Fatal Vendetta

EXTRACT (#litres_trial_promo)

COPYRIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)

ONE (#ulink_bcce28fa-e976-570f-b713-234395fd922f)

Elizabeth Kramer’s heartbeat skipped into double time as the fire trucks sped around her KBLK news van. She didn’t like the idea that another tragedy had struck Badger, Montana, but knowing that she might make a difference through her news reporting created a sense of excitement in her.

“The police scanner was a good investment.” Elizabeth looked over at her cameraman, Dale, who sat behind the wheel.

“Good thing you had it on.” Dale kept his eyes focused on the flashing lights of the fire trucks as he pulled back out into traffic. “We should be the first news team there.”

The prospect gave her spirits a jolt. Since the move ten years ago back to Montana to rebuild her life and then take care of her dying father, she was determined to succeed as a reporter, to put the past behind her.

When they arrived at the warehouse, flames shot out of the upper story. Cool summer evening air surrounded Elizabeth as she exited the van. She caught sight of the gathering crowd. Even at a distance, she could see the expressions of shock and fear on the faces of the onlookers. A reminder of why she had chosen to become a reporter in the first place. Her father had been a police officer. To him, work had been about sacrifice and service. Now that he was gone, she wanted to live by his example, using her chosen vocation, the gifts God had given her, as a way to help others.

Elizabeth tugged at the hem of the blazer she’d hurriedly thrown on over her T-shirt and sweats. Dale would shoot her from the waist up. No one would see her cartoon-emblazoned pants.

Her heart raced as she scanned the crowd, recognizing the fire chief and the arson investigator from Badger PD. Interesting. Maybe the fire wasn’t an accident. “Let’s get some coverage from the eyewitnesses until the first responders can give us some info.” She turned a half circle, reading the faces of thirty or so people who had gathered to watch the warehouse burn. Most of them were probably Johnny-come-latelies who would have nothing to contribute about what had happened, but surely somewhere in the crowd was the man or woman who had been here for the early stages of the fire and made the 911 call.

A woman with her arm around a teenage boy offered a welcoming expression. Elizabeth stepped toward her but stopped short when Zachery Beck emerged from the shadows holding a tablet computer. He closed in on the woman before Elizabeth could reach her.

Dale came up behind Elizabeth. He shook his bald head. “How did Zach Beck get here so fast?”

Elizabeth clenched her jaw. “Beats me.” She studied the tall, unassuming man. His blond hair was a little too long and wild to qualify for the messy-on-purpose look. The five o’clock shadow and ripped jeans indicated he was a man who didn’t care how he looked. He didn’t have to care. Zach wrote an independent news blog called Minute by Minute that was taking a lot of KBLK’s viewer and online base. Zach had a gift for being the first reporter at every major news event. She had to admire his talent even if he did scoop her.

How had he managed to get out in front of her this time?

She moved in closer to listen to Zach question the woman. He was typing as she talked. Did he actually send raw, unedited stories straight to the blog? She’d read his news stories. The articles were polished and professional.

“And when did you first notice the flames shooting out of the upper floors?” Zach offered Elizabeth a nod before turning his attention back to the woman.

The woman drew her son into a tighter hug. Embarrassed, the teenager rolled his eyes, but didn’t angle out of his mother’s embrace. “We just finished eating at the fried chicken place down the street and we were headed back to our apartment on Wilson Avenue.”

Zach asked one detailed question after another. She understood how he managed to get such good interviews. His voice was soft, inviting conversation rather than intimidating. He leaned in anytime the woman spoke. Everything about his body language indicated that the spotlight was on the woman, not him. Was it an act he’d perfected as part of his skill set as a reporter or was he really that humble?

When Zach finished, Elizabeth stepped toward the woman. “Hi, Elizabeth Kramer from KBLK. I wonder if we could get you on camera answering a few questions for us?”

“I already told that man everything I know. It’s been a long night for David and me.” She turned and walked away, still not letting go of her son.

Elizabeth let out a heavy breath.

Dale came up behind her. “I got some visuals of the fire. We need some talking heads before you do your stand-up.”

Fuming over losing the important interview, Elizabeth glanced at the fire chief, who was still engaged with the arson investigator. She walked over to Zach while he filmed the fire.

“Congrats on getting that interview with the eyewitness,” Elizabeth said.

Zach offered her a crooked grin. “Yeah, sorry about scooping you on that. Guess I wore her out. She didn’t want to be on TV with the beauty queen.”

She didn’t like it when people brought up her pageant days. That was over a decade ago when she lived in Seattle before her life had fallen apart. How did he even find that out? Had he been investigating her? She swept away the pain that talking about her past produced.

Focus on the story, Elizabeth.

“If you don’t mind, I listened to you interview her. I’d like to use some of that info in my report even if I can’t get her on camera.”

Zach’s eyebrow went up. “You do whatever you need to do, Betsy.” Then he smiled in a disarming way. His blue eyes had a Paul Newman coolness to them.

She bit her tongue. He knew what her name was. The jabbing at her happened every time they were both chasing the same story. Let it go. He’s just trying to bait you. She peered over his shoulder. “Looks like the fire chief and the arson investigator are free.”

“I already talked to them. No question about it. The fire was started on purpose, really basic incendiary device.”

Elizabeth could not push down her frustration anymore. “How could you possibly have found that out so fast?”

Zach laughed, putting on his best New York accent. “Youse gotta have your sources, lady.” He ambled away toward the circle of firefighters, who slapped him on the back. He’d cultivated his relationship with the first responders way more than she had been able to even though her father had been sheriff in a town not too far from Badger.

Elizabeth shook her head. Zach delighted a little too much in their friendly competition. It seemed clear that the humble guy who did the interviews was the act and the always-looking-for-the-upper-hand Zach was the real deal. Too bad. Those blue eyes suggested a much gentler man.

Another news truck pulled into the lot.

Dale leaned close to her. “So what now?”

They would end up getting the same footage as the other station when the police chief made his statement. Since Zachery Beck had stolen her thunder by getting the eyewitness report, she had to find an angle no one else had.

She peered at the faces in the crowd. Sometimes the arsonist showed up to watch the reaction to his work. A large man in a pulled-down baseball hat toward the back of the crowd raised and lowered his head. He’d looked at her only for an instant, but she thought she’d caught a flash of some emotion.

She edged toward him.

The man took a step back, turned and walked away. The darkness behind the warehouse enveloped him. Had she caught a look of guilt on his face, or was she just so desperate for a story angle, she was jumping to conclusions? Maybe he was involved, or it could be that the guy knew something but was afraid to talk. She couldn’t call herself a real reporter if she didn’t pursue a lead, even a tentative one. She glanced around for Dale, who was filming the firemen working. No time to catch his attention.

Feeling a mixture of fear and excitement, she slipped away from the crowd toward the darkness where the man in the baseball hat had disappeared.

* * *

Zachery glanced around. Where had Elizabeth gone? He’d seen her doing her broadcast only a moment ago. She was a good reporter. Way better on camera than he’d ever been. He might be good at finding the stories, but she was great at delivering them.

He watched her every night. Not that he would tell her that, though. He kind of enjoyed their friendly professional jousting. He couldn’t believe he’d let it slip he knew about her beauty queen days. It wasn’t on the official profile the TV station posted on their website—he’d had to go digging for the information. Wanting to find out more about her was only partially motivated by the know-your-competition rule he’d learned in journalism school. He found her intriguing. She treated every news story like she had a personal stake in it.

He pulled away from the crowd of police officers. The firemen had nearly gotten the blaze under control.

“Don’t forget about hoops on Friday,” one of the firemen shouted at his back.

“Yeah, sure.” Who would have thought that playing basketball with the first responders would give him an in? They answered his phone calls and gave him inside info even when they were on the way to an emergency.

“See you then, Beck,” said one of the other men.

He was still having trouble getting used to responding to a last name that wasn’t his. He didn’t enjoy the deception, but it was the only way he could go back to living a normal life.

Over a year ago, he’d been reporting on the fighting in Syria when he was taken hostage by terrorists. Once he was released and back in the States, a lot of media attention had been directed his way. He wanted to cover the stories, not be the story. So he left Baltimore and came to Montana. Now he reported small-town news in a part of the world where it was easy enough to hide who he’d been. He didn’t care where he lived as long as he could write and not have people asking him personal questions.