The Guilty Part 12

Mya nodded.

"Paulina Cole. It's such a pleasure to meet you. Henry used to talk about you all the time back at the Gazette. Gazette. " Paulina " Paulina looked her over. It made Mya uncomfortable.

Paulina Cole wore a tailored pantsuit. Her jewelry was fine but not ostentatious. She wore her hair tied back in a ponytail, a thin string of pearls around her neck. A tape recorder sat on the table next to two steaming cups of coffee. There was a smile on Paulina's face, like a friendly aunt pleased to see how well her niece is doing.

"You're much more elegant in person. I've only seen your picture in the society pages."

"The lighting always sucks," Mya said. "And the dresses make me feel like I can't breathe."

"Coming from a well-known family is as much a curse as it is a gift," Paulina said. "You know, it's a real shame that Henry is too stubborn to see what he's lost."

Mya didn't know whether to smile or throw a cup of coffee in Paulina's face.

"Please don't patronize me."

Paulina sat back, held up her hands. "I understand. But I can't apologize for saying it. Listen," she said, leaning forward again. "I'm embarra.s.sed to say that we both know 126.

how stories in the news take on a life of their own. From what I gather, the last year has been hard for you."

"What do you know about it?"

"Well, after you were involved in Henry's altercation, altercation, " "

Paulina said, as though they'd been in a fender-bender, "your career doesn't seem to have taken off the way you expected."

"What do you care about my career?"

"I shouldn't," Paulina said. "But the truth is we both know how hard it is for strong women to make it in corporate America. Add to that the pressure of being a Loverne. Whether it's law or journalism, it's still about who can claw the hardest and deepest. Cornell, then law school at Columbia, you have a pretty terrific pedigree. I imagine neither were easy to achieve."

"Easy is what you make of it. Some kids can study eight hours a night and still blow the bar. Some can soak it up while spending three years sucking down beers five nights a week."

"And which were you?" Paulina asked.

Mya shifted in her seat. "I don't really know. I think I used to be the former. Now...I don't know."

"Mya," Paulina said, her voice growing soft. "You know why I asked you here, right?"

"Not exactly," she said. "You said something about my father. What does he have to do with anything?"

Paulina sighed. "I'm going to be straight with you. I'm writing an article on your father's campaign. Well, more specifically...his life. I think you can get where I'm going with this."

"No. Enlighten me."

"You're not blind," Paulina said, "and clearly not stupid.You must have heard the rumors. Or seen it with your own eyes."

"Seen what?" Mya said.

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"The other women."

Mya nearly choked.

"You're writing an article about my father seeing other women? Are you f.u.c.king kidding me?"

Paulina offered her hands. "It's more than that," she said.

"Your father is an important man. Important people need to gain the trust of their const.i.tuents. It's my job, it's what I'm paid for, to make sure people know the full story."

"Jesus," Mya whispered.

"It's going to be in the newspapers," Paulina said. "I have nothing against you or your father. I just want to know the truth. It doesn't need to be painful. If you just tell me what you know, the innuendos are kept out of it. The truth is all I want."

"I can't believe he's so stupid," Mya said, feeling her cheeks grow warm.

"Your father?" Mya nodded. "So you knew."

"Yes," Mya said, her voice barely a sound.

"Do you know who?" Mya shook her head. "Or how many?" Again.

"I don't know anything else, please, just leave it alone."

"Mya," Paulina said, "I honestly can't imagine how hard this is for you. Have you been able to talk to anyone else about it?" Mya stared into her coffee. "What about Henry?"

Mya looked at her, stared into Paulina's eyes. Then shook her head.

"We don't talk anymore. At least he doesn't talk to me." Mya took a sip of her coffee, holding the mug in both hands. She let the warmth travel down her hands. She put it down, added some more sugar. "I'm not sure what else you want to know."

"Why doesn't Henry want to talk to you? Weren't you two close?"

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"Were," Mya said.

"What happened?"

"It ended. Relationships do."

"You didn't want to stay friends?"

"I did," Mya said. Paulina leaned closer. Mya could smell did," Mya said. Paulina leaned closer. Mya could smell her perfume. It smelled good, not too strong.

"The truth is, Mya, Henry is in an incredibly important position right now. I fear that the brain trust at the Gazette, Gazette, that would be Harvey Hillerman and Wallace Langston, have placed too much pressure on Henry. Since the scandals last year, there haven't been many young reporters given access to the kind of stories he's had. Did you know he's covering Athena Paradis's murder?"

"I read his stories," Mya said.

"So much pressure though," Paulina said, as though the weight of the world was pressing on her shoulders. "If you're not up to the job, in our profession there are catastrophic consequences."

Mya sipped her coffee, said nothing. Paulina offered a warm smile.

"My ex was addicted to coffee," she said. "If he didn't drink a minimum of six cups a day, he'd throw furniture around our apartment like he was shooting rubber bands. I think I spent as much money staying in hotels to get away from him as I did paying our mortgage."

"Really?"

"G.o.d, yes. If you're ever in an abusive relationship, please take it from someone who's made too many mistakes in the love department, get your a.s.s out of that place quick and don't ever look back."

They both laughed. Mya looked at Paulina. Her smile seemed so genuine, like she wasn't simply a reporter, but 129.

someone who truly cared. Mya thought about her friends, the ones who said they'd always be there for her. The ones who never called, never checked up, always a.s.sumed her tears came from happiness. Never stopping to think that she had nothing to be happy about. And hadn't for a long time.

"We were together almost three years," Mya said, sighing.

"Then it ended."

"Just like that." Paulina spread some raspberry jam over a slice of toast. She bit into it, brushed some crumbs off her lip.

"Was it one thing, or just a lot of one things?"

"Kind of both. You know how college relationships are.

Eventually you either move in or get lost. I was a year older than Henry, and when I moved back to the city we just grew apart." Paulina kept chewing. "And then..."

Paulina stopped chewing. Waited. Mya stayed quiet.

"And then what?"

"You know, s.h.i.t happens. Life. He was up there, I was down here. s.h.i.t."

Paulina spoke faster now, like she'd sensed something.

"No, I have a feeling it was something specific. Did Henry do something? Did you?"

Mya stayed silent. She didn't know if she could go on.

Thought about her father. Thought about Henry. The two men in her life who'd promised to care for her, had in the end abandoned her. She stared at the tape recorder, cold gray, wheels turning. A memory that wouldn't be erased.

Paulina reached across the table. She placed her hand on top of Mya's. Kind. Mya felt her skin, smooth with just a hint of roughness around the fingertips. She looked at Paulina's lips, coated with a demure red gloss. Mya felt tears come to her eyes again. She wanted to excuse herself, to go to the bathroom and wail and pound the walls and let it all out, let 130.

all the s.h.i.t ooze into the walls and cracks and disappear. Then she could come back and sit here silent, without feeling like a dam about to burst. The tape recorder might as well have been a magnet holding her down. All she could do was talk.

Afterwards her story wouldn't get lost in the cracks, it would be recorded in those metal wheels. For some reason, she felt better knowing that.

"It was about a year and a half ago," Mya said. She felt the tears subside. Her jaw didn't hurt, but she could feel the scar.

Her eyes dried up. It felt good to get it out. "Henry and I were in a fight."

Paulina listened to the whole story. She nodded, smiled, nearly looked to be in tears at the end. And while they spoke, the tape recorder sitting on the table disappeared from Mya's thoughts.

20.

"So if you were a hundred-and-thirty-year-old gun whose reputation was more notorious than Andy d.i.c.k on a bender, where would you be?"

"Do you really expect me to answer that?" Amanda said.

"It'd be helpful if you could," I replied. "But I won't be too disappointed if you don't."

Thankfully I had the deep resources of the Gazette Gazette archives archives at my disposal. Speed was key. With a thread this important, it was only a matter of time before other news outlets picked up on it. Once a story began percolating, you had to spill it before it grew cold. I had to find out if the killer was using a Winchester, and just what his motives were for killing three seemingly unconnected people.

"I'm gonna head back to the office, see what I can dig up,"

I said to Amanda. "Thanks for setting me up with Trimble, I knew there was a reason I keep you around." I gave her a playful nudge, then wrapped my arm around her. As she leaned in, I heard a beep come from my pocket. I always kept my cell phone on silent mode when talking to a source.

Someone had called and left a message.

I checked my call log. One missed call. I recognized the 132.

number. I immediately shoved it back into my pocket.

Amanda didn't need to see the number. She only had to look at my expression to know.

"It was her again, wasn't it?"

I nodded.

"You know I'm not a jealous girlfriend," Amanda said. "I don't need the pa.s.sword to your e-mail, I have a life outside of you, I don't sit around at night wondering when you'll be home, and I sure as h.e.l.l don't care if you subscribe to Maxim. Maxim.

But raging jealousy and curiosity as to why your ex seems to think it's all right to call you every freaking day are two different things entirely."

"She's not calling me every day," I said, and immediately regretted it. That wasn't the point. Amanda was right. If the tables were turned and some old boyfriend was calling her at freaky hours, I'd be bugging the phone lines and setting up a tent outside the guy's house waiting for him to come home.

The fact that she'd let Mya's intrusions go on for this long said a lot about her character and patience. And maybe mine, too.

"Listen, Mya's had it rough the past few years.You remember what I told you about us, that night? When she was attacked?"

Amanda sighed, nodded. She knew about the attack. It was one of the first things I'd told her when we decided to be together. I thought it was important, to approach our relationship with all the cards on the table. It was a painful one to show.

A year and a half ago, Mya had been attacked. She was living in New York, while I was finishing my senior year. We were fighting constantly, and late one night she called me. Still boiling over an insult from before, I hung up on her. It turned out she had pressed Redial in the middle of being attacked and nearly raped by a man who jumped her outside of a bar. She managed to fight him off, but he broke her jaw. I didn't know 133.

this until the next morning. It was as much consolation as knowing the surgery didn't leave much of a scar.

"I don't know why she keeps calling," I said. Amanda glared at me with one of those don't you dare patronize me don't you dare patronize me looks. I had to remind myself that Amanda was much smarter than I was. "Okay, I know why she's calling. But she doesn't want me back. She's just hurting and needs someone to help."