The camera kept running as Jenks used one hand to fumble out his cell phone for 911.
The camera caught two early-arriving rodeo workers coming at a run, attracted by the noise. Oh, yes, and a shot of Thurston vomiting—adding, I’m sure, to the forensic team’s pleasure.
—are visible. As well as blood and agricultural byproducts. And—
“Agricultural byproducts?”
“Maybe he wasn’t trampled. Maybe he was smothered in agricultural byproducts.”
“If bullshit killed, we’d all have died the day Haeburn arrived.”
Jenks had kept a copy of his footage, handing the original to the sheriff’s department. “Thought about what Diana did with the Redus murder case,” he said now. “If I’d known Fine would air it, I’d have skipped making a copy.”
An unnatural quiet settled over the newsroom as the humans inside the wise-mouthed journalists looked on the televised version of violent death. A swath of green resolved itself into the remnants of a shirt. The shot panned up, toward a recognizable shoulder, jerked sharply to the side before reaching an ear, veering away.
“Holy shit,” breathed someone behind me.
“Was that his . . . face?”
“Yeah. Fine wanted me to pan all the way, but . . .” Jenks swallowed. “There wasn’t much there.”
The camera’s focus shifted back to a distorted torso in green.
“Jesus.”
“Grim,” came a murmur.
The cut to commercial left a momentary silence in the newsroom.
“We shouldn’t have aired that.”
“Once it was shot, we had to air it.”
“That’s crap. Journalism requires judgment, and leaving out things is part of judgment.”
The newscast ended with a surfeit of platitudes from Fine about tragedy and an exhortation that the rodeo must go on.
The now-subdued newsroom quickly emptied, until it was only Mike, Diana, and me.
I spoke the thought that had been tugging at me for a while: “Why are we sitting around?”
“Because Haeburn’s an idiot.” Mike was definitely bitter. “We thought it would be better after the Redus case, but first chance he gets, Haeburn goes and puts Fine in charge.”
“My question is: Why are we paying attention to them?”
His sour expression lifted slowly, then his grin came in a flash. “All right. Let’s go.”
“The Newsmobile’s out front, equipment’s loaded,” Diana said.
“You are a gem.”
“I know.”
Now that it was almost July, and I was a veteran of my first month of Wyoming’s summer, I snagged a jacket from the back of my chair. Bright sun made it plenty warm now, but just wait.
“How do we approach this?” Mike asked eagerly.
I eyed him. “Gee, Jimmy, what do you think we should do?”
“Jimmy? What . . . oh, Jimmy Olsen, huh? Nice, Danniher. Just because I want to learn from one of the best in the business—”
“First time you call me Lois Lane or Clark Kent, this friendship is over.” He slanted me a look I didn’t meet. “We do what Fine won’t—report the hell out of the story. Accidents happen, but they still have who, what, when, where, how, and why. We find people who knew Landry, and we ask. What was his last day like? Why on earth would he have been in that bull pen?”
“Where do we start?”
“With inconsistencies.” I spun back to him. “What was that you said before? Something about the bulls, and not knowing why they were where they were. We start there. And let’s grab Jenks.”
FIND LEFT HANGING at Amazon
About the author
USA Today bestselling author Patricia McLinn spent more than 20 years as an editor at the Washington Post after stints as a sports writer (Rockford, Ill.) and assistant sports editor (Charlotte, N.C.). She received BA and MSJ degrees from Northwestern University.
McLinn is the author of nearly 40 published novels, which are cited by readers and reviewers for wit and vivid characterization. Her books include mysteries, contemporary western romances, contemporary romances elsewhere in the world, historical romances, and women’s fiction. They have topped bestseller lists and won numerous awards
She has spoken about writing from Melbourne, Australia to Washington, D.C., including being a guest-speaker at the Smithsonian Institute.
She is now living in Northern Kentucky and writing full-time. Patricia loves to hear from readers through her website, Facebook and Twitter.
Dear Readers: If you encounter typos or errors in this book, please send them to me at: Patricia@PatriciaMcLinn.com. Even with many layers of editing, mistakes can slip through, alas. But, together, we can eradicate the nasty nuisances.
Thank you! – Patricia McLinn
Table of Contents
Title Page
About the Book
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
From the Author
Dedication
Acknowledgements
Excerpt from LEFT HANGING
About the author