
    Maisel, looking away from Rune, nodded.
    The killer looked around and saw a large roll of dusty seamless: a ten-foot-wide paper used for backdrops. He dragged Rune toward it and shoved her down. Presumably to absorb the blood.
    Then he looked down at the gun and pulled the slide back, aimed it at her head matter-of-factly. He hesitated. “Do you ever see pictures?” he asked. “Pictures in your head?”
    Rune, crying, said, “What do you mean?”
    Nestor shook his head. “Never mind.” He started to pull the trigger.
    “Don’t move!” a man’s voice called.
    Bradford Simpson walked into the room, pointing a pistol at Jack Nestor. “Drop it!” he screamed.
    Nestor glanced over his shoulder in disgust and when he saw the hysteria in the young man’s eyes, tossed the gun on a nearby table. “Who the fuck’re you?”
    “Bradford!” Rune said, running toward him.
    The boy’s attention was wholly on Maisel now; he had no interest in Nestor, who watched the young man with some amusement.
    “You son of a bitch,” the young man cried. “You killed him! It was you!”
    Maisel glanced at the pistol, which was feet from his chest. He said nothing.
    “What’re you doing here?” Rune asked.
    “I’m going to kill him.” Bradford said.
    “Why?”
    “Because Lance Hopper was my father.”

    chapter 33    
     
    “ FATHER?” MAISEL ASKED, FROWNING.
    “My mother,” Bradford said, gazing at the reporter with angry eyes, “was one of the secretaries who worked at a station where my dad was a newsman twenty-two years ago. I was one of Lance Hopper’s illegitimate kids the tabloids were so happy to start rumors about. Only in my case it wasn’t a rumor. Four years ago my mother told me who my real father was. I came to see him.
    “At first he thought I wanted money or something. But then he realized I just wanted to meet him, get to know him. We spent some time together. I liked him. He was a good man at heart. He had his vices and weaknesses—” Bradford laughed. “I guess I was the product of one of those vices. But he was somebody I started to admire. I decided to become a journalist and switched majors. He was going to get me a job here at the Network but I said no, I wanted to do it on my own. I applied for the internship and got accepted and that gave us an excuse to spend time together. We had different last names so no one ever knew who I was. But then he was killed … It just about destroyed me. I assumed the story about what happened was true and let it go at that. But a few weeks ago I was doing mailroom duty, going through all the unsolicited mail, and I found Boggs’s letter. I read it a dozen times. I got to thinking that maybe there was more to my father’s death than what came out in court.”
    “You’re the one who put the letter on my desk,” Rune said.
    Bradford smiled. “You’re a crusader, Rune. Nobody else here’d give a damn about finding the real killer. But I had a feeling you would.”
    “You were using me