9:23 a.m. CST
The potholes on the two-lane road leading to the interstate are making me wonder if my father’s old truck is up for this trip. If I’m up for this trip. Too bad if I’m not. I need to see what was left at that school, and it’s just a fifty-minute drive down and back.
I tap Dom’s cell number as I steer the truck onto I-49 south toward Natchitoches. No more avoiding this conversation. When Dom answers I know immediately someone has gotten to him first and the image of a young nurse who wanted to be a reporter comes to mind. Grace and her ten minutes of fame.
“I wondered when you were going to call me,” he says.
“Dom, it’s only been a day. I know I—”
“Don’t try to make my concern sound superfluous.”
“I’m not. It’s not. Believe me, I know better than anyone it’s not.”
“Then why the hell didn’t you tell me about your connection the second you called me about this source? You went on air without a disclosure. Do you have any idea how that makes NCN look?”
“Yes. I—”
“You what, Rita?”
“The live segment dropped before I even had a chance to. My IFB was not working, and I didn’t have time to say much.”
“Bullshit. And you said plenty.”
I smack my leg with my open palm and fight back the anger burning its way through my veins. Anger at myself.
I keep my eyes on the interstate and work to control my breathing. “I fucked up, Dom. I should have told you first thing. And I planned on telling you yesterday but ...” I release a long breath. “But the thing with my dad happened, and I raced home, and my conversation with you got shelved.”
“I’m sorry about your father,” he says. “But you’re not going to be able to hide behind that excuse.”
Ouch.
“Did Carl know?” he says.
“No,” I say quickly. “I told him after we were on the scene, and he freaked out and told me to call you immediately, and I told him I would. He had no idea.”
A door opens on his end and someone is talking.
“Be right there,” Dom says. Then to me he says, “I need to decide what I’m going to do. You being anywhere near this is a huge conflict of interest.”
“Dom,” I say. “I can be objective on this. I need it. I can get closer than anyone.”
I exit the interstate. He has no idea how close. Another secret.
“You lied to me, Rita.”
That dagger hits me square in the heart. “I didn’t lie.”
“A lie by omission is still a lie.” He pauses then says, “I’ve already sent Erin Stockwell to Miami. Laura Sanders is hers now.”
Fuck. Erin is NCN’s newest darling, five years younger than me and hungrier than I ever was. And that’s saying a lot, because I was starving when I started this gig. But she’s so hungry, she forgets the nuances of this business. Or maybe she never knew them. Either way, I don’t trust her with Laura Sanders.
“I can help her,” I say, turning left onto the two-lane road that leads into the Kisatchie National Forest.
“You’ve put me in a bad spot. You’ve put NCN in a bad spot. And you’ve put Carl in a bad spot. I’m going to need a little time to figure this out. You focus on your family right now. That’s it.”
He ends the call, and I keep driving in stunned silence. Dom has never spoken to me like that before. I’ve never given him a reason to. And something about our conversation is reminiscent of conversations I had with my father before he sent me to Poison Wood. The rebellious side of me pushing boundaries. And once again, that side of me has cost me something dear.
I should turn this truck around and head back north. Do exactly what Dom said, focus on my father. But the magnet of Poison Wood has switched on, and I’m too close to fight its pull now. Besides, I’m already in hot water. I might as well bathe in it.
