Elected for Death by Valerie Wolzien

Author:Valerie Wolzien [Wolzien, Valerie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Endeavour Media
Published: 2019-11-13T22:00:00+00:00

SEVENTEEN

“What have you done to my husband?” Susan screeched, slamming her hands on the desk and causing coffee and doughnuts to fly in all directions.

“Blaming the messenger is a common response. But we don’t make the news, we just report the news,” Tom Davidson reminded her calmly.

“Don’t give me that shit! My husband is one of the most unselfish people in the world. He got involved in this campaign because he wanted to contribute to Hancock. He had—and has—no intention of benefiting from office—financially or otherwise. He—why are you writing this down?”

“I thought a personal statement from the wife—”

Any and all beliefs in a free press vanished from Susan’s mind as she whipped the notebook from his hands, flinging his pen across the room in the process.

“Hey! That’s a real Mont Blanc! It was a graduation present!” He scrambled over the couch to find his treasure.

“What is this story about my husband?” she muttered, flipping through the pages.

“What are you doing? I would go to jail to protect my sources. You’re not supposed to know who I speak with.” He grabbed his notebook out of her hands.

Susan saw a name she recognized on the page before her. “If you’re depending upon Cassandra Chadwick for the truth, you’re making a huge mistake. The woman is as phony as her face!”

“Huh?” Tom looked as though he thought she was going mad. “Listen, Mrs. Henshaw, why don’t I get you a copy of the story we’re going to run tonight and—”

“Where?”

“What?”

“Where is that copy?”

“I have the story in my computer.” He looked at her with horror, possibly thinking about what she had done to Jed’s laptop. “Down at the station. And the only person who knows the password to get in is me.”

“So let’s go.” Susan headed for the door. “Do you want to drive or shall I? Or maybe I should follow you. I don’t know exactly where the station is.”

“I’ll drive. But don’t you want to tell your husband where you’re going?”

“I’ll call him at work when I’ve solved this problem,” she insisted. “Just let me get my purse and my coat.” A few seconds later she was suitably attired and opening the door for the young man. “We’ll go down to the television station, but you can explain more fully to me on the way.”

“I—”

“First, I want to know what Cassandra Chadwick has to do with this. Was she your source—is this your car?” she interrupted herself to ask.

It was still dark, but the bright orange Volkswagen Beetle was illuminated by the Henshaws’ porch lights.

“Sure is. My parents gave it to me for graduation.”

“It’s wonderful.” Susan slipped into the passenger’s seat. “You might not believe this, but four friends and I once traveled almost all the way across the country in a car just like this during my last spring break from college.”

“On your way to Fort Lauderdale, right?”

“Actually, we were going to a peace rally in Washington D.C.,” Susan said. “There were thousands of these little guys there,” she added, running her hand across the dashboard.

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