Betrayal on the Border

“A library?”

“The novel on the floor beside Agent Jackson was a Western, but he was marking his place with this bookmark promoting a memoir about the Vietnam War. A lot of soldiers came out of that war either addicted to drugs and/or savvy about drug distribution. Maybe the author has some connection to what happened on the Rio.”

Maddie frowned. “I doubt the connection could be that simple or direct. I mean, Jackson would have had all of a few seconds after he opened his front door to realize he was going to die. By what coincidence would he be holding a bookmark promoting a book written by his killer?”

“I can’t answer that question...yet.”

Maddie shrugged. “A slim lead is better than no lead.”

Get a lid on your enthusiasm, would you? Chris contented himself with thinking his frustration rather than speaking it aloud. Just as well. The waitress was approaching with their breakfasts. A gurgle from his stomach welcomed the savory smells of bacon, hash browns, fried eggs and pancakes. He winced toward Maddie’s choice of whole-grain toast, a fruit cup and a veggie omelet.

“You’ve been busy in the past year,” she said as she snagged a piece of omelet with her fork.

He raised his eyebrows toward her, and a flush worked its way from beneath her collar onto her cheeks.

She lifted her chin. “I mean you’ve gone after more stories than this one since last we met. You didn’t spend all your time looking for me.”

Chris savored a bite of hash browns then leaned back in his chair. “My hunt for you was private—on my own time. The station had plenty of what they considered new news for me to investigate and report.”

“Like the David Greene case?”

Ah, so that’s where this conversation was going. The lurid business of a Texas oil millionaire under suspicion of strangling his girlfriend had dominated the airwaves for quite some time. Too long, in his opinion.

“You followed that one, did you?” He drizzled syrup onto his pancakes, keeping half an eye cocked toward his companion.

Her stare skewered him. “I thought it was very interesting that your segments were the only ones that left room to believe the louse might be innocent.”

“You have something against unbiased media coverage?”

“I have something against killers getting away with murder just because they’re rich and can hire slick lawyers.”

“Is that what you think happened?”

“It’s what everybody thinks happened...except you! What fries my goose is that Greene didn’t end up charged with anything, even though he was found in the same room with the dead body.”

“Passed out cold, I might remind you.” Chris wagged his fork at her.

Maddie sniffed. “So the booze and pills knocked him out after he went nuts on his girlfriend.”

He laid down his fork and crossed his arms over his chest. “David Greene was tried and convicted in the court of public opinion, but it might do the public good to realize that there could be a reason why he was never formally charged.”

“Insufficient evidence. Blah. Blah.” She wrinkled her nose and took a swig of her orange juice. “I suppose it’s just as well that they wait to haul the slime into court until they have a case that will convict...if that ever happens.”

“I’ll be happy if enough evidence is uncovered to convict the right person—whoever that may be. Even David himself is unsure what happened that night.”

“David? First-name basis, huh? I noticed you were the only reporter Greene would allow to interview him. Huge coup for your network. You’re all about grabbing those.”

Chris frowned. She was back to needling him with her suspicions about his career-building motives for tracking her down.

She leaned toward him. “Do you have some sort of inside track with this creep?”

“If you must know,” he said on a sigh, “Davie Greene was a hooligan who lived in the same town as me when I was a snot-nosed kid. Way before his Apache grandfather died and left him a swatch of sand and cactus that turned out to be floating on a lake of oil. We went to the same elementary school. David was a wild child, but one thing I remember about him, he couldn’t tolerate anyone picking on girls or weaker kids. He ended up with more bloody noses than I can count from standing up to bullies who were tormenting other children. We weren’t close friends or anything, but I rather admired his rowdy gallantry.”

A sharp chuckle left her lips. “So this candidate for knighthood grew up, got rich quick and power corrupted his saintly character.”

“Saintly? Hardly. Just an underdog who defended underdogs.”

“And who you happened to know from back in the day. Lucky break for you and World News.”

Chris bit back angry but useless words. There was a lot more to the story, but nothing that stood much chance of changing her opinion of him or David. How could he explain that he owed it to his network, as well as the natural-born newsman inside him, to pursue stories how and where they were presented? But that didn’t negate his personal quest for answers about the Rio Grande Massacre, regardless of whether or not he was ever credited with another word of the coverage. Fat chance she’d put any stock in his higher motives when she saw him as someone who would take advantage of a personal connection with a killer in order to bolster his career and boost his network’s ratings.

Uneasy silence fell between them, and they both attacked their food like it was a mutual enemy. As they finished their breakfasts, Maddie’s head lifted, and her gaze fixed on something beyond his shoulder.

“Don’t turn to look,” she said softly, “but we’ve got company on your six.”

“My six?” Oh, yes, that meant behind him in military-speak. Chris swiveled his head and caught his breath. A pair of uniformed police officers were striding through the front door of the restaurant. He quickly turned back toward Maddie. “Cops!”

Her gaze held stern reproach. “I told you not to look.”

“I’m a reporter. I’m trained to look anywhere someone tells me not to look.”

She rolled her eyes.

“Where are they now?”

“Heading for us like we’re a pair of homing beacons.” Her face went grim. “You’d better hope they don’t arrest us on the spot. Forget a charge of tampering with a crime scene. What you’ve got in your pocket will convict us of murder in any court of law.”

FOUR

Maddie stared at the morsels remaining on her plate as doom trod closer...closer. Her muscles tensed and tingled into combat mode. Clearly, her body wasn’t getting the memo from her common sense. There was no way she could resist arrest.

Even if submitting to lockup meant certain death?

The policemen reached their table and strode past with scarcely a glance in their direction. Maddie’s head went light as a helium balloon. Then she remembered to breathe.

Chris sent her a wicked grin. “Don’t look now, but the officers have taken a table on your six. Guess they’re here for breakfast like the rest of us law-abiding citizens.”

Maddie scowled. “Let’s get out of here while the getting is good.”

She began to swivel out of her chair, but a shadow loomed over them and froze her in her seat. One of the officers. Her throat closed against an involuntary squeak.

The stocky man gazed down at them—well, at Chris anyway—thick brows drawn together. “Excuse me, but would you be Christopher Mason from World News?”

Chris leaned back in his chair and answered the man’s stare with a steady, cool expression. “That would be me. What can I do for you, officer?”

Maddie’s teeth ground together. If Chris possessed this level of acting ability, she was right to suspect he could be hiding his complicity in the Rio Grande Massacre and playing her for a story at the same time. Then why did that conclusion feel so wrong in her gut? She shook herself inwardly. Better to keep listening to her head—safer for everyone if she trusted no one.

The policeman scratched under his ear and offered a small grimace. “Are you aware that the vehicle you rented at the airport blew up yesterday?”