Don't Say A Word Read Free

you doing in here?"
        "Looking at the photos."
        "We don't have time for that. Come on."
        "Just a second." She pointed at the photograph. "Does this girl seem familiar to you?"
        Michael gave the photo a quick glance. "I don't think so. Why?"
        "I have a necklace just like the one that little girl is wearing," she added. "Isn't that odd?"
        "Why would it be odd? It doesn't look unusual to me."
        Of course it didn't. There were probably a million girls who had that same necklace. "You're right. Let's go." But as she turned to follow Michael out of the room, she couldn't help taking one last look at the picture. The girl's eyes called out to her-eyes that looked so much like her own. But that little girl in the photograph didn't have anything to do with her- did she?
        "It cost me a fortune to get you out of jail," Joe Carmichael said.
        Alex Manning leaned back in his chair and kicked his booted feet up onto the edge of Joe's desk. Joe, a balding man in his late thirties, was one of his best friends, not to mention the West Coast editor of World News Magazine, a publication that bought eighty percent of Alex's photographs. They'd been working together for over ten years now. Some days Alex couldn't believe it had been more than a decade since he'd begun his work as a photojournalist right after graduating from Northwestern University. Other days-like today-it felt more like a hundred years.
        "You told me to get those pictures at any cost, and I did," Alex replied.
        "I didn't tell you to upset the local police while you were doing it. You look like shit, by the way. Who beat you up?"
        "They didn't give me their business cards. And it comes with the territory. You know that."
        "What 1 know is that the magazine wants me to rein you in."
        "If you don't want my photographs, I'll sell them somewhere else."
        Joe hastily put up his hands. "I didn't say that. But you're taking too many chances, Alex. You're going to end up dead or in some prison I can't get you out of."
        "You worry too much."
        "And you don't worry enough-which is what makes you good. It also makes you dangerous and expensive. Although I have to admit that this is some of your best work," Joe added somewhat reluctantly as he studied the pile of photographs on his desk. "Damn right it is."
        "Then it's a good time for a vacation. Why don't you take a break? You've been on the road the past six months. Slow down."
        Slowing down was not part of Alex's nature. Venturing into unknown territory, taking the photograph no one else could get, that was what he lived for. But Alex had to admit he was bone tired, exhausted from shooting photographs across South America for the past six weeks, and his little stint in jail had left him with a cracked rib and a black eye. It probably wouldn't hurt to take a few days off. "You know what your weakness is?" Joe continued. "I'm sure you're going to tell me." "You're reckless. You forget that a good photographer stays on the right side of the lens." Joe reached behind his desk and grabbed a newspaper. "This was on the front page of the Examiner last week."
        Alex winced at the picture of himself being hustled into a police car in Colombia. "Damn that Cameron. He's the one who took that photo. I thought I saw that slimy weasel slinking in the shadows."
        "He might be a weasel, but he was smart enough to stay out of jail. Seriously, what are you thinking these days? It's as if you're tempting fate." "I'm just doing my job. A job that sells a lot of your magazines."
        "Take a vacation, Alex, have some beer, watch a football game, get yourself a woman-think about something besides getting the next shot. By the way, the magazine is sponsoring a photography exhibit at the Legion of Honor. Your mother gave us permission to use the photographs taken by your father. You might want to stop