It was the main reason he’d tended to keep his distance. But after their exchange at the park—her going out of her way to help him, the surprising comfort of their talk, the way she’d blushed when he smiled at her—he figured he just might have a shot, even if the museum picked up the tab this one time.
“Anyway, they’re hosting a reception for bigwigs and some press. There’ll be food and music, the works. And I was wondering if you’d like to go. With me.”
Lily’s eyes widened a fraction. “Oh. Oh, I see.”
The pause that followed could have lasted mere seconds but seemed interminable. Worrying he had misjudged the signs, Ellis tempered the invite.
“I know it’s last minute, so don’t fret if you need to pass. Just thought it was a way to say thanks, you know, for your help.”
“Well, that’s really not necessary.” Lily hugged her notepad to her chest. Again, her cheeks held a pinkish hue, though in fairness, the afternoon heat could have been the cause. “And it’s a pretty busy night for me, I’m afraid. But I do appreciate the thought.”
“Maybe another time, then?”
From the handful of girls he’d dated during and since high school, he knew her next response would be telling. Her tone, above all, would clarify where she stood. But before she could answer, Mr. Baylor swooped in from the side. The hue of his bare head rivaled that of Lily’s blouse.
“Reed, we gotta talk.”
And with that, Lily was gone.
Ellis worked to suppress his irritation. It took a moment to regroup and center on the issue Mr. Baylor was relating. Something had happened…with a picture…of the kids…the negative.
Ellis’s mind snapped to attention. “How’s that?”
Mr. Baylor huffed. He didn’t like to repeat himself. “I’m saying the damn thing’s ruined.”
“Ruined?”
“A new blockhead upstairs was cleaning an ink spill. Ended up knocking over some goddamn bleach. Your file’s one of the casualties. Still got a copy of the article, but the print and negative are goners. We’ll need a replacement.”
Ellis stared at him, the impact of the situation taking shape. A tightness wound around his middle, a lasso of dread. “But, I-I haven’t got one.”
“Doesn’t have to match exact. Just something close enough for the chief.”
When Ellis stumbled across those kids, work had been the farthest thing from his mind. He hadn’t even absorbed the words on the sign before clicking the shutter. Need extra images of a charity gala or any other event he’d covered over the past two years? He had mountains of them. But a photo of the two boys? He’d taken just that one. How could he have guessed it would find its way to Howard Trimble?
As if on cue, the chief hollered from his office, beckoning Mr. Baylor, who raised a hand in acknowledgment. Turning back to Ellis, he added, “I’ll need it by end of workday. Got that?” Then he headed off, not waiting for a response.
And thankfully so, because Ellis had no answers. In fact, he doubted he could scrounge up a voice.
A thick waft of smoke blew into his eyes, delivering a sting. Clayton was taking a break from his hunt-and-pecking to light a fresh cigarette. He picked a speck of tobacco from his bottom lip and lifted his square chin toward Ellis. “Don’t sweat it, pal. Not the end of the world.”
There was no sarcasm in his tone. But as he returned to his work, tucking his cigarette into place, his mouth gained its standard tilt. Or was it a smirk?
At this point, what did it matter?
Ellis marched back to his desk, battling an onset of panic. In the row of wall clocks, the second hands were relentlessly sprinting as if in a race. Local time was 11:08.
So much for his lunch plans.
He needed to knuckle down and stay calm. There was time to salvage this. He could plead with Mr. Baylor, ask him to run the article on its own.
Considering the chief’s temperament, that was decidedly a last resort.
Ellis scoured for other solutions, yet all the while he knew he was skirting the most obvious one.
Although it was far from ideal, what better choice did he have?
• • •
Once again, there was no indication of a presence inside. The house looked still as stone.
Ellis stepped out of his parked car and onto the pebbled dirt. The hour-long drive had allowed for ample doubts and second-guessing. He’d had to remind himself of the message in his article, the hope and determination it could spark for folks