Sarah simply smiled.
“Wait. You knew?” I looked from one of them to the other. How had they not shared this information the second I got the job? Because they’d been busy with actual life stuff, I reminded myself.
Sarah raised a nonchalant shoulder. “Kristin’s had her over before, and she had that same woman with her, so yes, it was pretty easy to surmise.”
Emory nodded. “The covers on books don’t always tell their whole story.”
My mind raced. “So I am finding.”
Sarah leaned in. “Are you crushing on Carrie?”
“What if I am?” It wasn’t anything new. The crush just took on new meaning now.
They exchanged another look. My pseudo-parents were checking in with each other. They seemed to decide that Sarah would take this one. “But let me ask this. Is it wise to get involved with someone you work with?”
“Involved? No. Are you crazy? There’s no way we’re involved or even on our way. This is Caroline McNamara we’re talking about here. And me, a rando reporter, trying to keep my eyeballs above water in a major market I have no business working in.”
“Rando?”
I grappled to explain. “A nobody. Inconsequential in her orbit. Aka me.”
They looked at each other.
I sighed, exasperated. “Why do you keep doing that? No more secret couple’s-knowing-look eye things.”
“That’s really not something you can police,” Emory said simply. “It just happens. Like the wind.”
Sarah turned to me. “But you can look out for yourself. That’s something you can do. You can also stop selling yourself short. You’re every bit as important as Carrie. Just as smart and just as beautiful.”
She was crazy but came from a good place. “Bless you for thinking so.”
“Hermosa, I know what I know.” She placed a hand on my forearm. “Just keep your wits about you. This job is all you ever wanted.”
“Well, I don’t plan to blow it.” A pause because my brain was stuck like a record with a scratch on it. “She dates women, you guys.”
Emory laughed. “You should see the smile on your face. Want us to walk you to your car?”
“Yes, please. I have a car, right?”
“You do,” Sarah reassured me.
As I drove home, I danced. Excited about the evening, going to work that Monday, and the invitation to Carrie’s house. It was what I did when good things happened. With the windows down and the San Diego night air in my hair, I drove along the shoreline, soaking it all in. This was my new life, and it felt like things were finally starting to happen. I heard Sarah’s words in my head: Just keep your wits about you. But for tonight, I wanted to feel.
On impulse, I looped my car around, parked in one of those paid lots, and made my way down to the beach. I slipped my shoes off, and with heels dangling from my fingertips, I walked through the sand, squishing my toes into it as the cool tide rolled across the tops of my feet. Then and there, I nodded up at the sky full of stars overhead, granting the universe permission to take me on whatever journey seemed to be beckoning me.
“Let’s do this,” I said quietly.
Chapter Six
Seth had struck again. Sweet Betsy.
When I heard the traffic on the police scanners, that was my first thought. “Whoa. Wait a sec. Did you hear that?” I asked Mila, who was manning the assignment desk. I’d stopped by to see if there was anything interesting in the works that I could grab hold of early when I caught the chatter. Mila had become a great resource, and the more interest I showed in what went on behind the assignments desk, the more she kept me in the loop about possible stories in the pipeline.
Mila squinted, which I’d learned was what she did when concentrating. “Something about a botched robbery,” she said and turned up the volume on the channel. We listened to the back-and-forth conversation between officers, most of it in police code I’d gotten pretty good at unscrambling. Someone had attempted to rob a 7-Eleven and had ended up firing their gun into the shelf full of chips, sending Cheetos, Funyuns, and Ruffles flying into oblivion. The guy fled on foot, making away with absolutely nothing. I checked the address on the map Mila had on her screen.
“This sounds eerily familiar,” I told her. “I’m gonna grab Ty and head over.”
“Got it. Let me know if you have anything, and I’ll keep Devante posted.”
The cops were just finishing up their report when we arrived. I grinned to see my police pal Jake exiting the store wearing his hat and going over his notes. “Hey, you.”
He looked up, stared, and broke into a smile. “Skyler the coffee-swilling reporter.”
“Just here for a gas station hot dog.”
“Sure you are.” He glanced behind him. “Not much of a story here unless there’s wasted-chip outrage. Does your station cover that kind of thing?”
“It does. When I heard the chips were caught up in all this, I raced over to fight for justice.”
He nodded, not at all buying it and catching me looking at his notes. “Something I can help you with, nosy?”
“Do we know the perp’s name, and is it Seth?”
“We do not. And Seth?” He studied me. “What do you know?”
“Between you and me, there was a similar incident about three miles from here a few weeks ago. Perp got scared and fired his gun into the floor. Young white guy, goes by the name of Seth, which is a fantastic criminal name if you ask me. It’s what I would choose.”
I could tell from the look on his face that the description likely matched. “Seth, huh?” He made a note in the margin of his little pad. “Interesting.” As my eyes scanned his unreadable scribbles, he flipped the notebook closed before I could get much. “Saw your story. You kept your word.”
“Always. I promised you anonymity. I would never go back on that. In fact, I owe you for the intel.” I leaned in. “I know where to find free chips. You don’t even have to open the bag.”
He grinned. “You’re pretty good at this reporter thing.”
“Aww, shucks, Jake. Anything you can tell me?”
“Nope.”
“Fair enough. Until next time?”
“You bet.”
I headed inside and joined Ty, who’d already gotten B-roll of the store and the chip fiasco. We were luckily there just in time for crumbs galore. The story on its own wouldn’t likely make the broadcast, but I had a feeling it would feed into a larger narrative if I was patient enough. I could play the long game. One of my strengths. I turned to the clerk. “Could we get just a few moments with you on camera? We want to hear your story.”