it. Of course I do.”
She fingered The Standard and held it up. “And this?” Rick-the-Dick would be flattered.
He studied her through his rimless bifocals. “I always read the enemy. It’s the—”
“Third rule of journalism. I know all your rules. You’re a good teacher.”
“Don’t think you can distract me.” He sat back down in his chair, rubbing his hip. “You’re tight-lipped. Fine. I’m going to find out if there’s more. I’m damn good at digging.”
Her lungs seized. Yes, he was. She didn’t need this.
He rocked back and forth, the squeak competing for volume with the news programs on the TV and radio.
“Aren’t you ever going to fix that squeaky chair?”
“No, it’s a comfort. Reminds me of my age. Like this chair, I’m still working.” He picked up a file. “If you change your mind about telling me, you know where to find me. You don’t have to deal with Rick-the-Dick alone.”
Her mouth dropped open. “How—”
“You Hale women. You think I don’t know what you call him?”
She cleared her throat. “I’ve finished my research on the campus drug trade. There’s not much to go on.”
He handed her a file. “Well, take a look at this one. Like I told you, more and more college kids are ending up in the ER puking their guts out. A few of my friends’ grandkids have been involved. Jill swears it’s alcohol poisoning, but…” He popped in another red hot and crunched. “My gut says there’s more.”
She flipped through his notes, not even bothering to ask how he’d received the tox screens. “Doesn’t look like the hospital found anything but marijuana and alcohol.”
“Neither of those things usually make kids sick enough to puke like that. Something’s not right.” He pointed to her. “You need to convince Jill to ask some questions.”
“No way.”
He huffed.
“Anything else?”
His mouth twisted. “No. Have your ideas for the editorial on my desk tomorrow.”
She picked at her button again, wanting to close the loop on his earlier speculation. “Please leave me in peace, Grandpa.”
His eyes lifted from the page. “If I believed you were in peace, Mermaid, I would. But you’re not. And since you won’t tell me why, I’m going to have to dig.” He picked up a file. “You’re my granddaughter, and if that prick is bothering you, I won’t tolerate it. Now, get out of here and let an old man do some work. Kitty has a desk for you.”
Meredith left with feet of clay. Her hope of keeping things a secret had soured. Arthur Hale had teased the truth out of mendacious politicians. She didn’t stand a chance. Damn. She didn’t want to protect Rick, but the information she had on him would keep him from bothering her.
Would her grandpa care? Hell no. The public had a right to know.
She was dead meat.
Chapter 9
Y ou girls have a good time,” their mom called out as Jill and Meredith walked away from the house. “See you in the morning before we take off.”
“Okay.” They both waved at her, and she hustled inside.
“Man, I’m stuffed.” Jill rubbed her belly. “Mom really is glad to have you back. Otherwise, why would she cook a spread like that right before they leave for three months?”
Meredith unlocked her Audi, marveling at the return of her appetite. It was like the switch to her taste buds and stomach had been flicked. She was actually craving food for the first time in forever. And she didn’t feel too badly about it—yet.
“I’ve gotta start swimming again, or I’ll be fatter than Aunt Harriet.”
Jill snapped her seat belt on. “Right, like you’d ever have a weight problem. Fingernails feeling a bit heavy? Muffin-top cuticles?” She snorted. “You’re skinnier than I’ve ever seen you.”
“You can credit the divorce diet. And working out like crazy. Kept me sane.”
“Well, those days are a thing of the past. We’re going to go home, get dolled up, and head out to Hairy’s tonight. Make sure you wear
She fingered The Standard and held it up. “And this?” Rick-the-Dick would be flattered.
He studied her through his rimless bifocals. “I always read the enemy. It’s the—”
“Third rule of journalism. I know all your rules. You’re a good teacher.”
“Don’t think you can distract me.” He sat back down in his chair, rubbing his hip. “You’re tight-lipped. Fine. I’m going to find out if there’s more. I’m damn good at digging.”
Her lungs seized. Yes, he was. She didn’t need this.
He rocked back and forth, the squeak competing for volume with the news programs on the TV and radio.
“Aren’t you ever going to fix that squeaky chair?”
“No, it’s a comfort. Reminds me of my age. Like this chair, I’m still working.” He picked up a file. “If you change your mind about telling me, you know where to find me. You don’t have to deal with Rick-the-Dick alone.”
Her mouth dropped open. “How—”
“You Hale women. You think I don’t know what you call him?”
She cleared her throat. “I’ve finished my research on the campus drug trade. There’s not much to go on.”
He handed her a file. “Well, take a look at this one. Like I told you, more and more college kids are ending up in the ER puking their guts out. A few of my friends’ grandkids have been involved. Jill swears it’s alcohol poisoning, but…” He popped in another red hot and crunched. “My gut says there’s more.”
She flipped through his notes, not even bothering to ask how he’d received the tox screens. “Doesn’t look like the hospital found anything but marijuana and alcohol.”
“Neither of those things usually make kids sick enough to puke like that. Something’s not right.” He pointed to her. “You need to convince Jill to ask some questions.”
“No way.”
He huffed.
“Anything else?”
His mouth twisted. “No. Have your ideas for the editorial on my desk tomorrow.”
She picked at her button again, wanting to close the loop on his earlier speculation. “Please leave me in peace, Grandpa.”
His eyes lifted from the page. “If I believed you were in peace, Mermaid, I would. But you’re not. And since you won’t tell me why, I’m going to have to dig.” He picked up a file. “You’re my granddaughter, and if that prick is bothering you, I won’t tolerate it. Now, get out of here and let an old man do some work. Kitty has a desk for you.”
Meredith left with feet of clay. Her hope of keeping things a secret had soured. Arthur Hale had teased the truth out of mendacious politicians. She didn’t stand a chance. Damn. She didn’t want to protect Rick, but the information she had on him would keep him from bothering her.
Would her grandpa care? Hell no. The public had a right to know.
She was dead meat.
Chapter 9
Y ou girls have a good time,” their mom called out as Jill and Meredith walked away from the house. “See you in the morning before we take off.”
“Okay.” They both waved at her, and she hustled inside.
“Man, I’m stuffed.” Jill rubbed her belly. “Mom really is glad to have you back. Otherwise, why would she cook a spread like that right before they leave for three months?”
Meredith unlocked her Audi, marveling at the return of her appetite. It was like the switch to her taste buds and stomach had been flicked. She was actually craving food for the first time in forever. And she didn’t feel too badly about it—yet.
“I’ve gotta start swimming again, or I’ll be fatter than Aunt Harriet.”
Jill snapped her seat belt on. “Right, like you’d ever have a weight problem. Fingernails feeling a bit heavy? Muffin-top cuticles?” She snorted. “You’re skinnier than I’ve ever seen you.”
“You can credit the divorce diet. And working out like crazy. Kept me sane.”
“Well, those days are a thing of the past. We’re going to go home, get dolled up, and head out to Hairy’s tonight. Make sure you wear
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