Page 87 of Exposé

Kat nodded, her laptop already open. "Got it."

Whitney leaned back, her eyes searing into my flesh. "We also had a quiet weekend at the sheriff's office, thank God. But it's too quiet. I need someone to check on any updates from the courthouse—pending cases, anything that could spark interest."

I sat up straighter, my leather jacket squeaking against the metal armrest. "I—"

"I'll take it," Max said, stretching his arm over his head as if in preschool.

Whitney's eyes flicked from me to Max, our senior journalist.

Crap.

What if he sees the reports on the raids?

He'll snatch my story right out from under me.

"Thank you, Max, but I think Ava's going to take this one. I want you on the Kane Roger's story."

"Thank you." Max gave a curt nod with a slight smile, his glare puncturing my lungs.

My stomach tumbled, the blood rushing from my face. "I'm sorry, what about Kane Rogers?"

"His death."

I turned to Aria, her mouth ajar.

"How?"

Whitney flipped through her papers. "Still unknown." She slapped her hand over the papers. "Okay. Don't forget, folks—our October series on Riverfield’s haunted history kicks off tomorrow. Jamie, your piece on the ghost of the old mill is due by noon today."

"It's ready." Jamie held up a thumb drive. "You’ll love the part about the headless blacksmith."

The room chuckled, and Whitney allowed a small smile before her expression turned serious—the surrounding ambiance faded as my heart thudded in my ears.

He's dead.

So he wasn't just paranoid?

Someone really was after him.

"That's it." Whitney stood. "Ava, you're staying."

Jerking forward, I snapped out of my shaking thoughts. "Okay."

"Get to work." Whitney huffed through her nose as she looked over at the people crowding the room. "This paper doesn'trun itself." She cracked a rare grin as the team scattered to their desks. Aria gripped my arm with a tight-lipped smile of reassurance and joined the fleeing staff.

Whitney sipped her coffee and glanced over her notes. "Your deadline is up. What do you have?"

I shook my head. "Kane Rogers was my source."

She put her coffee mug down on the table with a bang. "When did you speak to him last?"

Shrugging, I pulled my gaze from hers, staring at the manufactured rip in my dark-wash jeans. "Last Thursday."

"How's that possible? He wasn't allowed any visitors."

"I'd rather not divulge that information."

Whitney gave a curt nod. She'd enforced the code of ethics in each one of us. "Okay.Umm." Her full lips twitched as she pulled them to the side. "Do you have anything else?"

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