Silent Fall

longer investigations, which I enjoy, because there’s usually more to any story than what is seen on the surface."
    "That’s for sure."
    They exited on the third floor. After passing a vacant reception desk, they entered the main newsroom, where a couple of people were at work. Some of the desks were out in the open, whereas others were tucked away in cubicles, giving at least the appearance of privacy, although Catherine suspected that just about anything could be heard anywhere in the large room. Along one wall was a display of at least ten different television monitors that were each tuned to a different station. Most were on mute, with the dialogue running in taglines across the bottoms of the screens.
    Dylan pointed to several large offices around the perimeter of the room. "The anchors get those," he said. "As do some of the news producers. The main studio is downstairs on the first floor. There’s nothing happening there at the moment, but that’s where they’ll do the five-o’clock newscast. Sales and circulation are on the second floor, as well as accounting, personnel, and the mailroom."
    "Isn’t that the guy we saw on TV earlier?" Catherine whispered, tipping her head toward a nearby office. She felt a little starstruck by the fact that she was in a television studio, and the handsome morning news anchor was standing about ten feet away talking on the phone. With his slick good looks, dark hair, and blue eyes, Blake Howard could have posed for the cover of GQ. "Wow," she muttered. "Now, that’s a man who can wear a suit."
    Dylan sent her a disgusted look. "Yeah, that’s what all the girls say. Howard is all flash, no substance. The guy can’t talk without a script and a teleprompter."
    "Maybe I can think of better things to do than talk to him," she said with a grin. "Sometimes all you want is flash. Surely you’ve felt that way on occasion."
    "Not about Blake. He’s not my type."
    "Very funny."
    "Damn, he saw me," Dylan said.
    "Oh, my God, he’s coming over here," she said, nervous at the prospect.
    "Of course he’s coming over here," Dylan muttered. "You’re a woman, and he can’t resist the opportunity to schmooze."
    Sure enough, Blake was heading their way. He gave Dylan a curt nod and then blessed Catherine with his trademark smile. His teeth were movie-star white, his skin tan, his hair styled. His appearance was perfect: not one blemish on his face, not one hair out of place. He’d probably spent more on his suit than she had on her car.
    "Hello, I’m Blake Howard," he said to Catherine, extending his hand.
    "Catherine... Hilliard," she stammered, feeling a little dazed by the man’s smile. "I... I just saw you on TV."
    His fingers squeezed hers. "So, you’re a fan," he said with pleasure.
    "She doesn’t even live in the area," Dylan cut in. "She can’t help you increase your numbers. What’s happening today? Any breaking news stories?"
    Blake shrugged, his gaze lingering on Catherine as he slowly let go of her hand. "The usual stuff. A couple of murders, a carjacking, a bus accident, the standard Middle East crap."
    Catherine was surprised at Blake’s lack of respect or even interest in the news. He rattled off devastating incidents with complete disregard for their seriousness. Perhaps he’d read the news so long he was unaffected by it. She could never do his job -- or Dylan’s, for that matter; she’d get way too involved in every story.
    "If you like, I can give you a personal tour of the studio," Blake said to Catherine. "Dylan doesn’t know his way around the anchor desk."
    "What’s to know? There’s a desk and a chair and a dummy that sits in it," Dylan shot back.
    Blake’s eyes glittered with anger, and it seemed he was searching for a quick comeback, but as the seconds ticked away his face just grew redder and redder. "Well," he sputtered.
    Catherine jumped into the breach. "Don’t we need to get going?" she said to Dylan, grabbing his arm. "It was wonderful to meet you, Mr. Howard. I’ll look forward to seeing you on the news."
    "You could do better than Sanders," Blake said, nodding at Dylan again. "He’s not going anywhere."
    "Except away from you." Dylan shrugged Catherine’s hand off his arm and headed across the room at a brisk pace.
    "Good heavens. Do you two always snap at each other like that?" Catherine asked, jogging to keep up with