Dead Air Page 13

  “What about Gabby’s slashed tires?”

  “What about them?”

  “Did you find any fingerprints or anything on the vehicle?”

  “That really is none of your business.” The sheriff tapped the table. “Just bring those to the officer at the desk when you’re done. Lou sent over a rental right away. It’s parked in the lot and the officer up front has the keys.”

  Which meant the conversation was over. No sense asking more.

  Sheriff McGruder ambled from the room, leaving the door open. Clark completed the forms, then took them to the front desk. He picked up the rental car keys from the officer, then headed out the front door.

  A light drizzle coated his head and shoulders. He slipped into the car with the rental plates, cranked the engine, and then adjusted the radio to KLUV’s frequency.

  “…so call me, Mystique, and share your loves and longings. I’m Gabby Rogillio, here to play your dedications.”

  Her voice was a life preserver in a stormy sea. Clark slipped the car in Reverse, checked his rearview mirror, then backed out of the parking space. While Gabby’s shift would be ending in a couple of hours, he steered toward KLUV. He could always use the excuse of giving her the information he’d learned from Aunt Beulah.

  But he knew that was merely an excuse. Somewhere in the middle of it all, Gabby Rogillio had snuck under his skin.

  And stuck there.

  He waved at Walter when he pulled into the lot, then eased his car slowly around the building. Clark secured the rental, then headed to the entrance. Gabby would be the only one inside, and he didn’t want to alarm her.

  The piped-in music of KLUV filled the vacant reception area. He’d have to see about hiring a full-time receptionist. Clark had high aspirations for the station, ones that involved a lot of calls, and not just to the dedication lines.

  He turned, making his way silently down the hall. The red light over the studio door blazed. He peeked through the window to find Gabby hunched over a laptop, her brows creased. She wore a headset around her neck like an accessory. What could she be concentrating so hard on? With his finger, he tapped on the window.

  She jumped, then waved him in. “How’s your jaw?”

  He closed the studio door behind him and rubbed his chin. “A little sore, but I’ve had worse.” Heart thumping, he dropped to the chair in front of the control center. “How’re you?”

  “I’m not the one who got into a slugfest in the parking lot.”

  “Touché. I found out something today.” And he proceeded to tell her what his Aunt Beulah had shared with him about Sam Wood and Amber Ellison.

  Confusion glimmered in her eyes as she took care of making more dedications before turning back to him. “I don’t know what to make of it all.”

  “We can’t disregard your slashed tires and call, either.”

  She queued another song, then stared back at him.

  “I asked the sheriff if he’d found any fingerprints or trace evidence on your vehicle.”

  “And?”

  Clark shrugged. “He wouldn’t tell me. Said it was none of my business.”

  “Sounds about right for McGruder. You’d have thought he would’ve called me earlier today to let me know I could pick up my truck instead of just adding it as an afterthought to ordering me to the station tomorrow.”

  “True.” He waited while she did her deejay thing again, then smiled. “So I think we have a starting place for our investigation. Sam Wood’s and Amber Ellison’s past.”

  “Clark, why did you hire a security guard?”

  Because I’m insanely attracted to you? Probably wouldn’t be the brightest idea to blurt that out just yet. “Because I want to get the truth before someone else gets hurt.”

  He couldn’t take it if anything happened to any of the employees. But especially Gabby.

  FIFTEEN

  Gabby flipped the switch to loop a commercial set. She glanced at the clock—barely an hour left on her shift. “Okay. Let’s look at it this way—Sam Wood had every reason to hate Robert.” Just stating that felt wrong. “Is there a link between Sam and Howard?”

  Clark leaned back in the chair, his expression less tense. “You’re the local. Have you ever heard of anything?”

  “No, but I had no clue about Sam and Amber, either.”

  “I could ask my aunt.” He glanced at the clock. “But she won’t be up for a couple more hours.”

  She snapped her fingers. “Sheldon.”

  “What’s Sheldon got to do with this?”

  She giggled. “She’s Mystique’s librarian. I bet she could dig around and see if there’s any connection between them.”

  “But it’s not even six in the morning.”

  “Sheldon gets up at four-thirty to do her yoga routine.” She reached for the phone and pressed numbers, keeping an eye on the on-air loop. Two minutes and fourteen seconds left.

  “What’s up, Gab?” Sheldon always checked her caller ID before answering.

  “I need a favor.” Two minutes and two seconds left.

  Sheldon’s throaty laugh filled the connection. “Well, I didn’t think you’d call me this early for my tea biscuit recipe.”

  Gabby laughed, her spirits lifted just by hearing her friend’s voice. “Good point.”

  “Whatcha need?”

  “I need you to search everything you can and see if you can find a connection between Sam Wood and Howard Alspeed.”

  “What kind of connection?” Sheldon’s voice grew tense.

  “Any.” One minute and eighteen seconds left.

  “I’ll see what I can find. Gab, what’s going on?”

  One minute left. “Long story. I’ll fill you in later.”

  “You got it.”

  “Thanks, Shel. Really appreciate it.” Thirty-two seconds left.

  “Call you when I find something.”

  Gabby hung up, settled the headphones over her ears and pressed her mic button. “This is Gabby Rogillio, thanking you for tuning in tonight and sharing your love stories with me. Join me again tonight at ten, when I’ll send out more of your love dedications. Until then, live and love well, Mystique.” She clicked off the on-air button, queued up KLUV’s station identification announcement and slipped off the headset.

  “And that’s it?” Clark shoved to his feet.

  “That’s it.” She stood and stretched, her back aching. “Kevin should be here by now. If he’s on time.” She reached for her case.

  “Is he late often?” Clark stood beside her.

  “Enough.” She froze as she set the timer to how much time was left on the circle of announcements. “I keep forgetting you’re the boss now. I don’t want to get him into trouble.”

  “Don’t worry about it.” But his brow tightened.

  “Clark, I can’t worry about being around you if I’m going to have to watch everything I say. In case you haven’t noticed, I have a tendency to spout off when the emotion hits me.” Heat tickled her face as he smiled.

  Great. She had to be as transparent as the window.

  Luckily, Kevin chose that moment to barge into the studio. “Hey, Gabby. Hiya, Mr. McKay.” He flopped into the chair, jerked the headphones over his ears and queued up his mic. “Good morning, Mystique. This is Kevin Duffy, here to take you through rush hour. I’ll be back with you in a jiffy to give you a weather and traffic update. Until then, here’s something to get you rolling.” He pressed a lever and the opening bars of “I Can’t Drive 55” filled the air.

  Gabby shook her head and led Clark from the studio. Kevin might be unorthodox, but morning listeners seemed to love him. Didn’t flinch from his taking over Howard’s time slot.

  Speaking of Howard…his funeral had yet to be set due to the fact that his extended family had to be located. Otherwise, friends would have to arrange his funeral.

  The knot in Gabby’s gut tightened. Maybe Sheldon would find a connection.

  Soon.

  The rain came do
wn harder as Gabby ran to her SUV parked in the back of the sheriff’s office. Her shirt stuck to her back, but she preferred the rain to the intensity of filing her report with McGruder. His lack of finding any evidence on her vehicle reeked of inadequacy. After starting the engine, she laid her forehead against the steering wheel and closed her eyes. What a morning.

  Lord, I’m drowning down here. Show me what to do.

  Her cell phone beeped.

  “Hello.”

  “Hey, Gab. Whatcha doing?” Imogene’s sweet voice made Gabby smile.

  She slipped the vehicle in gear and pulled onto the road. “Just leaving the sheriff’s office from getting my truck back. What’re you doing?”

  “Calling to see if you wanted to meet for lunch.”

  Ah, Immy’s in-tune radar was right on target. “I’d love that.”

  “Meet me at Ms. Minnie’s?”

  “On my way.”

  The drive only took ten minutes. Little gusts of wind shoved water everywhere, soaking Gabby as she rushed into the diner.

  “Lands a-mighty, child, you look like a drowned rat.” Ms. Minnie passed her monogrammed handkerchief to Gabby.

  “Thanks.” Gabby dabbed at her face while heading to the booth in the corner. “Can I get some coffee, Ms. Minnie?”

  “Go ahead on back, honey. I’ll be right there.”

  Gabby hugged Imogene before sitting down. “I’m so glad you called me for lunch.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “You just always seem to know when I need a little of your TLC.”

  “What’s happened now?” What Immy’s eyes lacked in luster, they more than made up for with expressing emotion.

  “What hasn’t happened? Let’s see, Mr. Tankersly and Clark got into a wreck, then a fistfight last night at the station.”

  “Great day in the morning! What happened?”

  Gabby filled her friend in on the events, then smiled as Ms. Minnie poured her a cup of steaming, aromatic coffee. She handed the sweet lady her handkerchief back.

  “Special today is chicken-fried steak.” Ms. Minnie straightened.

  Gabby’s mouth watered. “Oh, that sounds great. I’ll take it.”

  “Me, too,” Immy piped up.

  “Be right out.”

  “So,” Immy dumped cream into her coffee and then straightened the creamer next to the sugar tray. “What else?”

  Gabby blew into her cup, the heat bouncing back against her face a welcome relief to the cool rain seeping into her bones. “Oh. And get this.” She took a quick sip, then set the cup on the table before filling her friend in on what she and Clark had discovered.

  “It’s nice you two are working together.”

  “Nice? I don’t know about that. I mean, he explained about what happened to him in Philadelphia. Of course, he doesn’t want the same thing to happen to Robert.”

  “So what?” Immy lined the salt and pepper shakers in perfect alignment with the sugar tray. “I still say you’re part of the reason he cares so much.”

  “No. I’m not.” Gabby swallowed back the groan.

  “Come on, Gab. What do you think I am, blind? I can see the interest and attraction flying between you two like bees to honey.” She lowered her voice as she traced the rim of her mug. “Why don’t you just admit you’re being too hard on Mr. McKay because you’re scared?”

  “Scared?” Gabby’s heart fluttered as her pulse spiked. “What, pray tell, would I be scared of?”

  Immy shook her head, her eyes soft and caring. “Scared of letting yourself trust another man. Especially a man involved in your industry.”

  Gabby swallowed against the now softball-size lump in her chest. Immy was the only one of the girls who knew the whole sorry story of why she’d changed her major from broadcast journalism to radio communications—the only one who knew about how she’d let herself fall in love with a man, only to discover he’d been using her for a story and nothing more.

  “Sweetie, it’s okay to be wary.” Immy laid a comforting hand over hers. “But Clark McKay is not Blake Riggsdale. He’s not out to hurt you.”

  “How can you be sure? We don’t know him. He’s a Yankee, for pity’s sakes.”

  Immy squeezed her hand. “That doesn’t make him a playboy.”

  Gabby shrugged as Ms. Minnie approached with two plates. “I don’t know, but I’ll think about it.”

  “No, pray about it.”

  Just then, Tonna breezed into the diner and slid into the booth beside Imogene. “Thought I’d find y’all here.” She nudged Immy. “I called the clinic, and they said you’d gone to lunch.”

  “What’s up?” Gabby asked.

  Tonna’s response had to wait as Ms. Minnie approached. Tonna gave her order for the special, and Ms. Minnie shuffled back to the kitchen.

  “Ms. LouAnn came in this morning for a rinse.” Tonna shook her head. “I swear, that woman just likes to come into town to catch up. Her hair was fine. But she does know what’s going on in Mystique, that’s for sure.”

  “Ton-na.” Immy waved her fork toward their friend.

  “Okay, okay. Anyway, I thought maybe I could get some more information about Mr. Sam from Ms. LouAnn.”

  Gabby’s hope deflated. She already knew about Sam and Amber.

  “According to Ms. LouAnn, she and Mr. Tankersly were once an item.” Tonna’s eyes widened. “Can you imagine?”

  Ms. LouAnn and Mr. Tankersly? Would the secret loves of the town’s elders never cease to amaze? Gabby shook her head as Ms. Minnie set a steaming plate in front of Tonna, refilled the coffee cups, then headed back to her station behind the counter.

  Tonna kept on with her story. “Seems Ms. LouAnn and Mr. Tankersly still talk quite a bit, despite the fact that she says there’s nothing more than a platonic friendship between them.” She waggled her eyebrows. “Like I’m supposed to believe that?”

  “Tonna,” Immy admonished.

  “Anyhoo, she says Mr. Tankersly tried to hire Howard out from under Robert, but Howard refused.” Tonna shoved a bite into her mouth.

  “No big surprise there. Howard wouldn’t leave because he owned stock in KLUV.”

  “No, Ms. LouAnn said this was after Howard had sold his stock to Robert. She said Mr. Tankersly was furious. Her exact words were, and I quote, ‘Martin was beyond livid. I’ve never seen him that angry before.’ End quote.”

  Gabby’s stomach clenched, and it had nothing to do with Ms. Minnie’s cooking.

  Brring!

  Gabby grabbed her cell, checked the caller ID and answered. “Hey, Shel. What’s up?”

  “Found a connection between Sam and Howard.”

  Gabby’s heart raced. “What?”

  “In the paper from twenty years ago, I’m looking at a picture of Sam and Howard. They were partners in a fishing tournament, and they look rather chummy.”

  What could that mean? “Shel, is there any information listed in the article about them?”

  “Nothing that I can find. I’ll keep looking, but you said you were interested in any connection. This picture makes it look like they’re the best of friends.”

  Yet Gabby had never seen them together nor heard Howard even mention Mr. Sam. Had they had a falling-out? “Thanks, Shel. I appreciate it.”

  But what did it all mean?

  Maybe things would turn around this evening. She finished her supper, then headed to work. She hadn’t gotten any sleep, and here she was, back at work. The station was as quiet as a tomb. She knocked lightly on Eric’s closed office door.

  “Come in.”

  She pushed open the door and studied the station manager. In all the time she’d worked with Eric, she’d never seen him close his office door. She’d also never seen him look quite so undone. “Are you okay? You look a little peaked.” Gabby crossed the room and peered at him. “Are you coming down with something?”

  He waved off her concern. “I’m fine. Just a little confused over Martin’s arrest last night.”


  “Yeah, it was grim.” She sank into the cracked leather chair. “He said you called and asked him to meet you here.”

  “I’m still wondering what’s up with that. As if I’d call him, of all people.”

  “Who knows? I told McGruder it had to be a lie because you hate him.”

  “Ain’t that the truth.” Eric chuckled, but it came out lifeless. “The man never stops thinking of ways to torment me.”

  “Just him being here is suspicious.”

  “I know.” Eric’s eyes hardened, as did his facial expression. “I know I said before that Martin wasn’t likely to be involved in the attacks, but if you’re convinced it wasn’t Robert, maybe it was Martin after all. He has an explosive temper. Bad. And it can get violent.”

  Her heart broke for the little boy he’d been, the one who’d been abused. “I’m sorry, Eric. I never knew.”

  “Most people didn’t.” He shrugged. “He hid it well, and I wasn’t one to go around whining. I mean, he was only my stepfather—he could have kicked me out anytime after Mom died.”

  “That’s horrible. Do you think he could kill someone?”

  “I don’t want to think so, but…maybe.” Eric ran a hand over his stubbly chin. “Many times he threatened to kill me if I didn’t adhere to his rules.”

  She leaned to lay her hand over his. “I don’t know what else to say except I’m so sorry.”

  He brushed off her touch. “It’s all in the past.”

  “Yeah.” She struggled to stand. “I need to go get my call sheets.”

  “I’ll close this up and then head out.”

  She grinned and staggered down the hall, her mind reeling with information overload.

  After storing her purse in her locker, Gabby flipped out the lights to the break room. She clutched her cup of coffee and call sheets, and strode down the hall to Eric’s office.

  The lights were out, and Eric was nowhere to be found. The glow from his computer terminal lit the office. Gabby smiled. He forgot to turn off his monitor a lot.

  As she made her way into his darkened office, she flipped on the light switch and noticed his suits hanging on the tree stand. He must have left in a hurry, he even forgot his dry cleaning.

  She moved past the stand and knocked off one of the covered hangers. Gabby jerked it up and hung it again, smoothing down the transparent plastic. Fingering the creases out, she noticed the dry cleaning slip stapled to the top.