The Truth About Elyssa. Lorna Michaels
“I have an appointment with Derek.”
Lindsay called him on the intercom, relayed the message. “He says to come on back. Great to see you, Elyssa.”
“Thanks.” As Elyssa started down the hall, she glanced back and saw Lindsay punch in another number, saw her lips moving and the excited sparkle in her eyes. Spreading the news, Elyssa thought. Probably thinks I’m here to ask Derek for my old job back. Or maybe Lindsay thought she’d come to get Derek back. Nope, Lindsay, I’m not that dumb. Elyssa missed a lot of things about this place but Derek wasn’t on the list.
She reached his office, knocked and opened the door. Looking wary, he rose to greet her. She hadn’t told him why she was coming. Let him sweat a little longer. She shook his hand, then took her time settling in her chair and arranging her skirt.
“Well,” he said a little too heartily, “it’s been a while.”
“Mmm, yes,” she murmured, though she was tempted to ask if he couldn’t do better than that for an opener. But she didn’t want to antagonize him. Derek was easily provoked.
She studied him dispassionately as he sat behind his desk. He’d gained some weight since she’d last seen him, but he carried it well. Most of it had turned to muscle, she supposed; Derek was fanatic about his daily workout. His blond hair was precisely cut and combed. His jacket—the style just right, not too conservative, not too flashy—fitted perfectly across his broad shoulders. He wore a light-blue shirt with a crisp collar and a red-and-navy tie. Funny, those fashion touches she’d once found attractive now seemed fake. Derek, she decided, was a cubic zirconium trying to pass as a diamond.
“I hear Channel 9’s news at six is number one in its time period,” Elyssa said.
“I’ll take credit for that,” he said, preening a little.
“You deserve it, I’m sure.” Nothing like a compliment to soften Derek up. “Susan Dalrimple is a sharp gal.”
Derek, who had started to relax, stiffened. Probably afraid she’d remind him that the six o’clock anchor spot was once supposed to go to her instead of Susan. She wondered if he thought she was here to threaten him. With a lawsuit perhaps? For discrimination against the facially challenged?
She decided to end his misery. “I came for some information about Randy Barber.”
Relief showed in his eyes. “Ask and it’s yours.”
“You told Jenny that Randy covered a school board dispute over new buses before he died.”
“Right.” Comfortable now, Derek leaned back in his chair and smiled expansively. “It wasn’t a big story. In fact, it never developed into much of anything.”
“What about his next assignment?”
Derek shrugged. “I don’t remember. You know, a year and a half is like a century in the life of a news director.”
Did he think she didn’t know that? That she’d forgotten that news focused on today? “Jenny thinks he was working on something big.”
Derek chuckled. “Yes, she told me that herself. I didn’t want to disabuse Jenny of her illusions, but Randy was a novice. He wasn’t experienced enough for the, quote, big story.”
Didn’t want to “disabuse” her? Pretentious jerk. Derek knew damn well that Randy had been a good newsman, even for a rookie, but he obviously felt he could get away with saying that now. Who, after all, would Elyssa tell? Certainly not Jenny. “Whatever Randy was working on made him nervous. Jenny says he thought he was being followed.”
“Really, Elyssa, Jenny is being paranoid. Or Randy was. School buses are not the stuff of diabolic plots. Besides,” he added slyly, “if anyone would know, you would. You were with Randy when he died.”
Elyssa shut her eyes. “I still can’t remember anything after we got in the car. Maybe I never will.”
Derek leaned across his desk and patted her hand. “I’m sorry. I know how tough this is for you.” His voice softened. “Jenny was thoughtless to put you through this.”
Elyssa fixed the carefully manicured hand covering hers with a hard stare until Derek removed it. The fact that she’d once welcomed his hands on her body made her want to shudder. “Jenny didn’t put me through anything,” she said. “I came on my own.”
“Don’t tell me you’re becoming paranoid, too.”
With an effort Elyssa controlled the urge to walk around the desk and slap the condescending smile off Derek’s face. “I found some notes dated the day before Randy’s death. I thought you might know what they mean.” She took out the paper on which she’d copied Randy’s scribbles and handed it to Derek.
He glanced at it, then gave it back. “Looks like a kid’s secret code,” he said in an amused tone. “Where did you find it—buried in Randy’s backyard?”
Something told Elyssa he wasn’t as amused as he tried to appear. “Does it mean anything to you?”
Derek shook his head.
“Could it be related to a news story?”
“It could be related to something, but I don’t know what. What is all this, sweetheart? Have you taken up a new career? Elyssa Jarmon, girl detective?”
This time her temper did flare. “Don’t patronize me, Derek. And don’t—don’t ever—call me sweetheart.” She rose from her chair. “Thanks for your time.”
Elyssa took a deep breath as she walked into the hall. She shouldn’t have lost her temper, but damn! Derek was such a slime. She glanced over her shoulder. Through the half-open door she could see him staring after her, a troubled expression on his face.
Elyssa spent two fruitless hours in the library, hunting for the meaning of Randy’s note. She left with barely time to hurry home and get into costume for her Tuesday-afternoon clown class.
She clamped down on her anger and shut out thoughts of Derek as she worked with the children. She’d given each of her students a magic trick to learn and perform today for the others.
Trace was last. He looked good today, Elyssa thought, with a hint of color in his usually sallow cheeks. He hung back after the other children left the conference room. “Dr. Cameron says I might get to go home pretty soon.”
“Really! That’s great news.” She hunkered down beside his wheelchair. “I’ll miss you, though.”
“I thought maybe I could get my grandma to bring me by on Tuesdays if…if I could still be in the class.”
Elyssa swallowed. “Of course you can. In fact,” she added, smiling at the youngster, “I’d be disappointed if you didn’t come back. You’re good at magic.”
“You think so?” His eyes brightened. “Maybe I could do some shows if I go back to school. One year I played soccer, but…but it’s too late to try out for fall leagues.”
She tried to imagine Trace on a soccer field, with his stick-like legs that barely supported him for walking, and winced. “Magic would be a great hobby for you,” she said. “Next week I’ll bring some information about the Junior Magicians.”
“Cool.” His smile seemed to take up his whole face. He gave her a thumbs-up and guided his chair out the door.
Would he get well? Get another chance to play soccer, go to school with his friends? Would he grow up, have a girlfriend, an after-school job? Elyssa prayed he would. She knew she shouldn’t get emotionally involved with these kids, but Trace had touched her heart.
She made herself a note to look up the information on Junior Magicians, then packed her equipment and headed for Brett’s office. Her heart, dammit, fluttered in her chest.
Jean Torry, the receptionist, looked up when