Yuletide Defender

When she climbed into her car and cranked the engine, she held her breath. To her relief, the motor purred to life. She really had to do something about a car soon. Hers had already exceeded its life expectancy by a few years. Maybe by this time next year she’d be driving a new vehicle. The Beacon was just the first step to success. If things went as planned, this job would be her springboard to a larger newspaper or even a television station. And stories of rival gangs killing each other just might be the ticket to jump-start the journey.

Rachel thought again of the mother’s fear for her son. Her own mother had dealt with many problems in raising Rachel and her sister, but gangs weren’t something they had to worry about. She couldn’t imagine what life must be like for that woman and her son. Maybe if she dug deeper into the killings, she would find something to help the police.

Matt’s warning drifted through her mind but she shook it away. There were reasons why she wanted to succeed at her job. No, had to succeed. She only had one choice—to go anywhere and talk to anybody to get the story she needed.

Rachel stared at the computer screen and scanned the article she’d just written once more before sending it to the copy editor. “It seems almost like a rewrite of the other murders,” she grumbled aloud.

She leaned back in her chair and tapped the desktop with a pencil. The police might believe gang violence was the reason for the similar killings, but according to what Matt had told her they still couldn’t be sure. With no clues left behind, the police didn’t appear to know where to turn. Gang members weren’t talking, and most residents who lived in the neighborhoods controlled by the groups were too afraid to tell what they knew.

Somebody in Lake City knew what was going on with these killings but so far no one had come forward. She reread the last two lines of the article she’d just completed. “It’s time for every resident of Lake City to say, ‘We will not stand quietly by and let the gangs destroy us.’ Only by joining forces can we safeguard the future and provide a secure way of life for our children and those who will come after us.”

Whether or not her call for unity would work, she didn’t know. All she could do was try to rally the citizens to fight what was happening around them. She sighed and, with a click of the mouse, sent the story on its way to the copy editor.

She picked up her coffee cup and took a drink just as the phone rang. Setting the cup back on the desk, she wedged the receiver between her ear and shoulder. “Rachel Long. May I help you?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I can help you.” Rachel’s eyes widened at the curtness in the man’s voice. This was no friendly call. She pushed her cup away, reached for a pencil and slid her notepad across her desk.

“Help me with what?”

“I been reading your stories in the paper.”

Rachel took a deep breath to still her thudding heart. “Which ones?”

“The gang murders.”

Rachel’s fingers flexed and gripped the pencil tighter. “I’m glad. We always like to hear from our readers.”

“I ain’t calling to brag on your writing. I gots a story I want to talk about.”

She poised the pencil above the pad. “And what’s your name?”

A low laugh came over the phone. “That don’t matter. Let’s just say I’m a confidential source. Okay?”

Rachel could almost hear her heart pounding. “That depends on what you have to tell me.”

“Oh, you gonna like this. ’Cause I got a story that’ll rock this city.”

“I’ll have to be the judge of that. Now tell me what you’ve got.”

“No way. You ain’t gittin’ this information over the phone. You gonna have to meet me in person.”

The sinister tone of the man’s voice sent chills down her spine. Matt’s warning flashed into her mind. Could this be a gang member? If so, she could be walking straight into trouble if she agreed to meet him.

On the other hand, if she didn’t meet him, she might be giving up the chance at the break she’d been waiting for. A huge story could get her name out there to influential people in the industry. When she weighed the pros and cons of the situation, she knew it was a no-brainer. She hesitated only a moment before she answered.

“Okay, where do you want me to meet you?”

“You know the City Park out on Highway 45?”

“Yes.”

“Meet me there at midnight. Go to the picnic tables by the lake and sit on the bench right next to the woods. And come alone. Understand?”

Rachel swallowed. “Yes.”

The caller disconnected with a click. Rachel replaced the phone and stared into space. Somehow she’d known since the first murder that this was the story she’d been waiting for—one that would set her apart as an investigative reporter. And one that would prove she was unafraid to pursue truth, no matter where it took her.

Dangerous or not, she had to go. This could be just what she’d been waiting for—her big break. Or it might be more—the tragic end of a promising career.

The bells in the pavilion tower across the lake chimed the midnight hour as Rachel climbed from the car. The familiar landscape looked very different than it did in the daytime, when families played together in the wide expanse. Rachel shivered at the stillness that enveloped her.

The distant rumble of thunder broke the silence. She glanced up at dark clouds rolling across the sky. The moon disappeared behind a cloud and the darkness deepened. The streetlamps around the lake cast a soft glow of light on the jogging trail that circled it. Tonight, however, there were no runners. She was alone.

She studied the park benches that dotted the grassy area in back of the picnic tables, then trudged toward them and scanned the dark forest beyond for signs of movement. Seeing nothing, she eased onto the bench where he’d instructed her to sit.

The leaves on the trees behind her rustled and she tensed. Was there someone there? She tilted her head to the side and listened. An owl hooted and she shivered.

How long should she give him to show up? She hugged her coat tighter and knew she’d stay until sunrise if she had to.

“Don’t turn around.”

She gasped in surprise as fingers clamped down on her shoulder. Fear oozed through her body and left a blanket of ice in its wake. “W-who a-are y-you?”

“Don’t make no difference what my name is.” His warm breath fanned the back of her neck.

Rachel struggled to breathe. “Then what shall I call you?”

“Like I said, just say I’m your confidential source.” He paused for a moment before he continued, “I been readin’ your stories ’bout gang members being killed. You done a good job reportin’ the facts.”

“Do you have some additional information for me?”

“Maybe.” His fingers tightened on her shoulder. “Let’s see now, in that last story, how many you say died?”

When Rachel didn’t answer, his index finger jabbed her. She gulped a big breath of air and sat up straighter. “Five before today. Now there’s six. All of them shot to death. The police think rival gangs are killing each other.”

The man behind her exhaled a long breath. “The popo don’t know nothing.”

Rachel frowned and tilted her head. “You mean the police?”

“Yeah.”

“What makes you think that”

“It ain’t what I think. It’s what I know.” His lips grazed her ear.

His nicotine-scented breath filled her nostrils and she turned her head away. “And what’s that?” Rachel asked.

“They’s two gangs here in Lake City, the Vipers and the Rangers. The Vipers, them are my brothers. We take care of our hood. The Rangers, they on the south side of town, and we don’t mess with them.”