Small Town Spin Read Online Free PDF Page B

while.”
    “How long a while?”
    “A couple of weeks. Maybe three,” I said. “It’s not as complicated as a DNA analysis. Just testing his blood for hydrocodone levels and alcohol. It depends on what’s in the queue.”
    “Painkillers?” Parker raised an eyebrow.
    “There was an empty bottle in his pocket. His folks said he just got the prescription refilled.”
    “And alcohol? TJ wasn’t stupid,” Parker said. “He knows better than to drink and take painkillers.”
    “I think that’s their evidence that he did it on purpose,” I said gently. “It’s the why that doesn’t fit for me.”
    “Yeah.” He shook his head again as he stood. “I should let you finish your story.”
    “Bob wants it early. Thanks for the scoop. I hope I do it justice.”
    “You will,” he said, turning for the hallway that led to his office. “Keep me in the loop, huh?”
    “Absolutely. I’m not sure how far I can get a foot in the door down there. It is a small town. Like, one stoplight, the-7-Eleven-clerk-gave-me-the-stinkeye-because-I-don’t-belong small. But I’ll keep after it.”
    “Thanks.”

    I finished typing my story, alternately giggling at funny anecdotes the Okersons had shared and swallowing tears at the memory of the little girls who missed their brother. Reading through it, I hoped it was good enough to make Ashton Okerson’s day a teensy bit easier.
    I copied Parker when I emailed the article to Bob, just in time to sprint to the staff meeting. Well, it felt like sprinting, but was probably more like dragging ass thanks to what I suspected was a full-blown sinus infection.
    I stopped short when I rounded the corner into my editor’s office and found Shelby Taylor parked in my usual seat.
    Standing just inside the door, I shot Bob a clear WTF look and got an apologetic shrug in reply.
    “Good morning, Nichelle,” Shelby purred, folding her arms over her ample chest and grinning up at me. “You look as fresh as ever.”
    I didn’t even have the energy to glare. Shelby was our copy chief, but made no bones about the fact that she wanted to be our crime reporter. And she’d tried everything from sleeping with the managing editor to ratting me out to the criminal underworld to get it, too.
    I leaned toward her and coughed. She wrinkled her nose and shrank back into the orange velour of Bob’s Virginia Tech chic armchair.
    “You should consider things like the freedom to take a sick day when you’re trying to steal someone’s beat,” I said.
    “I don’t get sick,” she snapped. “Seems like you should take more vitamins.”
    I turned to Bob. “What the hell is she doing in here, and can you make her leave?”
    “Now, ladies,” he said. “Nichelle, Shelby’s filling in for Les for the next week.”
    “She’s what? A whole week?” I tried to groan, but it sounded more like a snort. “Why? What happened to Les?”
    Our managing editor had never been one of my favorite people. He was a brown-nosing weasel who wanted Bob’s job as badly as Shelby wanted mine, but given the choice between my rival and her boyfriend, I’d take Les twice over.
    “He’s recovering from surgery,” Shelby chirped. “Andrews asked me himself if I’d step in.”
    Right. Rick Andrews was the Telegraph ’s publisher, and didn’t care about much of anything but the paper’s bottom line and image. Les was generally so far up Andrews’s backside the big boss didn’t have time to notice any of the rest of us. I had a hard time believing he knew Shelby existed.
    “How is it that we work in a newsroom and I hadn’t heard Les was having surgery?” I asked. “Is he going to be okay?”
    “It’s a minor procedure,” Shelby said, fiddling with the file folder in her lap.
    “A minor procedure he needs a week to recover from?” I perched on a plastic office chair. “I’m practically dying, and here I sit.”
    “Are y’all talking about Les’s hair plugs again?” Eunice Blakely, our features editor,