Nickel City Storm Warning (Gideon Rimes Book 3) by Gary Ross (i can read books TXT) 📕

they were that she could never have another. Sure, I know they loved me but they were Korean and doctors. It wasn’t like them to speak of their feelings, ever. I wanted to make them happy—especially her—so happy they would never want another kid. I tried hard to please them every way I could but I was always afraid I wouldn’t be enough for them. So I drank tea with them anytime they wanted. To my surprise, I came to love the tea ceremony, which was reserved for special occasions. We had hand-painted tea bowls on a small table we knelt around. While the tea steeped, my mother poured hot water into the bowls so they would be warm enough to receive the tea without ruining the taste. When the steeping was done, the water was poured out and the tea was poured in, a little at a time into each bowl, back and forth, until the pot was empty and each bowl had the same amount. Then my mother would take her bowl, always with two hands, and take the first sip to test the quality. If the drink was good enough, she invited us to join her. The whole experience had a calming effect. It was something we did as a family. They seemed happy we could find peace together and I was happy to see them smile. As I grew older, I came to understand how good her teas were, and I came to love them as much as the ceremony itself. I could show you how to make tea the Korean way. Or I could make some the American way. It’s almost as good. Bamboo leaf? Pagoda flower? Smoked plum? Oh, let’s not forget magnolia berry. Tasty stuff and no caffeine to keep you awake. Any of those appeal to you?”

Eyes already closed, Drea shook her head and rested it against my shoulder again. I realized the cadence and tone of Pete’s non-sequitur about a tea ceremony matched the rhythm of a typical bedtime story, the near hypnosis parents had used to coax children into sleep for the whole of human history. He was calming her in a way I hadn’t expected.

My own eyelids seemed heavier, damn him.

“Maybe tea tomorrow,” Drea said. “Right now I think I want to try going back to sleep. Give me a couple of minutes.”

“Take all the time you need,” I said.

“You’ll stay till I’m asleep?”

“Until you’re so asleep you won’t feel me stand up.”

“Thank you.”

“Guess I’ll head on back to my room now,” Pete said, shooting me a wink. “Tea tomorrow. Better dreams tonight.”

After he switched off the light and closed the door on his way out, Drea let out a long breath. “He’s such a nice man.”

“He is,” I said in the darkness.

“Hope he wasn’t insulted about the tea.” She sounded groggy now.

“He wasn’t. He just wanted you to feel better.”

After a minute or so of silence, her breathing began to slide into a regular rhythm. Presently, she twisted away and slid down, putting her head on the pillow and throwing an arm across my lap. Her breath was warm against my hip as she settled in.

“Such a nice man.” Almost a whisper.

“Yes.”

“Different from those other men.”

“I won’t let them hurt you,” I whispered. “Whatever it takes, I’ll keep you safe.”

Seconds later she was out, and I eased my head against the padded headboard. An hour passed before she pulled away enough to startle me awake and give me sufficient room to slip off the bed without waking her.

22

WNCZ-TV was located in the Eastern Hills Mall, outside the city and on the edge of the town of Clarence. A casualty of online shopping, the once-thriving mall had been declining for years, with most anchor chains gone, too many vacant stores, a three-screen cinema, and a DMV branch office. A plan for mixed-use development was in progress, enhanced by the presence of the corporate headquarters of Cathcart Communications.

In a small footprint business model replicated in dozens of states, Cathcart directed its services at consumers unable to afford Sirius radio, Netflix, or more than basic cable. In most markets, it offered a handful of over-the-air radio stations and one to three television stations for over-the-air or basic cable. In the Buffalo area, it had six radio stations—one each for classic rock, rhythm and blues, jazz, country-western, gospel, and public affairs—and three round-the-clock digital TV stations—for reruns of classic television series and game shows, classic movies with limited commercial interruptions, and comprehensive news. Though it would hardly call itself a network, its stations offered identical programming with insertions of local commercials and news updates. Only the public affairs radio and TV news channels were unique to their markets.

The main entrance was on the back side of the L-shaped building. Pete parked the Ford Transit in one of the spaces designated Z-TV Guests. He and I climbed out first and scanned our surroundings. Seeing nothing suspicious, I slid open the side door for Manuel Ramos and Lucy Bishop to step out. Ramos was in a tan blazer and pressed jeans, the yellow Taser on his right hip and the earbud power pack on his left visible when he twisted one way or the other. Bishop wore a long knit sweater-jacket that kept her .38 hidden. They were followed by Drea, in a blue dress over her body armor. Surrounding her, we hurried into the building.

We were greeted by Bill Cathcart, tall, balding, and wearing a rumpled seersucker suit that belied his wealth. He led us to Christina Donohue, whose shoulder-length auburn hair and matching lipstick and scarf stood out against her saffron dress. After small talk over coffee and mini-donuts, Donohue showed Drea and me into a sea-green studio with bright lights overhead, a stage with cushioned beige armchairs perpendicular to each other, three remote-control TV cameras, and a clean-shaven young man named Ronnie with a clip-on microphone in one hand. Once Drea was miked, I followed Ronnie out of the studio