Who Do I Tell?: PDX Year 3, #4 by L.J. Breedlove

Author:L.J. Breedlove
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: portland, oregon, mystery, coming of age, college newsroom, university television, college reporter, multicultural
Publisher: L.J. Breedlove
Published: 2022-10-25T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 13

1 A.M., SATURDAY, APRIL 2, 2022, Portland Heights house — Ryan put down the phone, and got out of bed as silently as possible.

“Problem?” his wife asked.

“Ellison Lee,” Ryan said. He hadn’t told her all of it, but some. Teresa was his anchor, and she couldn’t be that if he withheld things. So she knew P3 was back. Knew he’d been involved with one of Ryan’s students. Knew that they’d gotten tangled up in both the firebombs story and the Bellows gun mystery. That was more than enough. “He’s being stalked. I’m going to go down and get him.”

“Take backup?” she asked, raising up on one elbow to watch him dress. He pulled on black leather pants and a ripped black T that showed off his tattoo. No point in having a rep if you didn’t use it when you needed it. He sat down, pulled on his low boots.

He should probably do something to his hair, he thought, but he didn’t bother.

“I’ll stop and get Cage,” Ryan promised. But when he got to the top floor, and knocked, Emily answered.

“He’s not back yet,” she said. “PBS has him working a late shift editing for them. They’re short-handed. Everyone is short-handed.”

Ryan paused at that. “The Oregonian hiring?”

She shook her head no. “But Portland Mercury is, if you’re thinking about Will.”

He nodded, filed that away, and headed out alone. He should have gone back downstairs for Joe, he conceded. But it was easier to just do this.

It had been a long time since he’d gone to the Stag. He found on-street parking, and that alone told him the city hadn’t bounced back. Not yet. He shoved his keys and phone in his pockets and sauntered into the bar. A man who looked vaguely familiar was hovering near the door.

“Ryan Matthews?” he said anxiously. “Niall Winters. Don’t know if you remember me.”

“Vaguely,” Ryan said honestly. “Where’s E.? Something’s wrong?”

Niall nodded. “Come back to the bar. The bartender has part of the story. And I’ll tell you what little I know. He said to watch for you if something happened. He came off his second dance and disappeared. But there’s been a cop lurking around all evening. I ran him off once. But they had to have taken him out the back door — and we have security back there.”

That wasn’t good, Ryan thought disturbed. He followed Niall to the bar. The bartender looked up, jerked his head toward the kitchen. Ryan tried to stay relaxed, to project confidence.

“So there’s been this guy at the bar since E.’s first dance, I guess,” the bartender began, with a look at Niall. Niall nodded. “And one of our regulars, who is a cop, says, ‘Sarge? What are you doing here? I wouldn’t think the Stag is your kind of bar.’ And the man snorts. ‘I’m undercover,’ he says. The other guy laughs. ‘No you’re not,’ he says. ‘You’ve got cop written all over you for everyone in this bar to see.’ The man glared at him, and he backed off.

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