Page 106 of All the Missing Pieces

That bit of warmth I’d started to feel toward my boss quickly died. “Gee, thanks. It’s great to know you care.”

Baker stared back at me and then sighed. “You know I care, Ridley. I wouldn’t be in this godforsaken dot on a map if I didn’t. But I don’t want to see you tank your career or worse. You’re not being careful.”

“I am being careful,” I argued. “I’m staying with the freaking sheriff. I’m not going out after dark. I’m watching my back.”

And I’d continue taking those precautions, because ending up dead wasn’t something I especially wanted to happen. But I also wasn’t going to back down. Not when I had the chance to bring Avery peace and possibly bring my family healing, not to mention all the other victims and their families.

Baker opened his mouth to say something else, but we were interrupted by a waitress in her forties. She held her tray with an expertise that spoke of years on the job. “Here you go, honeys. One Grey Goose and soda, one Ransom, and a basket of fries. Here’s some ketchup too. You need anything else?”

“We’re fine,” Baker gritted.

I smiled up at the woman. “Thank you so much.”

She sent me a wink. “Just flag me down if you need refills or anything else.”

“Small towns,” Baker groused.

“Aren’t they the best?” I asked, popping a fry into my mouth.

He wrinkled his nose. “No thank you.”

I just shrugged and ate another fry.

“We need to discuss your Instagram. I’ve talked to my security team. They’d like you to move into a more secure location than whatever measly excuse for a house that sheriff lives in. Two-man security detail and?—”

“No,” I cut him off. “I already told you, I’m not doing that.”

“Ridley, don’t be an idiot.”

“I’m not. But I’m also not going to follow your orders just because you barked them at me. Anyone could be responsible for those comments. Hell, you could’ve posted them just because you wanted more eyes on the show.”

Redness crept up Baker’s neck. “Did you just accuse me of harassment?”

I watched every flicker of reaction, trying to figure out if it was him. “I didn’t accuse you. I simply pointed out that just about anyone on this planet could be responsible. Even you.”

That redness grew and expanded, deepening in tone. “I am not a child throwing a tantrum. And I don’t need to use the tactics of one to get what I want. I have the most-listened-to lineup of programs. The top rated. The most awarded.”

And none of those were things he gave his creators credit for; it was always Baker’s doing. How I’d stayed with him for as long as I had, I’d never know.

“I won’t stand for you throwing these ridiculous accusations my way,” Baker snapped.

I took a sip of my whiskey, letting that familiar smoky heat sweep through me and waited for Baker’s temper to ease, not taking my eyes off him for a second. The reaction thus far was typical Baker—rage at me thinking him anything less than perfect. Any other time I’d caught him up to no good, he got squirrelly, almost petulant. And that wasn’t his demeanor now.

“You aren’t going to say anything to that?” he demanded.

I gentled my tone, trying for another approach. “I told you, I was simply making a point that the culprit could be anyone. So we all need to be careful. It could be someone out for you and your shows just as easily as it could be someone out to get me.”

Baker stiffened as he processed the thought. He instantly pulled out his phone, fingers flying across the screen. As the device dipped down, I could see he had Instagram open. He was checking each of the podcasts under his umbrella. Unless he’d become an amazing actor over the past few weeks, it wasn’t him.

When he was done, he took a sip of his drink and looked up. “Every other podcast is fine. Which just goes to show thatyouneed a security detail and help.”

I tensed at the wordhelp, knowing what it could mean.

“I have the guys fromReality Rampagearriving on Monday. We’ll be doing a crossover event. People will love it, and you won’t have to do a single interview alone.”

Anger built, sparks catching fire somewhere low. I’d listened to exactly one episode of Baker’s new show. The guys who hosted it had zero respect for what victims or their families had endured. They made crass jokes and took nothing seriously. But worst of all, they didn’t give a damn about lives being lost or forever changed.

“No.” My voice was low, barely audible above the noise of the bar, but it carried a finality no one could ignore.

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