B. J. Winters

What looks like a routine follow-up on a newspaper story leads two investigative journalists to a plot of kidnapping, murder and revenge.  It's just a typical summer in Chicago!

This story turned out to be a combination of the Godfather, the Divinci Code and His Girl Friday.  Overall a fun two year virtual collaboration with my Canadian friend C. 

Bible Quote:

1) Leviticus 25 10 - chapter 2

2) 2 Chronicles 7:13-14 - chapter 4

3) Mathew 5:17 - chapter 6

4) Mathew 2:14 - chapter 6

5) Romans 12:19-21 - chapter 10

6) Judges 3:25 - chapter 17

Name: Scott Crawford

Gender: Male
Age: 32
Zodiac Sign: Cancer
Nationality: American
Current Residence: Chicago, IL
Height: 6' 1"
Weight: 175
Body type: Athletic
Hair: Blond
Eyes: Blue

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Personality: A curious cat

Quote: "I've hardly had time to sit, let alone stir."

Biography/Family: Navy brat.  Lived in 13 countries.  Three sisters.  Parents both still living.

Education: University of New York

Attire: Dress casual (dockers/polo shirts)

Strengths/Likes: Very smart - tends to get involved in things he shouldn't

Weaknesses/Dislikes: Doesn't sleep much

Bad habits: Doesn't share much about himself which leads people to draw their own conclusions.

Speech: Slight New York accent

Theme song: In the End - Linkin Park

Name:   Contessa Gianni Haven Morgano

Alias:   Tessa Morgan

Gender: Female
Age:   28
Zodiac Sign:  Capricorn
Nationality:    Italian-American
Current Residence:   Chicago, Ill
Height:  5’ 3”
Weight:  111

Body type:  
Hair: Red
Eyes: Ice Blue

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Personality:   Italian - enough said

Quote:   What you see is what you get but not everything you see is real.

Biography/Family:   Both parents deceased.  Twin to brother Dante.

Education:   University of Florida   
Attire:   the range is broad; looks great in anything from a burlap sack to an haute couture evening gown.

Strengths/Likes:  High IQ, accomplished pianist, loves pillows and has no less than seven on her bed.

Weaknesses:  Something about pillows (see above)

Bad habits:  struggling with quitting drinking

Speech:  English, Italian and Chinese

Theme song:   Let it Rain – Amanda Marshall http://ca.youtube.com/watch?v=WB8m-y7exww  

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Other names of note:

Darla Perelli, Kate Moreno, and Gail Torrance  - disappeared or killed

Pascal DeMarco, Cy Esposito, Dante Morgano - disappeared of killed

Father Luke Cuzzeto - priest

Detective Eric Blaine - police officer in Chicago

Marcy Finch - police officer in New York

Marlayna Reed - editor of the New York post

I like to use real locations.  This takes place in Chicago, and New York City.

CHICAGO

The Navy Pier 

The Smith Museum of Stained Glass (at the Navy Pier)

St. Joseph's Basilica

Chicago Tribune Building

NEW YORK

The Westin - New York

Click, click, click….

Each press of the enter key advanced a page in the news archives. Facts flashed on the computer monitor like Christmas lights, and Scott Crawford sat at his desk watching the display. The reporter’s instinct was running hot, but so far his fingers and brain weren’t finding anything inspiring.

He was bored.

No fires, police corruption, or kidnappings came over the wire. Even gossip on the internet didn’t spark his interest. That left Scott with the archives. He needed an idea, a story to throw on the editor’s desk before 5 p.m. so that he could go home, grill a steak and sleep. Hunger kept him clicking.

Fingers paused – a missing person from a month ago – the daughter of a wealthy Chicago restaurateur. Scott leaned forward, his nose moving closer to the monitor. He refused to put on his glasses, preferring the vanity of squinting. One long finger lifted and traced the text below the picture of a woman in her twenties as he tried to absorb the sketchy facts.

Sniff.

There it was again, that annoying fragrance of perfume, some combination of lavender and citrus. It could have been her shampoo or something else; most days he tried not to get close enough to tell. Leaning to his left, Scott looked across the cubical dividers in the bullpen office to see Tessa Morgan at her own computer station, one leg tucked under her small frame, the other pulled tight to her chest.

Casually, he stood and walked over. His long legs ate up the distance in six steps. Tessa’s office was not homey; no plants, no cute little personal items, nothing that made you want to enter, let alone stay. The senior writer didn’t glance in Scott’s direction as he entered, finding the focal point of her office, the computer, of more interest.

Their competition was becoming gossip in the newspaper office, but he didn’t really care. It wasn’t that he considered her a rival; she was just fun to play with. In the past week he had beaten her to two bylines. “Hey,” Scott said, flashing his best smile. His voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper, “What are you working on?”

“The usual,” she said evasively.

The cool tone caused Scott to raise an eyebrow. “You’re not still mad, are you?” he asked.

With more force than necessary, she scribbled a note on the pad of paper beside her. The pencil tip snapped; Scott took that as confirmation. He put both hands in the air in mock surrender, cringing when her ice blue eyes lifted to his. “Look, it was nothing personal.”

“You’ve been here five weeks,” she snapped, her tone implying he lacked the knowledge and experience for the Tribune. “I’ve been here five years.”

Resentful, Scott’s eyes narrowed, “I earned my stripes at the Post.” He barely stopped himself from adding more, forcefully clamping his own jaw closed to hold the thoughts unspoken.

“New York,” she scoffed, as though it couldn’t hold a candle to Chicago. “You should have stayed there.”

Tessa lifted a hand like she was swatting at a bug. “What do you want, Crawford?”

He wasn’t deterred by the attitude, “Darla Perelli,” he stated. By the way Tessa’s hand stilled he surmised she recognized the name. If he didn’t know better he’d think she was holding her breath. “You wrote an article awhile ago – did she ever turn up?”

“Like a piece of lost luggage?”

Scott didn’t think he’d been insensitive, but he felt slightly embarrassed by her question. She seemed offended, restless with more than just redheaded temper.

Tessa set down the pencil she was holding, and it rolled across her desk. Scott picked it up and twirled it, trying to appear casual. “I, uh,” he fumbled, “I found the article and was thinking about doing a follow-up.”

“Why?”

He might have told her if he thought the question was asked with genuine interest. Something about her tone kept him silent; he wasn’t about to admit that he was fresh out of ideas before deadline.

Tessa stood. She barely reached the height of Scott’s shoulder, but was an intimidating package all the same. “Must you?” she said, grabbing the pencil from his toying hands, before tossing it back to her desk.

Maybe it was the apprehensive look on his own face that caused her to sigh. Suddenly, Tessa backed off and her voice softened, “This has been a hard week.”

“What was so hard about it?” he asked, curious now at the tense atmosphere. Investigative journalism was more than just a career choice for Scott.

He picked the pencil up from where she had tossed it on the desk and started toying with it again. This would apparently answer the ‘must you’ question better than any verbal comment.

Moving around her chair, Tessa took the few steps to the far side of her office. From the bag that had been carelessly thrown at the base of the coat stand, she reached in and produced a half emptied mickey. She brought the silver flask to her full lips and took a sip.

Seeing the startled look on Scott’s face made Tessa laugh. “It’s chocolate milk,” she said with a sheepish grin, “I couldn’t find my thermos this morning.”

Tessa’s private life was a bit of a mystery, even those who claimed to know her well revealed few conclusive facts. With a blink he said, “If your week’s been that bad, maybe you should be drinking something stronger than dairy products.”

Her eyes shifted to the side to peer at Scott but she didn’t turn her head. Her lips parted. Drawing in a short breath she stated firmly, “I don’t drink!”, and as if to accentuate the point, with her hand still a good foot from the desk top, Tessa brought the bottle down hard.

It was embarrassing; he jumped - the force of the bottle slam vibrating across the desk surface and echoing in the small space. Scott’s hands stopped fiddling with the pencil and went still.

He wasn’t used to making people mad. Sure, sometimes he’d clown until he got a rise out of someone or he’d kid in good fun, but this was different. Somehow he’d struck a nerve. Clearing his throat he looked about. The office area was open, the cubicles short, and Scott could see a few co-workers were taking an interest in the exchange.

“So,” she said, her voice almost a growl, “what has your research shown – anything interesting?” There was a small pause, “Something you need help with?”

The smile on his face was less bright, but still masked what he was truly thinking. For a second he almost said ‘Maybe’ just to see what kind of reaction he would get. His fingers raked through his short sandy blond hair as he counted to ten and considered his options.

Tossing the pencil down on the desk, he let some of his natural competitive bend return. He shrugged, “Nope,” looking at the watch on his wrist. “I should be going.”

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