Page 27 of The Business Trip

“Chief, did you find the bodies?”

The chief half turned his head and scowled.

“I told you, no questions. This press conference is adjourned.”

Lucy slowly shut her laptop and looked at me. We didn’t say anything; we didn’t have to. Even though there was no name of the victim given, somehow we knew. We both knew. I put my head into my hands. Even if Steph had started out working with this Trent guy to stage a kidnapping, it seemed that it had gone horribly wrong.

CHAPTER 24Bruce

One Week After the Flight

None of us could work after the Atlanta police chief held his press conference. Hell, we could barely function. I still had to be in charge, though, and I told everyone to go down to bare-bones mode. Only the most critical stories in Madison would get coverage that day. We could fill the shows with national news—there was always plenty of that available on the feeds. Yet the biggest story at the moment nationally was a news director in Atlanta who was arrested for a possible double murder.

Now Lucy was out for the day. Bernie, the receptionist, had gabbed to a few people that she thought Lucy was in Atlanta. We all moved around in robot mode, whispering to one another. By now, the whole newsroom was clued in that something was amiss with Steph, and they knew about this big national story. They were certain to put two and two together, if they hadn’t already. We were journalists; we were not ones to let something just go past us without a ton of questions. And the business was small enough that gossip whipped around quickly.

At six p.m. Eastern time, police in Atlanta called another press conference. It was five our time, the start of our fiveo’clock news, so the anchors had to be on set and the director and producer in the booth, but the rest of us gathered around Nora’s computer to see what the latest was coming out of Atlanta. I’m sure the director and producer—probably the anchors too—were sneaking peeks at their phones for updates when they could.

“Good evening, I’m Chief Newman again, Atlanta PD,” said the man in glasses and a chief’s hat, his badge glistening in the TV lights. “I’m here to provide an update on the unfortunate tragedy that occurred in the residence behind me. Trent McCarthy remains in custody. We can now confirm two names of potential victims. Only one of them is confirmed with DNA at this time, though.”

He cleared his throat and looked down at a paper in front of him.

“That one is a Jasmine V. Littleton. The second potential victim is a Stephanie H. Monroe. Personal items from both were found buried in the backyard. We know that Mr. McCarthy and at least one of the victims attended a conference together in La Jolla, California, last week. This remains a very active investigation and we ask anyone with information to come forward. There will be no questions, and I mean it this time:No. Questions.”

He turned on his heel and walked away.

I felt a darkness creeping up behind my eyes. Nora screamed and someone else groaned. This couldn’t possibly be real life, could it?

CHAPTER 25Anna

One Week After the Flight

In my mailbox was a padded envelope addressed to me with no return address. The postmark said Atlanta. To my shock, $500 in cash was inside. I knew then it was from Jasmine. She had come through! How she got that much money, I had no idea, but she was true to her word and had paid me back. I tucked the money into a drawer until I could get to the bank and texted her a thank-you. She did not respond.

It was my day off, and I was just settling in on the couch, scrolling through TikTok, when my cell phone rang. It was Ed, the bar manager.

Hesitating with my finger over the answer button, I decided not to pick up. I really didn’t want to be called to fill in for someone tonight. I was beat from a long week, especially the stress over Glenn and stepping up at work to take on extra duties for Jasmine.

A few minutes later Ed called again. Ignoring it a second time, I turned my ringer off and flipped the phone upside down. I needed space. I deserved it. I was exhausted.

With my phone out of the mix, I popped on Netflix andsettled in to binge-watch. When the first episode of my new series was done, I got up to make some popcorn for the rest of the marathon, and while it popped, I returned to the couch and finally flipped my phone back right side up.

There were twelve texts and ten calls, all from people at the bar. My body tensed up. What was going on?

Quickly, I opened Ed’s text first.

Have you been watching the news? Something happened to Jasmine. In Atlanta of all places. Call me. Where the hell are you?

The news? What did he mean? Frantically, I scanned the other texts I had from coworkers, which essentially said a variation of the same thing. Glancing at the clock, I saw that it was in between the six and ten o’clock newscasts. The news? I called Ed.

“Jesus Christ, Anna. Where have you been? This is bad, really fucking bad. Sit down. Are you sitting down?”

“No.”

“Well, sit the hell down.”

“What are you talking about, Ed? Just tell me what happened to Jasmine.”

“Anna…” He took a deep breath. “Police in Atlanta just held a press conference. I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this, but Jasmine… is dead. Killed by some guy down there that she met.”

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