He laughs. “You’re too soft. You know only Hendrickson’s timing landed you that property when Everett wanted it, too. You beat him by a half second, and he’ll never forget it. No, you’re not cutthroat enough to rule this city, but Stevie, especially since you’ve dropped out of the game, she’s in it to win it.”
“Devyn was snooping around her for a reason then.”
“She said Stevie’s selling and distributing Sweet and using her shops to launder money.”
“Is she?”
“Hell, it wouldn’t surprise me. The shit’s coming from somewhere. We just ran an article yesterday. Over three hundred people in the hospital due to overdosing on the stuff. Twenty to fifty people a day kick the bucket. Overtaxing our medical services, our ambulances, funeral homes have a wait list, a fucking wait list, for a fucking funeral. Cops can’t keep hookers and dealers off the streets. Crime is on the rise. We’ve got issues here, and no one cares.”
“It sounds like Devyn did,” I say dryly. “If it’s that bad, and you think you know who’s doing it, why isn’t someone doing something about it?”
“Stevie’s pinkie-swearing with the mayor, and she’s engaged to your buddy, Everett. With him behind her, she’s untouchable. But here’s the thing, Mercer. There’s no proof. It doesn’t matter what the word on the street is. It doesn’t matter if a million people can say the same thing. We need proof to run a story, the cops need proof for a warrant. The DA needs proof to bring to trial. The jury needs proof to deliver a guilty verdict. Devyn didn’t have it. It’s that simple. When Stevie started squealing about slander, we had to cut her loose. It broke my heart, it really did, and I hear she’s still reporting up in some little hick town. Maybe she’ll make a comeback, but she’s better off lying low and hoping it blows over.”
“Did you talk to her about it?”
“Who? Devyn? Yeah. She investigated on her own time, but I knew she was sniffing around. As long as my reporters aren’t getting hurt and not hurting anyone, I let them do what they need to do. Devyn could have stumbled on to something big. Maybe she already had, but just needed time to keep digging. Stevie didn’t give it to her, but that’s not a fucking surprise, not if she’s guilty. I went up to bat for her, and you have to believe that, Mercer, but Stevie threatened to cut off advertising dollars and direct it to the Chronicle, and the guys up top went fucking ballistic. My hands were tied.”
“You do any damage control?” I ask.
Newsom scoffs. “It turned into a fucking nightmare. We had a leak, maybe we still do, and it got out I had to fire Devyn for pointing a finger at Stevie for selling Sweet. Devyn couldn’t go into a grocery store without someone harassing her. She picked the wrong woman to piss off, and I’m sorry for it. The paper issued a public apology to Stevie and said we rectified the situation the best way we could. It wasn’t long after that I heard Devyn moved out of the city with her sister. It probably would have been better for her if she’d moved out of the fucking state, but I think they have family here.”
“Their mother,” I say vaguely, thinking how close Devyn came to being taken out of the picture permanently. It sounds like what Stevie wants, Stevie gets, but it’s strange that when I lived in Cedar Hill, the woman wasn’t much on my radar at all except as a person I occasionally did business with. “How long have Stevie and Everett been engaged?”
“We ran their announcement two weeks ago. So, who knows. A few months? They’ve been on the social scene for a couple of years. At least since you’ve been laid up. They look good together, not that it matters. They were doing okay separately. Together, they’ll rule Cedar Hill. There’s already talk that nabbing an invite to their wedding means you’re in. That’s not a club I want to join, if you know what I mean. What’s the sudden interest in Devyn Scott, anyway?”
“She contacted me, asked me for an interview. I declined.”
“If you’re feeling charitable, and you want to help a girl down on her luck, an interview with you would probably boost her up a bit. She’s a good girl, she really is, and I hope she lands on her feet. I gotta get going. The next time you come into the city, let me know. I’ll buy you a drink. Take care, Mercer.”
Newsom hangs up leaving me with more questions than answers.
Devyn wasn’t lying then. I didn’t think she was, but I thought perhaps she’d been exaggerating. It sounded over the top that a couple of goons would drag her to a warehouse, threaten to hook her on Sweet all because she’d been nosing around, asking questions, but Newsom didn’t even blink when I asked if Stevie could be running Sweet around Cedar Hill.
It doesn’t change anything. Stevie’s still the sweetheart of the city, Devyn’s still fired from the Times, and the Pioneer is still going to let her go. I do a quick internet search and find that the Times and the Pioneer aren’t owned by the same conglomerate. Maybe Devyn had thought of that too and felt safe applying at any paper MediaCorp didn’t own. I could buy the Pioneer and tell this Walt guy to keep her on, but that wouldn’t stay a secret, and Devyn wouldn’t thank me. She’d hate me for keeping her from fighting her own battles.
The bottom line is her sister needs her, and with Talia being a recovering Sweet addict and Devyn running from Stevie and needing work, they won’t hang around Minnesota.
I’m going to lose her.
The weather app on my phone says the snow will stop in twelve hours, and it’s already beginning to thin, though the wind is still strong. I don’t know what I can do to keep her here. My ultimatum didn’t go anywhere because the interview is only a means to an end, and she doesn’t care if I give her one or not. I could call the city plows, ask the crew chief to plow me out last, but I don’t want them to get into the habit of doing that. I could ask her to stay, but she’s worried about her sister and wants to check on her. I could ask for her phone number, but that wouldn’t do me much good if she decides to move to Hawaii.
Or I could grow the fuck up and realize we weren’t meant to be.
Timing, circumstances. It happens.
I shoot off a quick email to Beau and tell him I won’t be online for a few days, then I brave the wind and trudge through the snow to the lighthouse. There isn’t soup on the stove like there was yesterday, but she made a fresh pot of coffee, the carafe full and hot. I pour a cup, add a little milk. We’ll, I mean,I’llbe completely out by the time I can run into town. Pete will have his own shit to do after the storm, and I’ll need to do something to keep my mind off the fact Devyn’s gone.
Sipping on coffee, I change my clothes. My jeans are wet, and I switch them out for sweats and a t-shirt. Devyn hasn’t bothered to dress, preferring to stay in comfortable, casual clothes, and I might as well follow her lead. There’s nowhere to go and nothing to do.
I try to resist searching her out. I should stay in my room and read or nap. I didn’t sleep much last night between her nightmare and rolling out of bed early to put in a couple hours of work. My back has been holding out okay, but I’ll find myself in trouble again if I don’t start honoring my normal routine. Knowing our time together is almost gone, I’m drawn to her, and I find her in the guest bedroom, the bed made, sitting on the comforter with her laptop.
“More job hunting?” I ask, my throat scratchy. Maybe I’m catching a cold.
She’s beautiful, dressed in different pajama bottoms than yesterday, a different colored tank under the same robe-like cardigan. Today, she left her hair down, and it’s a damp mess of waves down her back. Her signature rose scent drifts to me, and like moth to flame, I approach the bed and sink onto the soft mattress when she doesn’t tell me no.
I rest my palms on her cheeks and turn her head.
“Rick—”