Every Fear Read Free

relationship to the breaking point.
    The final embarrassment came last year when he showed up drunk in the newsroom looking for Jason. The shame of that night got his old man to admit he had a problem.
    It got him to quit drinking and get help.
    Almost a year sober now, and he was doing great. Hell, Jason was proud of him. He was a different man. He’d taken early retirement from the brewery, and a fewcourses to chase a dream of his own. Becoming a private investigator. And it was happening for him—an agency run by an old cop buddy had taken him on.
    Jason’s thoughts returned to the newsroom and the fact there was no overnight note from Astrid. Strange. While she’d never hidden the fact that she hated the night police beat and struggled on breaking news, she’d always left an overnight note. Except this time. Something wasn’t right.
    He went back to the scanners.
    “All units on the Ballard situation, we’ve got a possible pedestrian injury accident. Stand by for confirmation.”
    “Seventy-six. Have you got paramedics rolling? Ten-four.”
    He flipped to a fresh page in his notebook, then jotted notes as he spotted Astrid’s bag at her desk, which adjoined his.
    Strange.
    Her shift ended at 2:00 A.M. ; she shouldn’t be here. Maybe she’d forgotten it last night. He inventoried the large newsroom with its rows of half-walled cubicles, computer terminals, desks cluttered with towers of newspapers, reports, cafeteria plates, cutlery, and assorted crap.
    Virtually empty. Nobody came in at this hour.
    Nobody else in Metro, Business, Sports, Entertainment, or Lifestyles. A few copy editors worked alone on advance pages but they were far off from him, like sentries at distant posts. The editorial assistant was floating around and had left him a note from the assignmenteditor, who was going to be late because he’d blown a tire.
    A door flew open.
    He turned to his boss’s glass-walled office to see Astrid Grant march to the cop desk. She opened her bag, then used both hands to thrust belongings from her drawers into it as if the building were on fire.
    “Hey, what’s going on?”
    Her face and eyes were red.
    “I’ve been fired.”
    “What? Why?”
    “Ask dickhead.” She nodded to the Metro editor’s office. “Stupid damn tanker crash. I’m fed up with Rain Town. I’m going home to L.A.”
    Astrid grabbed her bag and hurried off, putting a hand to her face. He started after her but was stopped by the scanners.
    “All units in the Ballard area. Update. Possible pedestrian injury now reported as a hit-and-run. Seventy-six, what’s your ETA?”
    “Seven maybe ten. Can we please confirm the address again?”
    “Ten-four.”
    The dispatcher repeated the address over the air and Jason jotted it down. Hit-and-run? This could turn into something. Watching Astrid disappear toward the elevator he focused on the call, preparing to jump on it.
    “Wade!” Spangler, the Mirror’s new Metro editor, summoned him.
    Jason refused to leave the scanners. Not now. He waved off his boss.
    Nobody waved off Fritz Spangler. He ran the Mirror’s largest editorial department. He controlled the professional lives of nearly one hundred people. Spangler was a son of Seattle who’d started with the Post-Intelligencer before moving to New York City and the Daily News. He’d worked his way up from One Police Plaza to assignment editor before being headhunted by the Mirror.
    He returned to Seattle with a mandate to reverse the paper’s melting circulation by driving an agenda for hard news and exclusives.
    The Mirror hadn’t won a Pulitzer prize since the early 1990s. Even Jason’s exclusive from last year had failed to earn a nomination. For Spangler, Jason’s big story was old news and old news didn’t cut it.
    In fact, no story was ever good enough for Spangler. No reporter ever performed to his standards. Some four months ago, when Spangler arrived, thirty reporters worked in Metro. Word was, Spangler had orders to