01 Only Fear Read Free

the show, but man, I’m sorry. That guy’s missing some cookies from his jar, isn’t he? He sure knows how to get our listeners stirred up, though. After that show on personality disorders, we had more people calling in to respond to his comments than ever before.” David paced the small room. Two steps were all he could manage before he ran out of space and had to pivot. “I should ask Sharon to come in tomorrow and help man the phones.”
    The station’s undergraduate intern, Sharon Moss, worked about twenty hours a week. A vibrant, hard-working girl, she enjoyed working on Live with Levine. More important, David clearly liked her and relished an excuse to be with her.
    Maggie bit down hard on her bottom lip, resisting the urge to rub the growing ache in her chest. When her breath hitched in smaller and smaller increments, she knew this wasn’t going away soon. First, Dan’s mention of his wife dying by a violent hand, and now Owen’s tirade about fear.
    Twice in one night, after months of nothing.
    But then, this was no ordinary night. Today was the first anniversary of Brad’s death.
    I am in control, I am in control, she chanted to herself. But it was obvious to her she was not in control.
    “Excuse me.” She suddenly pushed up from her chair and walked as quickly as she could to the bathroom down the hall. Trying to suck a decent breath of air into her frozen lungs, she stumbled into the first stall. She slammed the door closed and slumped against it, then sank to the floor and rested her head against the wall. Again, the coolness seemed to help. After suffering from similar episodes for the past twelve months, she knew what to expect. And what helped.
    The shaking took over then, and she chanted her mantra through gritted teeth until she felt her color return, her pulse slow.
    I am in control. She’d say it until she believed it.
    Oh God, Brad. What I wouldn’t give to speak to you today. And every day for a full lifetime.
    A knock came at the ladies’ room door, followed by David’s hesitant voice as he slowly pushed it open a crack. “Maggie? You okay?”
    She pulled herself up from the floor and was grateful when her legs supported her. “Yeah. Just a stomach bug or something. I’ll be right out.”
    After splashing water on her face and holding a cool paper towel to the back of her neck, she examined the damage. Eyes dilated. Cheeks flushed. But nobody but a doctor would recognize the symptoms. Or they would mistake them for some passing ailment.
    “Fake it ’til you make it,” she muttered to herself.
    She balled up the paper towel, then tossed it with more force than necessary into the trash bin. Angry now that she’d allowed herself to become upset again, she embraced the increased adrenaline. The sooner she could wrap things up at work, the sooner she could get home to familiar, safe surroundings. To Sigmund, whose purring would soothe her fears.
    Fear. Anxiety. The very words had her wanting to sink to the floor again. Of all the things she’d said in the past hour, why would Owen pick that as a point of contention? Did he know about her panic attacks, or had he just followed the news last summer, like everyone else within a hundred-mile radius of Chicago, and made an educated guess?
    She found David waiting for her in the break room, concern etched in his forehead. “You’re sick? Why didn’t you take the night off? We could have played a tape of an old show.”
    She shrugged and attempted a smile. It came off weak, she knew. “It kind of hit me at the end. I’m fine now.”
    He looked closer, but she turned to the fridge to grab a can of juice. Adopting a lighter tone, she strived for normalcy. “Got any plans?”
    “For tonight?”
    “It is the Fourth of July in the big city. Even past midnight, there’s got to be a party somewhere.”
    After a shrug, he seemed to decide she was back to her usual self and smiled. “I didn’t, but now I think I’ll give Sharon a call and