Private Scandals

understand. “You don’t have any say in this, Deanna. It’s my choice.”
    “You weren’t even going to tell me. You were just going to make some lame excuse about why the trip was canceled. You’d have lied to me.”
    He’d have killed for her, he thought, and shrugged. “Now that’s not necessary.” He leaned back in the chair, steepled his fingers. Though he was wearing a sweater and jeans, he looked every inch the star. “How did the show go this morning?”
    “Stop it. Just stop it.” She whirled, jabbing a finger at Barlow. “You can order him to go, can’t you?”
    “I thought I could.” He lifted his hands, let them fall. “I came from New York hoping to make him see reason. I should have known better.” With a sigh, he rose. “I’ll be in the newsroom for the next hour or so. If you fare any better than I did, let me know.”
    Finn waited until the door clicked shut. The sound was as definitive as that of the bell in a boxing ring. “You won’t, Deanna, so you might as well accept it.”
    “I want you to go,” she said, spacing each word carefully. “I don’t want our lives to be interfered with. It’s important to me.”
    “You’re important to me.”
    “Then do this for me.”
    He picked up a pencil, ran it through his fingers once, twice, then snapped it neatly in two. “No.”
    “Your career could be on the line.”
    He tilted his head as if considering it. And damn him, his dimples winked at her. “I don’t think so.”
    He was, she thought, as sturdy, as unshakable and as unmovable as granite. “They could cancel your show.”
    “Throw out the baby with the bathwater?” Though he wasn’t feeling particularly calm, he levered back, propped his feet on the desk. “I’ve known network execs to do dumber things, so let’s say they decide to cancel a highly rated, profitable and award-winning show because I’m not going on the road for a while.” He stared up at her, his eyes darkly amused. “I guess you’d have to support me while I’m unemployed. I might get to like it and retire completely. Take up gardening or golf. No, I know. I’ll be your business manager. You’d be the star—you know, like a country-western singer.”
    “This isn’t a joke, Finn.”
    “It isn’t a tragedy, either.” His phone rang. Finn picked up the receiver, said, “Later,” and hung up again. “I’m sticking, Deanna. I can’t keep up with the investigation if I’m off in Europe.”
    “Why do you need to keep up with it?” Her eyes narrowed. “Is that what you’ve been doing? Why there was a rerun last Tuesday night? All those calls from Jenner. You’re not working on In Depth, you’re working with him.”
    “He doesn’t have a problem with it. Why should you?”
    She spun away. “I hate this. I hate that our private and professional lives are becoming mixed and unbalanced. I hate being scared this way. Jumping every time there’s a noise in the hall, or bracing whenever the elevator door opens.”
    “That’s my point. That’s exactly how I feel. Come here.” He held out a hand, gripping hers when she walked around the desk. With his eyes on hers, he drew her into his lap. “I’m scared, Deanna, right down to the bone.”
    Her lips parted in surprise. “You never said so.”
    “Maybe I should have. Male pride’s a twitchy business. The fact is, I need to be here, I need to be involved, to know what’s happening. It’s the only way I’ve got to fight back the fear.”
    “Just promise me you won’t take any chances, any risks.”
    “He’s not going after me, Deanna.”
    “I want to be sure of that.” She closed her eyes. But she wasn’t sure.
     
    After Deanna left, Finn went down to the video vault. An idea had been niggling at him since Marshall’s murder, the notion that he’d forgotten something. Or overlooked it.
    All Barlow’s talk about responsibilities, loyalties, had triggered a memory. Finn skimmed through the black forest of video cases until he found February 1992.
    He slipped the cassette into the machine, fast-forwarding through news reports, local, world, weather, sports. He wasn’t sure of the precise date, or how much coverage there had been. But he was certain Lew McNeil’s previous Chicagoconnection would have warranted at least one full report on his murder.
    He got more than he’d hoped for.
    Finn slowed the tape to normal, eyes narrowing as he focused in on the CBC reporter standing on the snowy