Hand of Fate by Lis Wiehl

Author:Lis Wiehl [Wiehl, Lis]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: ebook, book
Publisher: Thomas Nelson Inc.
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 25

KNWS Radio

Back in the interview room, Nic looked at Allison and shook her head in mock amazement. “Okay, for suspects we now have station management, the Gardners, Representative Glover, Craig, NOD winners, and now Victoria. And don’t forget Leather Hat Guy.”

Allison laughed. “Maybe for this next interview we should concentrate on finding out who couldn’t have killed him.”

“Who’s up next?” Nic asked as she massaged a knot on her inner thigh. Because she was still recovering from being shot in the shoulder, her Thai boxing instructor was focusing on the lower half of her body. Thanks to the training Nic had begun at Quantico, she was already good with her fists, but Muay Thai also used shins, knees, and elbows as weapons. The past weekend she had been too slow to block a kick and learned firsthand exactly how much pain the nerve that ran from the groin to the knee could produce.

Allison looked at the schedule. “Next up is an intern who was assigned to work directly with Jim. Willow Klonksy.”

“Willow Klonsky? Doesn’t exactly sing, does it?” Nic wondered which part of her name the girl would take after. Hippie chick Willow or plodding peasant Klonsky?

The answer turned out to be neither. Slender and model pretty, Willow was dressed in a black skirted suit, ivory blouse, and a single strand of pearls. Her makeup was flawless, her dark hair pinned up in a French twist. She looked like she was about to pose for a stock photo that would be labeled “young businesswoman.” But when she shook hands with Nic, her palm was damp.

“I understand you’re an intern here,” Nic said, taking the lead. “Is that a paid position?”

“I get college credit,” Willow said in a low voice. “I’m a senior in the broadcasting program at Reed.”

Nic revised Willow’s age down five years. She raised an eyebrow. “No offense, but you don’t really look like a Reedie.”

Reed was a top-drawer private college that attracted extremely bright kids with Birkenstocks, progressive ideas, and a liberal attitude toward drug use.

Willow offered them a smile, her first. It changed her face, softened some of the edges. “I don’t necessarily dress like this when I’m not at work.” Her tone became more serious. “And I don’t necessarily take part in all the after-school activities you hear about.”

“So you’re working here for free?” Nic asked. Maybe white girls whose parents had lots of money could afford to do glorified volunteer work while they attended a college that cost tens of thousands of dollars. Every hour Nic hadn’t been studying while she was in college, she had been making milk shakes, mopping floors, entering data into a computer. She barely remembered her courses. Every now and then her parents had been able to give her a twenty or two, or sometimes just a bottle of shampoo.

Willow leaned forward. “You don’t understand. I am so lucky to be here. There were more than two hundred applicants for this position. Being an intern is about the

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