Page 42 of Prime Time

“Pardon the interruption,” he said tersely. “Gracie asked that I round everyone up for lunch. I’ll get the others.” Then he was gone, and Andy was bleakly staring at the empty doorway.

Les bounded around the foot of the bed and with his index finger jerked her chin up until he was looking her fully in the face. “So that’s the way the wind blows,” he said. “He’s got the hots for our little Andy, and she goes all marshmallowy every time he looks at her.”

“No!”

“Oh, yes, Andrea Malone. Don’t lie to me. I’ve got eyes, dammit, and I know jealousy when I see it. I was so sure that he was about to murder me, my life passed before my eyes.” He began pacing in what everyone referred to as Les’s “thinking” routine. “I should have known it was something like this. Those tapes I looked at this morning were good, but they’re Mickey Mouse.”

“There’s nothing wrong with those inte

rviews,” she said heatedly.

“There’s nothing terrific about them either,” he shouted back. “You could be interviewing Bozo the Clown for all the information we have on his military career. You’ve gone soft, Andy, lost your objectivity, and it’s because you want to shack up with Lyon.”

There was small compensation in the fact that he didn’t know she’d already been with Lyon. “I don’t know how you can possibly imagine that. We’ve been butting heads since I first got near him. He has nothing but contempt for me.”

“Then prove me wrong. Tomorrow morning, I want you to hit the old guy with all you’ve got. Hell, Andy, you could pry information out of a turnip and it wouldn’t even know it had been had. I’ve seen you do it hundreds of times.”

“The General’s sick, Les—”

“And he has something to hide. I feel it in my gut. What was all that stink over wearing a uniform? Huh? It’s not normal, and when something’s not normal, I practically break out in a rash.”

“I won’t badger him,” she said, shaking her head adamantly.

Les gripped her painfully by the shoulders. “Then I will, Andy. Getting General Michael Ratliff to reveal why he retired early and has lived in seclusion all these years could be our ticket to the network. You come across with the story of the year, or I will.”

From downstairs they heard the others trooping through the hall to the dining room. Les released her with his hands, but not with his eyes. She felt them on her as they went downstairs and took their seats at the table. Lyon was seated at one end, but the general apparently was going to eat in his room.

Gracie hustled to get the food on the table and the crew fell to with appreciation. Andy pushed a forkful into her mouth, though her body was repelled by the idea of eating.

“Your father took an early retirement, didn’t he, Lyon?” Les asked between bites of cold chicken salad.

Lyon finished chewing and swallowed. “Yes.”

“Any particular reason?”

Andy shot Les a threatening look, but he didn’t see it. He and Lyon were staring each other down like boxers assessing each other across the canvas.

“Ms. Malone asked him that,” Lyon answered levelly. “He said he wanted to try another way of life, that he was tired of the military. He wanted to live at a less hectic pace, spend more time with my mother.”

“But he was still young,” Les argued.

The others around the table had grown quiet, listening to the conversation that vibrated with so many unspoken meanings. The crew had seen Les rake numerous intimidating people over the coals, but thought that perhaps this time he had bitten off more than he could chew. By anyone’s estimation, Lyon Ratliff wasn’t a man one would provoke unnecessarily.

“Perhaps that’s why he got out when he did. He wanted to have plenty of time to ranch.” Lyon took another bite of his lunch, dismissing the importance of Les’s questions.

“Maybe,” Les said in a tone that reeked of skepticism. Andy saw Lyon’s hand tighten around his water glass. “On the other hand, it could have been for an entirely different reason. There could have been something he wasn’t too keen on the rest of the world finding out. Maybe about your mother, or the war—”

Lyon’s chair flew backward and fell to the floor with a crash. Silverware, crystal, and china clattered together on the table as his knee caught it from underneath. Andy heard Jeff’s softly whispered, “Jeez.” Gracie came running from the kitchen.

Lyon resembled a jealous god bent on vengeance. The heat of his fury surrounded him like an aura. His eyes flashed lightning. “I want you out of here by nightfall. Got it? Out.” His eyes swung to Andy. “All of you. Do the last interview this afternoon, as soon as my father has rested, and then clear out.” He stepped to the overturned chair and picked it up. “Sorry about the mess, Gracie.” Then he stormed out of the room.

Silence prevailed even after Gracie tactfully withdrew into the kitchen.

Jeff cleared his throat. For once his cockiness was subdued. “We were planning on charging all our batteries tonight, Andy. I don’t know if we’ll have enough power to shoot—”

“Do the best you can, Jeff,” she said vaguely.

“Okay. Sure.” He stood up, and the others followed his lead. “We’ll go on and set up where you showed us near river.” They left.

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