excitement for one day, kiddo."
"You're right. That guy was pretty sick. Hope he makes it." She glanced around the newsroom at the reporters and editors moving like bees in a hive.
"Talk to you later, Ted."
He waved as they parted, and Cotten headed for her office. But something kept nagging like an unscratchable itch; why had the guy in the lobby asked for her?
***
Late that afternoon, a young intern fresh out of journalism school came to Cotten's door. "Here's the first draft of the Shroud of Turin piece, Ms. Stone."
"Thanks." She motioned the girl in. "Do me a favor."
"Sure. I'd be glad to."
"You heard about the commotion in the lobby earlier?"
"Yeah. Poor guy."
"See if you can find out which hospital they transported him to and the status of his condition."
"Do you have his name?"
Cotten shook her head. "He had no ID."
"Okay, I'll see what I can come up with." She spun on her heels and scurried away.
Cotten glanced at her phone for the umpteenth time, just in case the message light was blinking and John had called while she was on the line. She swiveled her chair and peered out her window at Central Park West. This was her favorite time of year, particularly with the leaves turning and the brisk air she enjoyed during her walk to work each morning. Only when the elements would become unbearable later in the season did she give up her sidewalk commute and take a cab.
She scanned the Shroud story—a report of a new test on pollen traces found in the Shroud of Turin. The pollen was identified as a type of thistle plant calledGundelia tournefortii which was thought to have been used to fashion the Crown of Thorns worn by Jesus Christ at the Crucifixion. The plant is found primarily in Israel, around Jerusalem.
After reading the script, Cotten wrotepossible second segment across the top. She hosted a weekly science-and religion-based program called Relics that explored the facts and myths of ancient objects. This might make a good filler piece, she thought. Her prime story for the next show was the debunking of the bones thought to belong to Joan of Arc.
She did some line edits on the Shroud story, then a little more research on the Internet. But no matter what she tried to do to distract herself, two things remained on her mind for the rest of the afternoon—John Tyler and the man in the lobby.
10
She assumed John's meeting had run long, and was about to pack it in for the day when there came a knock. The new intern stood in her doorway. "Come in. Have a seat."
The girl smiled broadly.
"What's up?" Cotten asked.
After hesitating, she said, "I don't want this to come off sounding like a major suck-up, Ms. Stone, but I just needed to say what an honor it is to be able to work with you."
"Well, thank you," Cotten said. "You just made my day. And please, call me Cotten."
The girl smiled again and dropped into a chair. "Did you know we studied you in broadcasting? There's an elective on how ancient religious objects have changed our lives. It's a lot about the impact of your reporting work. When I found out SNN had accepted me into the internship program, I hoped I would just get to meet you, much less work with you."
"You're awfully sweet, and I appreciate the kind words. We work as a team at SNN, and it's only with everyone giving their all that we make those worthy accomplishments happen."
"Well, I'm just proud to be a part of it."
"So, what did you find out about our mystery man?"
The intern stared at the paper in her hand. "I followed the story right up to a dead end. I can't believe it's the first assignment you give me, and I couldn't..." She looked at Cotten. "I hope you won't be too disappointed in me."
"Give me what you've got."
She unfolded the paper and handed it to Cotten. "He died en route to the hospital. The name of the ER physician I spoke to is on there."
"Did they determine cause of death?"
"The doctor said that they brought the guy in, but there
"You're right. That guy was pretty sick. Hope he makes it." She glanced around the newsroom at the reporters and editors moving like bees in a hive.
"Talk to you later, Ted."
He waved as they parted, and Cotten headed for her office. But something kept nagging like an unscratchable itch; why had the guy in the lobby asked for her?
***
Late that afternoon, a young intern fresh out of journalism school came to Cotten's door. "Here's the first draft of the Shroud of Turin piece, Ms. Stone."
"Thanks." She motioned the girl in. "Do me a favor."
"Sure. I'd be glad to."
"You heard about the commotion in the lobby earlier?"
"Yeah. Poor guy."
"See if you can find out which hospital they transported him to and the status of his condition."
"Do you have his name?"
Cotten shook her head. "He had no ID."
"Okay, I'll see what I can come up with." She spun on her heels and scurried away.
Cotten glanced at her phone for the umpteenth time, just in case the message light was blinking and John had called while she was on the line. She swiveled her chair and peered out her window at Central Park West. This was her favorite time of year, particularly with the leaves turning and the brisk air she enjoyed during her walk to work each morning. Only when the elements would become unbearable later in the season did she give up her sidewalk commute and take a cab.
She scanned the Shroud story—a report of a new test on pollen traces found in the Shroud of Turin. The pollen was identified as a type of thistle plant calledGundelia tournefortii which was thought to have been used to fashion the Crown of Thorns worn by Jesus Christ at the Crucifixion. The plant is found primarily in Israel, around Jerusalem.
After reading the script, Cotten wrotepossible second segment across the top. She hosted a weekly science-and religion-based program called Relics that explored the facts and myths of ancient objects. This might make a good filler piece, she thought. Her prime story for the next show was the debunking of the bones thought to belong to Joan of Arc.
She did some line edits on the Shroud story, then a little more research on the Internet. But no matter what she tried to do to distract herself, two things remained on her mind for the rest of the afternoon—John Tyler and the man in the lobby.
10
She assumed John's meeting had run long, and was about to pack it in for the day when there came a knock. The new intern stood in her doorway. "Come in. Have a seat."
The girl smiled broadly.
"What's up?" Cotten asked.
After hesitating, she said, "I don't want this to come off sounding like a major suck-up, Ms. Stone, but I just needed to say what an honor it is to be able to work with you."
"Well, thank you," Cotten said. "You just made my day. And please, call me Cotten."
The girl smiled again and dropped into a chair. "Did you know we studied you in broadcasting? There's an elective on how ancient religious objects have changed our lives. It's a lot about the impact of your reporting work. When I found out SNN had accepted me into the internship program, I hoped I would just get to meet you, much less work with you."
"You're awfully sweet, and I appreciate the kind words. We work as a team at SNN, and it's only with everyone giving their all that we make those worthy accomplishments happen."
"Well, I'm just proud to be a part of it."
"So, what did you find out about our mystery man?"
The intern stared at the paper in her hand. "I followed the story right up to a dead end. I can't believe it's the first assignment you give me, and I couldn't..." She looked at Cotten. "I hope you won't be too disappointed in me."
"Give me what you've got."
She unfolded the paper and handed it to Cotten. "He died en route to the hospital. The name of the ER physician I spoke to is on there."
"Did they determine cause of death?"
"The doctor said that they brought the guy in, but there
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