Nobody Knows Read Free

her live studio appearance scheduled at the end of her story. The stylist was spraying Cassie’s black hair when Yelena Gregory’s large frame appeared in the doorway.
    “I found someone else to have lunch with,” the news president said, smiling.
    “I’m so sorry, Yelena,” she apologized, totally bummed out that the press conference had forced her to cancel their third meeting to discuss the possibility of Cassie’s being elevated to the network’s premier newsmagazine show. “I hope we can reschedule something.”
    Yelena walked into the room and over to Cassie’s chair. “I have to fly back to New York right after the broadcast.” At the look of disappointment on Cassie’s face, Yelena reached out and patted the correspondent’s wrist. “Don’t worry, Cassie. Everything is a go. Business Affairs will be contacting your agent. We want you on
Hourglass?
    CASSIE STRODE to the editing room and viewed the completed piece. It was well constructed, covering all the apparent bases. But over fifteen years of journalistic experience told Cassie that there was something else to this story. She had learned to trust her gut.
    The story was scheduled for the second news block, after the first commercial break. At six-fifteen, as Eliza Blake mounted the
Evening Headlines
anchor platformin New York, Cassie tried the FBI again. She didn’t call the bureau’s press office this time but instead called her friend Special Agent Will Clayton.
    “I’m on deadline, Will, and the press office isn’t returning my calls. I need to know, what was with Pamela Lynch this afternoon?”
    “What do you mean?”
    “Come on, Will. I have to go on air. The director doesn’t normally make these announcements. And she was shaking like a leaf.”
    “She’s personally invested in this one, Cassie.”
    “Meaning?”
    There was silence on the line.
    “Will? Come on. What gives?”
    “I guess it will come out sooner or later. I’m surprised none of the other networks picked up on this.” Clayton hesitated.
    “What? What will come out?” Cassie urged.
    “You didn’t hear it from me.”
    “Fine. I didn’t hear it from you. What is it?”
    “ HOW OLD was she?”
    “Twenty-one. She was a senior at Loyola University in New Orleans.”
    “I don’t see how we can’t report it, Cassie,” said Executive Producer Range Bullock from the Fishbowl in New York. “One of the highest-ranking law enforcement officers in the country is using her power to take care of personal business. That’s
huge
news under any circumstances. Would that kind of action be taken for any regular American family?”
    “Would any regular American family have their daughter identified as a rape victim?” Cassie countered, squirming at the thought of using Maggie Lynch’s name on the air.
    Range popped an antacid tablet in his mouth. “This isn’t a regular case. Even if this guy belongs on the Fugitives List, the FBI director’s daughter is the victim, and that’s a major story.”
    “I don’t feel good about this, Range.”
    “None of us do, Cassie. But it’s news, and it will get viewers. The other nets will eventually pick up on it and report it anyway.”
    In Washington, Cassie hung up the phone.
Viewers and ratings
, she thought. So often, it came down to that. The battle for higher ratings and the advertising dollars that followed. This was February, a sweeps period, and
Evening Headlines
was more focused than ever on pulling in the audience.
    She hurried into the studio and slid into her seat. Catching her breath and clipping the small microphone to her jacket lapel, she watched Eliza Blake on the monitor. In her mind, Cassie composed what she would say when the camera switched to her. After the last pre-narrated video of Cassie’s report finished rolling, her hazel eyes stared directly into the dark lens and she began.
    “It’s unusual for the FBI director to announce personally an addition to the Fugitives List, but this was not a