Thicker Than Water. Maggie Shayne

blinked as if she’d hit him between the eyes. “Ouch.”

      “Oh, crap, that’s not the way I meant—” Dawn looked from her mother to Sean and back again. “I didn’t mean you don’t do news. I mean you do, sort of, it’s just…different. It’s like comparing Howard Stern to Barbara Walters, you know? You run this irreverent, wild commentary on the most notorious events and people, with your opinions right out there. Exposé stuff, mixed in with music and guests. And she just reports the news, sensational or otherwise, from an unbiased point of view. It’s totally different.”

      “He entertains and I inform,” Jones clarified.

      “I enlighten. You enable,” he said.

      “I report and you sensationalize,” she countered.

      “You report what the powers that be want you to report. I pull the curtain away and expose the little man at the controls behind it.”

      They glared at each other.

      Dawn said, “This wasn’t a date, was it?”

      He slugged back his coffee. “Nope. It was just a nice guy giving a colleague a ride home.”

      “Colleague,” Jones muttered, shaking her head.

      Sean put his cup down and got to his feet. “It was nice meeting you, Dawn. Thanks for the coffee.”

      “Nice meeting you, too, Sean. Play some Stroke Nine for me tomorrow, will you?”

      “You got it.” He started for the door.

      Jones strode along beside him, and opened it when he reached it.

      “Nice kid,” he said. “Amazing, with a barracuda like you for a mom. Who was her father? Ghandi?”

      “Go to hell, MacKenzie.”

      He rolled his eyes, sighed, forced himself to turn back. “You really listen to my show every day?”

      “Yeah. So I know how not to report the news.”

      His temper heated.

      “You really watch my show every night?” she asked.

      “Yeah. It’s the best sleep aid I’ve ever tried.”

      She pursed her lips.

      He smiled at her. He didn’t think he had ever enjoyed fighting with anyone the way he enjoyed fighting with her. “This is great,” he told her. “It’s been too long since we had a good sparring match. Not since that tornado hit the state fair.”

      “I figured you finally realized you’d never win one and just gave up.”

      He held her eyes for a long moment and noticed that the shadow from earlier in the evening was still there, hiding behind her make-believe smile. Something was wrong with his favorite enemy, and knowing it made his own smile fade. “So are you gonna tell me what you were up to in that hotel room tonight, or do I have to go digging for it?”

      The color left her face in a rush. “I told you, I just had an off night. Will you let it go?”

      “No way in hell.” If looks could kill, he would be a dead man, he thought. He sighed. “So are you gonna call me if you get word they’ve released the stiff’s name for public consumption?”

      “Probably not.”

      “That’s good, ‘cause I’m not calling you when Jax beeps me.”

      “Fine.”

      “Good night, Jones.”

      “’Night, MacKenzie.”

      

      She closed the door on the pain in the ass, pseudophoto-journalist turned tabloid radio jockey. But the second she did, everything she’d been through tonight came rushing back. For a little while sparring with MacKenzie had taken her mind off it all. Now that he was gone, there was nothing to keep the horror at bay.

      She told herself she’d done nothing unethical. It wasn’t as if she had killed Harry. She had only taken precautions to see to it that no one else might think she had. So she’d wiped away a few fingerprints and sneaked out of the room. So what? And lied to the police, her mind added. And contaminated a crime scene.

      Hell. It occurred to her that she just might have inadvertently wiped away the fingerprints of the real killer.

      “Mom, come here!”

      She turned to see Dawn leaning over to peer out the window. “What, hon?”

      “Look at his car. God, it’s a Carerra!”

      Julie moved toward her, frowning. “He’s such a liar. He told me it was a Porsche.”

      “It is a Porsche! That is so cool!”

      Smiling, Julie locked the door and walked back to the living room. She heard MacKenzie’s muscle car roar away, and then Dawn rejoined her. “Did you actually ride home in that?” she asked.

      “Mmm-hmm.” She shrugged. “If I’d known how much it would impress you, I would’ve made him let me drive. Think he would’ve let me?”

      “Not if he’s ever seen you drive.”

      Julie grabbed a handful of popcorn and threw it at her daughter. Dawn caught a few kernels and tossed them back, laughing. “It’s true, Mom. You’re a terrible driver, and you know it.”

      “I get by.”

      “You don’t even buckle up.”

      “I do when I remember.” Julie leaned back on the sofa, and Dawn sank down beside her, close to her. Julie picked up the remote. “So can we ditch the Z-man here and watch a movie or what?”

      Dawn nodded, curled her legs beneath her and leaned against her mother. Julie slid an arm around her daughter’s shoulders, held her close and hit the buttons, killing the video and surfing the channels instead.

      “Are you okay, Mom?” Dawn asked suddenly, staring up into her mother’s face, searching it with her eyes.

      “Of course I’m okay. Why? Have I done something to make you think otherwise?”

      Dawn shrugged. “I got the feeling something’s been wrong…lately, you know? As if maybe someone were—I don’t know, bothering you, I guess.”

      Dawn’s perceptiveness never ceased to amaze. They were as tuned in to each other as any mother and daughter had ever been. “Well, there was a bit of a problem, and work’s been giving me headaches. Ratings are down. I’m probably going to end up with a new partner within a couple of weeks. But things are calmer now. And there’s nothing for you to worry about.”

      “I got the feeling it was something besides work and ratings.”

      Julie nodded. “Too sharp for me. It was, but it’s okay. It’s over.”

      “Did it have anything to do with him?”

      “Who? MacKenzie?”

      Dawn nodded. “Was he the one giving you a hard time?”

      “No. He’s got the moral values of an earthworm, but he would never do anything like that.” Or she hoped in hell he wouldn’t, Julie thought. Because if he started digging and he found out the truth—but no. He wouldn’t find anything.

      “That’s a relief.”

      “Why?”

      Dawn shrugged. “I like him, Mom.”

      “Blech. Honey, you have terrible taste in men.” Julie ate a handful of popcorn and looked at her beautiful, precious daughter. God, how would Dawn feel if that evidence of Harry’s ever went public? She lowered her eyes, pretended to watch TV. It didn’t matter what she had done today. She would do whatever she had to do to protect Dawn from anything that might threaten her happiness.