Read Online Death of an Intern by Keith M. Donaldson - Free Book Online

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    â€œThis is the most sickening piece…”
    I put my head in my hands, elbows on my knees, trying to hide what my face must be saying. I knew what was going on inside me, but I wasn't about to tell Lassiter. Not now anyway.
    â€œShit happens,” my boss said.
    â€œCruelty doesn't describe this unmitigated brutality. What kind of a person does this?” I was near tears. Too many emotions were mixing up inside me to mask them all in the cold world of journalism.
    Lassiter approached and tapped my shoulder with a box of tissues. I took it.
    â€œYou don't seem yourself. You want off this one?”
    â€œNo!” My response was sharp, like Marsha's had been about Janet not planning an abortion. I took a tissue. I was too tired, too wrung out to be of any help to myself. Maybe Jerry was right. This was a bigger story than what I normally handled. “This is what happens to me when I have to work on Sundays.” My attempt at light humor fell flat. Lassiter returned to behind her desk
    I imagined MPD detectives were with Mrs. Rice about now. I sat up and blew my nose. Lassiter sat eyeing me intently.
    â€œMaybe this is a serial killing. I wrote what I know, but I know more than I wrote. I have a lot of uncorroborated stuff in my head. Janet's roommate knows very little, but still told me a lot, little everyday things. Not evidence, but clues leading to evidence.
    â€œI called Captain Walsh and told him about Tishana Rice, who had made an appointment at an inner city pregnancy clinic for Janet for late yesterday afternoon. She left the clinic alive and was supposedly on her way to see Kat Turner, a young woman who also works for the Vice President. Marsha wasn't concerned when Janet didn't come home, because she had stayed over at Kat's before.”
    Lassiter listened, showing no expression.
    â€œThis is all stuff which only I know. It's as if I turned on a hose and can't turn it off. According to Marsha, Janet had no known boyfriend, yet she became pregnant. Her total social life was wrapped around the people at work. Marsha knew little about Janet's life there, which seems strange to me. Lots of secrets.”
    Lassiter's stare was boring into me. When she spoke, there was darkness in her tone.
    â€œYou talk to no one about this but me. Nothing you do, no information, no matter its significance do you share with anyone here except me.” Lassiter said clear and firm.
    Our eyes met, coalesced. There was no mistaking her meaning,
    â€œI should hear soon from Captain Walsh about Tishana Rice. If she confirms Marsha's story to the MPD detectives, I'll have corroborated stuff no one else has.”
    â€œAnd you'll write that,” Lassiter said flatly.
    â€œAlong with checking on any possible connections between Thalma Williams and Janet Rausch, just in case.”
    Lassiter browsed papers on her desk. “I'll have Wilder do that, a routine background on Williams and the clinic. You'll have your hands full. Having a piece of the serial action will keep him from being too bent out of shape over your A-1 story.”
    My pulse rate surged when I heard A-1 story. I grabbed hold of my emotions before my mouth made a mistake. Lassiter had done it, gotten me on page one.
    â€œOkay,” I said carefully. “I'll push for more information on Rausch, which means I'll be treading on Gerty's street.”
    â€œDon't mug anybody along the way.”
    I slowly walked out of Lassiter's office. My feelings were euphoric. I had just been given permission to go deep into this story.
    Max called about an hour later. “Two detectives visited a very distraught Tishana Rice and mother. Tishana took Ms. Rausch to the 2nd Street Clinic, and yes, she had gone there herself four years earlier for an abortion, and, no, she did not know Thalma Williams.
    â€œWe called the director at home to come in and open up the clinic for us. We are cordoning off a block in each direction of the clinic,