"Okay, Cronkite." He unlocked the door and staggered back as the dog leaped joyously at him. His thick body was shivering. "Scared you, did he? Me too. Let's find Deanna."

He searched every room, growing colder with every moment. The devastation was as total as tornado damage, both the priceless and the trivial capriciously destroyed.

But the worst, the most terrifying, was the message scrawled in Deanna's lipstick on the wall above the bed they shared.


I loved you

I killed for you

I hate you


"Thank God she wasn't here. Thank God." Grimly he picked up the phone and called the police.

"Take it easy." Lieutenant Jenner helped Deanna steady a glass of water.

"I'm all right now." But her teeth chattered on the rim of the glass. "I'm sorry. I know I was incoherent before."

"Understandable." He'd had a good long look at Angela Perkins's body and found Deanna's condition understandable indeed. He didn't blame her for huddling inside the locked room, needing to be gently persuaded to open the door to admit him. "You're going to want to have a doctor take a look at you."

"I'm fine, really."

Shock, he imagined. It was nature's way of closing down the system and offering the illusion of comfort. But her eyes were still glassy, and even though he'd thrown his overcoat over her shoulders, she was shivering.

"Can you tell me what happened?"

"I found her. I came in and found her." "What were you doing at the studio after midnight?"

"She asked me to meet her. She called — she…" She sipped again. "She called."

"So you arranged to meet her here." "She wanted to — to talk to me. She said she had information about…" Defenses clicked in. "About something I needed to know. I wasn't going to come, then I thought it might be best if we had it out."

"What time did you get here?"

"It was midnight. I looked at my watch in the parking lot." The colored lights in the distance, the haze of Christmas cheer. "It was midnight. I thought maybe she hadn't arrived yet, but she could have had her driver drop her off. So I let myself into the studio. And it was dark, so I thought she wasn't here, and that was good. I wanted to be first. Then, when I started to turn on the lights, something hit me. When I woke up I was on the set, and I couldn't think. The camera was on. Oh, God, the camera was on, and I saw, in the monitor, I saw her." She pressed a hand to her mouth to hold back the whimpers.

"Take a minute." Jenner leaned back. "I don't know anything else. I ran in here and locked the door. I called the police, and I passed out."

"Did you see anybody on your way to the studio?" "No. No one. The cleaning crews would have gone by now. There would be a few people in the newsroom, manning the desk overnight, but after the last broadcast, the building clears out."

"You need a card to get into the building, don't you?"

"Yes. They put in a new security system about a year ago."

"Is this your purse, Miss Reynolds?" He held out a generous shoulder bag in smooth black leather.

"Yes, that's mine. I must have dropped it when I — when I came in."

"And this card." He held up a clear plastic bag. Inside was a slim, laminated card with her initials in the corner.

"Yes, that's mine."

He set the bag aside and continued to take notes. "What time did Miss Perkins contact you about this meeting?"

"About five. She called my office." "Your secretary took the call?"

"No, she'd already gone home. I took it myself." Something trembled through the shield of shock. "You think I killed her? You think I did that to her? Why?" She lurched to her feet, swaying like a drunk as the overcoat slid to the floor. "How could I? Why would I? Do you think I lured her here, and murdered her, then taped it all so I could show it to all my loyal viewers in the morning?"

"Calm down, Miss Reynolds." Jenner got cautiously to his feet. She looked as though she might dissolve if he touched her. "No one's accusing you of anything. I'm just trying to get the facts."

"I'll give the facts. Someone killed her. Someone blew her face away and propped her up on the set. Oh God." She pressed a hand to her head. "This can't be real."

"Sit down and catch your breath." Jenner took her by the arm. There was a commotion in the corridor behind him and he turned to the door.

"Goddamn it, I want to see her." Finn shoved his way clear of the cop trying to detain him and burst through the doorway. "Deanna." He sprinted forward as she swayed toward him. "You're all right." He vised his arms around her, burying his face in her hair. "You're all right."

"Finn." She pressed against him, desperate for the feel of his flesh, his warmth, his comfort. "Someone killed Angela. I found her. Finn, I found her."

But he was already drawing her away, appalled by the swelling and matted blood on the back of her head. Relief twisted into a dark, keen thirst for revenge. "Who hurt you?"

"I don't know." She burrowed back into his arms. "I didn't see. They think I did it. Finn, they think I killed her."

Over her trembling shoulder he stared stonily at Jenner. "Are you out of your mind?"

"Miss Reynolds is mistaken. We have no intention of charging her at this time. Nor, in my opinion, in the future."

"Then she's free to go."

Jenner rubbed his chin. "Yes. We'll need her to sign a statement, but we can do it tomorrow. Miss Reynolds, I know you've had a shock, and I apologize for having to put you through the questioning. I advise you to go by the hospital, have someone take a look at you."

"I'll take her. Deanna." Gently

Finn eased her back to the chair. "I want you to wait here a minute. I need to talk to Lieutenant Jenner."

She clung to his hand. "Don't leave." "No, just outside the door. Just for a minute. Detective."

Jenner followed Finn into the corridor, nodding to a uniform to back off. "She's had a rough night, Mr. Riley."

"I'm aware of that. I don't want you to add to it."

"Neither do I. But certain wheels have to turn. I've got a nasty murder, and as far as I can tell, she's the only witness. You wouldn't mind telling me where you were tonight?"

Finn's eyes cooled. "No, I wouldn't. I was taping a segment on the South Side. I'd guess I'd have about a dozen witnesses to place me there until about midnight. My driver took me home, dropped me off just after one. I put in a call to 911 at one-twenty."

"Why?"

"Because my house had been trashed. You want to verify that, contact your superior."

"I don't doubt your word, Mr. Riley." Jenner rubbed his chin again, toying with the timetable. "You said one-twenty?"

"Give or take a minute. Whoever broke in left a message for Deanna on the bedroom wall. You can check with your associates for details. I'm getting Deanna out of here."

"I'll do that." Jenner made another note. "Mr. Riley, I'd take her out another way. I wouldn't want her going through the studio."

"Hey, Arnie!" Another plainclothes cop signaled from the studio end of the corridor. "M.e.'s finished here."

"Tell him to hang on a minute. We'll be in touch, Mr. Riley."

Saying nothing, Finn turned back into the dressing room. He took off his own coat, pushing Deanna's limp arms through the sleeves. He didn't want to waste time looking for hers. "Come on, baby, let's get out of here."

"I want to go home." She leaned heavily against him as he led her out.

"No way. I'm taking you to E.r." "Don't leave me there."

"I'm not leaving you."

He took the long way around, circumventing the studio, choosing the angled stairs that led to the parking lot. Because he knew what to expect before he opened the door, he kissed her brow, held her by the shoulders.

"The place is going to be swarming with reporters and Minicams."

She squeezed her eyes tight, shivered. "I know. It's okay."

"Just hold on tight to me."

"I already am."

When he shoved the door open, the flash of klieg lights blinded her. She shielded her eyes and saw nothing but eager bodies rushing toward her, microphones stabbing out like lances and the wide, demanding eye of the camera.

Questions hurtled at her, making her hunch her shoulders in defense as Finn propelled her through the surging sea of reporters.

She knew most of them, she realized. Liked most of those she knew. Once upon a time they had competed for stories. Once upon a time she would have been among them, pressing forward, scurrying for that one telling picture, that one mumbled comment.

Then flying to the news desk to get the item— she was an item now — on the air minutes, even seconds, before the competition. But she was no longer the observer. She was the observed. How could she tell them how she felt? How could she tell them what she knew? Her mind was like glass, throbbing from some deadly, high-pitched whine. She thought if she couldn't have silence, she would explode and shatter.

"Christ, Dee."

A hand reached for her, hesitating as she cringed away. And she saw Joe, the Minicam on his shoulder, his baseball cap askew.

"I'm sorry," he said, and swore again. "I'm really sorry."

"It's all right. I've been there, remember? It's just the job." She climbed gratefully into Finn's car and closed her eyes. Tuned out.


Jenner turned the studio over to the forensic team. Since he'd already had two men question the occupants of the building, he decided to wait until morning before doing a follow-up there. Instead, he left the CBC Building and drove to Finn Riley's home.