I was in my office scratching out my interview with Boss Madigan when my landline rang. It startled me because most of the time it just sits there taking up space. I snatched up the receiver and spit out my name. It was Carver Manx. He told me to listen close and I did.
“Get your butt over to my place. Call Sheriff Maynfield and tell him to meet me there as well and warn Madigan that something is coming his way that even he won’t survive. This city is headed for…well, never mind that.”
“I gotta deadline Manx. I gotta get today’s story out.” I was saying but the line went dead.
I used the landline to call the Sheriff while I kept hammering out my Boss Madigan interview story. Maynfield snarled a, “Whada ya want?” at me and I snapped back my answer and hung up. Maybe the cop’er likes Manx but he ain’t too friendly to me, for good reason I suppose since I hardly ever give him press and when I do it is usually a humourous side note.
Questions rattled through my head like, “Why didn’t Manx take Azi straight back to her uncle, or to the cops or at least to her coach and as the word ‘coach’ worked its way into the story something so sinister crowded in my old ticker skipped a beat.
“What if her coach?.. Don’t be stupid. This girl is headed for greatness. No one is going to force her to blow it.” But as the thought raced through my mind it made the most sense. I finished off my interview story in record time and headed out to Manx’s place.
Just as I was pushing my way out the door my editor called out to me. “I made an appointment with Azi Toll’s Trainer. You have an interview with her this afternoon.”
I logged the note in the back of my mind and kept going, deciding that interviews about the Olympian at that point wouldn’t make good copy but it could get people hurt. Someone was getting nervous and I was going to find out who.