Page 32 of Villainous Mind

He tilted my chin up with the knuckle of his finger. “Then you still have a job, and we still have two missing girls. Don’t give up. Let me make you dinner. We can avoid the crowds,” he suggested.

I nodded.

“I’ll give you my address,” he said.

“My car is in the garage getting fixed. Perhaps we should just meet at the pub.”

“I’ll pick you up. Where are you staying?”

“Môr Haven Manor. Everything else was booked, and with my car out of service, I didn’t really have a choice.”

He shook his head and grimaced. “I’ll get you at seven.”

“Okay.”

“I’ve got to go. Be careful.” He left and went back to the house.

Sam was still waiting behind the barricade. Most of the press had already dispersed. “Please can we talk? I didn’t steal your story.”

“Please explain, then, how the words I wrote ended up with your name on them,” I spat.

“Granger did it. He wanted a more experienced journalist’s name on the front page. Especially dealing with crime.”

“And you let him?”

“I didn’t have a choice,” he said, exasperated. “And I’ll remind you of the irony. You originally stole the story from me.”

“I only followed up on your theory, which, by the way, turned out to be a bust.”

“Granger still thinks there could be a story there.”

“Fuck Granger,” I said, then paused. “Wait, he’s sent you here to investigate it.”

“Yes, he did,” Sam admitted.

“So, am I supposed to go home? Do I even have a job at the Times?” I questioned.

“Yes, you have a job, and from the look of it, you seem to have acquired a source. We should work together,” he said.

“Work together.” I laughed. “I don’t think so, Sam.”

His mouth was pinched so tight it looked like he was sucking on a sour candy. “Are you sleeping with the detective?”

My heart began to pound in my chest, and I felt my face grow hot. “You’re a cunt.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

“You can take it as a no,” I blazed.

“You’ll regret it, Navy. I promise you will regret not working with me.” He stormed off.

I felt my resolve begin to falter and pinched the bridge of my nose to keep myself from crying. I could not break down now.

Not now.

I took a deep breath. If I didn’t continue for myself, I would do it for Mary and Anwen. Their story deserved to be told. It was evident to me now that even if I had a lead in the story, I would have nowhere to publish it. Granger would never give me the credit for anything published in the Times. To him, I would always be nothing more than an errand girl or someone he could slap on the ass. I was headed back to the harbor when I came across the young man who was standing in the doorway at Bryn’s house. He was laying a bouquet of flowers and a teddy bear on the ground by a tree and was clearly upset.

I stopped. “Is everything okay?” I asked.