Delivering Death: A Novel (Riley Spartz) Read Online Free PDF Page A

mall required news cameras to register with the media relations office before videotaping on-site.
    “They’ll never give us approval to shoot this,” he said, “and it’s not worth being shut out of future stories because we antagonized them by using hidden cameras.”
    “Ozzie is right,” I said, thinking fast. “We should just forgot this angle. That ice castle the mall built outside is still attracting plenty of attention. And it’s visual. How about an update?”
    Bryce disagreed and ordered me to conduct the pre-surveillance at the Mall of America this weekend and report back to him.
    “You mean tomorrow? I can’t. I have plans.”
    There was no way I could tell him I was boycotting the mall for personal reasons relating to my love life. He was the only one in the huddle who didn’t know about my broken engagement. I glanced at the other reporters around the table, hoping nobody would bring up that juicy detail in front of Bryce or suggest that might be the real reason for me shirking the mall assignment.
    “Perhaps someone else might enjoy working on the story.” I finally asked, bluntly, looking straight at Nicole.
    I knew she liked to shop. Nicole wore sleeveless sheath dresses, even in the winter, to show off her toned arms. No cleavage, just bare arms that communicated a smart-sexy look on the air. The trend was a way for women journalists to show skin on television without seeming slutty. Just the other day, Nicole had talked of giving my wardrobe of colorful blazers a similar makeover.
    I shot her a save-me look, but before she could express interest in the curfew assignment, Bryce nixed any volunteers.
    “Nope.” He shook his head, while pointing at me. “Riley, you claim to be our investigative reporter. When it comes to news, we all have to make sacrifices for our job. You’ll just have to change your plans.”
    I played my ace. “I’m sorry, Bryce. But I’m going to my high school reunion. Many of my old classmates are Channel 3 viewers. I can’t disappoint them.”

CHAPTER 9
    P arking was the worst.
    CLOSED signs flashed at each of the lower levels in the Mall of America ramp. Waiting in bumper-to-bumper traffic, I cursed my news director.
    I lost both ends of my fight with Bryce, and was going to have to go to two places I would rather have avoided: the mall and my reunion. He decided there was time for both, that I could case the mall starting midafternoon Friday and drive to my hometown on Saturday. I had been using my reunion as a bluff, but now he was insisting I post a picture of myself with my classmates on Channel 3’s Facebook page and tag their names to their pages.
    “It will be a great ‘relatable,’ ” Bryce said. “That’s the key to social media promotion. People have to relate to you by feeling you share common interests or experiences outside your job. Kids. Pets. A class reunion. Those all work.”
    I was tempted to add bad bosses to his list of relatables, but knew better than to push him too far.
    Finally, I found a parking space at the mall and took a picture of the nearest numbered pillar with my cell phone to help me find my vehicle later. I don’t like wandering around the ramp alone at night when it’s easy to become disorientated in the vast space and—in my case—spooked by the shadows.
    Yet, I’m always wowed when I walk inside the Mall of America, sort of like Dorothy was when finally entering the Emerald City before clashing with winged monkeys and a wicked witch.
    MOA is an enclosed city, with more than 100,000 people passing through many days. Shopaholics surrounded me, eager for a buy, but not necessarily a bargain. Surveys estimate nearly half of all the mall visitors are tourists—some traveling from around the world to browse specialty stores under one roof. And they’re willing to pay top dollar for the experience, especially since Minnesota has no sales tax on clothing.
    I walked a lap of about half a mile and when four o’clock