It Only Takes a Moment Read Free Page A

if the microphone didn’t transmit any sound, they’d figure out that she was betraying them. Mrs. Garcia didn’t know if the man was only making an empty threat against her daughter and baby granddaughter to scare her, but if that was his aim, he had succeeded. She couldn’t take the chance of having something violent and horrible happening to the ones she loved most.
    Her heart pounded while she listened to the crunch of her footsteps as she walked across the crushed stone that covered the parking lot. When she entered the camp office, Janie was waiting in a chair at the side of the room. She wore a construction-paper headband, a yellow feather in it, and her face was decorated with the green paint her camp counselor had applied to resemble a Native American in ceremonial dress.
    The child jumped out of her seat. “Where are we going? What are we doing?” The excitement and trust on the little girl’s painted face caused Mrs. Garcia to swallow hard.
    “It’s a surprise, hija. Your mamá is going to meet us at home with a surprise for you.”
    “Tell me,” said Janie. “Tell me.”
    “You have to wait, chiquita. You have to wait.”
    Mrs. Garcia turned and went to the main desk. The camp staff member who was running the desk pushed a leather ledger across the counter.
    “Just sign your name and the time,” she said.
    Mrs. Garcia paused and stared hard in the direction of the young woman, but she was busy collating sheets of paper.
    “What are you doing there?” Mrs. Garcia asked, trying to get the staffer to look up at her so she could mouth or gesture her distress.
    “Just putting together copies of the lyrics for the sing-along.” The staffer stayed focused on her task.
    “Oh? When is the sing-along?” asked Mrs. Garcia as she silentlyprayed that the woman’s eyes would meet hers. Por favor, Señor, por favor, she prayed. Let the girl look up.
    “Friday afternoon,” answered the woman, keeping her head down.
    Mrs. Garcia was acutely aware that the man in the car was waiting and listening. She couldn’t risk any more time trying to get the attention of this tonta girl. Mrs. Garcia picked up a pen and wrote in shaky script, “Call police.”
    Taking Janie by the hand, Mrs. Garcia walked out to the parking lot. Her breathing was rapid, her face was hot, and beads of perspiration were scattered across her brow.
    The young woman staffing the desk never looked up.

CHAPTER 6
    W hen the interview was finished, Eliza posed for some pictures at her desk and then on the KTA set. Doris Brice stood by, stepping in from time to time to powder Eliza’s nose or fix an errant strand of hair. By eleven o’clock the photo session for the magazine spread was over.
    “Done for the day?” Doris asked as she put the brushes back in her makeup case.
    “Almost,” said Eliza. “I have some phone calls to return. Then I can pack it in.”
    On her way back to her office, Eliza met Range Bullock in the hall.
    “How’s life in the front row?” Eliza greeted him.
    Range rolled his eyes. “It’s different, that’s for sure.”
    “Are you missing the day-to-day deadlines?” asked Eliza.
    “To tell you the truth, not as much as I thought I would,” said Range. “When I was producing the Evening Headlines, I should have bought stock in Tums. My ulcer has really quieted down since I left.”
    Eliza looked at Range. His hair was almost totally white now. His skin was pale and there were deep lines at the side of his mouth.
    “Come on, Range. You can’t tell me that being the president of KEY News is easier than being the executive producer of the evening show.”
    “It’s different,” Range answered, smiling. “Now I can be the one who gets to make the new executive producer’s life a living hell.”
    Eliza smiled back. “Well, you certainly look like you could use a little sun,” she said. “Why don’t you and Louise come over Sunday afternoon? We can lie by the pool and throw something on the barbecue.