“So you put me to bed on the couch and covered me.”

“Yep.”

He moved toward her. “I was pretty baked last night. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come by.”

She wasn’t sure what to say.

“Mularkey,” he finally said, “I know I was out of it . . .”

“Yes, you were.”

“Did . . . anything happen? I mean, I’d hate to think—”

“Between us? How could it?” she said before he could finish saying how much he would regret a liaison between them. “Don’t worry. Nothing happened.”

The smile he gave her was so relieved she wanted to cry. “Then I guess I’ll see you at work today, huh? And thanks for taking care of me.”

“Sure.” She crossed her arms. “What are friends for?”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER
FOURTEEN

Late in 1985, Tully got her big break. Assigned to do a live broadcast from Beacon Hill, she was surprised by the flurry of nerves that made her fingers tremble and her voice break, but when it was over, she felt invincible.

She’d been good. Maybe even amazing.

Now she sat upright in the passenger seat of the live truck, a van specifically designed for the technical requirements of a live broadcast, bouncing slightly with enthusiasm. When she closed her eyes, she relived every second of it: the way she’d pushed into the front of the crowd and asked her questions, her flawless wrap-up at the end, shot in front of the well-lit bank, with the red and yellow police lights cutting through the darkening night. Afterward, it had taken forever to load up all the gear and get back on the road, but she didn’t care. The longer this night lasted, the better. She hadn’t even taken off her ear-piece, battery pack, wireless microphone, or walkie-talkie. They were badges of honor.

“Pull over at that 7-Eleven,” Johnny said from the back of the van. “I’m thirsty. Mutt, jump out and get a few establishing shots while we’re here. It’s your turn to make the drink dash, Tully.”

Mutt drove into the parking lot. “Cool.”

When they parked, Tully collected their money, then got out of the van and headed for the brightly lit mini-mart.

“None of that New Coke for me,” Johnny said into her earpiece.

She pulled the walkie-talkie off her belt, switched it on, and said, “You say that to me every time. I’m not an idiot.”

Inside the brightly lit store, she looked around for the cooler case, found it, and walked down the medicine aisle.

“Hey, look,” she said, talking into the walkie-talkie, “they have Geritol. You need some, Johnny?”

“Smartass,” he answered in her earpiece.

Laughing, she reached for the cooler case’s handle when she noticed a shadow move across the glass. Turning, she saw a man in a gray ski mask point a gun at the cashier.

“Oh, my God.”

“Are you talking about me?” Johnny said. “Because it’s about time—”