Charley's Web Read Free Page B

concern as he perched on the side of his desk. His brown eyes narrowed. “Did it say anything else?”
    “No, that was it. That was enough.”
    Michael rubbed his strong jaw with his large hand, pushed back some gray hair that had fallen across his wide forehead, then crossed muscular arms over his expansive chest. Charley watched each move, noting that everything about the older man was oversized, something she might normally have found comforting, but which this morning only served to underline her growing sense of helplessness. Listening to the effortless boom of his voice, seeing the casual authority inherent in even his smallest gesture, she felt reduced and insubstantial. Looking at him, she understood, for the first time, what people meant when they said someone “assumed control.” Assumed, she thought. Not took. Not seized. A man like Michael Duff never had to fight for control, as she always seemed to be doing. It was his—naturally. Something he took for granted, something he just assumed.
    “I shouldn’t have come barging in here like that,” Charley apologized, replaying in her mind the dramatic way she’d burst into the room without so much as a knock on the door. She glanced toward the reporters sitting at their desks beyond the glass wall. She knew that even though they were no longer looking in her direction, they were still watching her. Judging her.
    “You’re understandably upset.”
    “It’s not that I’ve never gotten nasty e-mails before. Or even death threats.” High-profile reporters routinely received such unpleasantries, and most were as meaningless as the proposals of marriage that also came their way. Along with the abuse also came letters of congratulations on a job well done and more than a few declarations of love. Some readers submitted suggestions for future columns, others forwarded nude pictures of themselves, and a surprising number were looking for someone to pen their life stories. Charley had received two such requests in recent weeks. She’d turned them down as gently as she could—other commitments, I’m not the right person for the job, you should try writing it yourself—but then, some people couldn’t help but take such rejection personally. “It’s just that this is the first time anyone’s threatened my children,” she said, her eyes filling with tears. “You think I’m overreacting, don’t you?”
    “Not at all. We take threats like this very seriously. Please tell me you saved the letter.”
    “Of course.”
    “Good. I’ll report what’s happened to the police, forward them a copy of the e-mail, and see if they can trace it.”
    “Whoever wrote it probably used an Internet café.”
    “I wouldn’t be too sure about that,” Michael said. “Most of these nut cases aren’t very bright. Wouldn’t surprise me at all if the creep used his home computer.”
    “His? You think it’s a guy?”
    “Sounds like masculine posturing to me.”
    “So, what do I do now?”
    “Not much you can do, except be extra careful,” Michael said, with a shrug. “Don’t open your door to strangers; try not to antagonize anybody; keep a close eye on your kids; let the police handle it. I don’t think he’ll bother you again. Guys like this are basically cowards. He shot his wad when he sent that e-mail.”
    Charley smiled, feeling safer already. “Yesterday’s column seems to have upset a lot of people.”
    “Just means you’re doing a good job.”
    “Thanks.”
    “Try not to worry,” Michael said as she opened the door to his office and stepped outside.
    “Everything all right?” one of the secretaries inquired as Charley walked past her desk.
    “Everything’s fine,” she answered without stopping or looking back, afraid if she did either, she’d burst into tears.
    “The hairless wonder,” someone whispered, loud enough to be heard.
    “Must itch like hell.”
    Muted laughter followed Charley back to her cubicle. What I wouldn’t give for a