Making News

By Jade C. Jamison

Nicki Sosebee is getting closer to something. She just doesn’t know what.

Nicki’s sleepy hometown of Winchester, Colorado, is the kind of place that deals with two or three murders a year, not two or three a month, but a serial killer is making news by brutally murdering young adults in the most gruesome of ways. Nicki and her investigative blogger friend set out to solve the mystery, only to discover the corruption in their town reaches far and wide. When Nicki gets closer to discovering the answer to all the dead bodies in her beloved town, she meets an unexpected resistance from all corners, leaving her unsure how to proceed.

PLEASE NOTE: This book was previously published in 2017 as DEAD BODIES EVERYWHERE.

Trigger warning: This book contains subject matter that may be disturbing for some readers. Due to language and content, this book is recommended for readers 18 and older.

The Nicki Sosebee Stories are an interconnected series and should be read in order for maximum spoiler-free enjoyment.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jade C. Jamison
• Release date: Dec 4, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005418410

Jade C. Jamison

1. Imagine 2. Play some music 3. Write 4. Blow readers away 5. RepeatJade C. Jamison is a steamy romance author, heavy metal fangirl, wife and mom, coffee connoisseur, cat lover, and vegan foodie--not necessarily in that order. She loves life and believes we learn our wisest lessons when reading, especially if it's fiction. Her heroines are fierce, her heroes all but broken, both seeking redemption together. Whether in a small Colorado town or big city, she strives to take her readers' breath away...one story at a time.Find out more at www.jadecjamison.com ORhttp://www.subscribepage.com/JadeCJamison (newsletter)

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

The whole night was beginning to feel surreal. Nicki Sosebee had never really followed an election before, let alone cared about the results, until the one this year. It was a Tuesday night and, in spite of the fact that the offices of the Winchester Tribune were smaller nowadays, a good chunk of the staff had gathered there that evening to follow the election and see what voters had decided.

Even Nicki had voted that year.

Neal Black, the Tribune’s editor, had bought pizza and plenty of soda, and most of the reporters had chosen to gather together. Even though nowadays the paper was being printed in Colorado Springs and hauled up the mountain for early morning deliveries and —most of the time—there were earlier deadlines, several reporters had volunteered to write for a special election edition. Not only were several local offices up for election, but there other offices up for grabs like the governor and U.S. Senate and House positions. There were also a few ballot issues voters had to weigh in on, like labeling GMO foods and defining persons and children. Nicki tried to act interested in most of them, but the truth of the matter was that she was mostly worried about just one particular voting item: Did Gina McCafferty, one of puppet master Cecil Montgomery’s toadies, win the city council seat?

The polls had closed at seven PM but the Tribune staff was waiting around to hear the results from both the local and state elections. A lot of stupid people in her town had been enamored of McCafferty, making Nicki fear for the future of Winchester. The woman was clearly a puppet and a dumb one at that; Nicki wondered why she herself was the only one who’d seemed to notice it.

All business on this particular evening, Nicki had her hair pulled up into a ponytail and, having been bored for a couple of hours, had already written her article. There were only so many shiny charts and graphs she could take, especially since she was less interested in the state ballot. Locally, there were two main candidates, and one of them was sure to win, even though there were also one Libertarian candidate and two running as Independents. Nicki wasn’t too naïve to know that, even in a town like Winchester, most votes were polarized in favor of Republicans or Democrats, and most people felt that if they voted with other parties, they might as well not have voted. Whatever the case, McCafferty and her opposition had been running neck and neck, and there was no way the other also rans had a chance. So, at Neal’s suggestion, Nicki had written a loose article for each scenario and was just waiting for the results to come in. She’d tweak the details once the winning candidate was announced, and she also planned to call the winner for a quote—she knew she might have to talk to a PR person (whom she’d quote in the article as a spokesperson), but she’d take whatever she could get. The quote would be the last part she’d plug in.

Neal walked past her in the break area where they’d all assembled. The TV was on, with local news stations showing state polls, and the entire staff was absorbed. While Neal seemed a bit preoccupied, it wasn’t much different from his usual demeanor. He was running his hand through his brown hair as he passed, and Nicki asked, Did you want to glance at these articles or—?

Nope. I trust you. I’ll read the completed version. Half the work, kiddo. Winking at her, he said, I have dozens of those I’ll have to skim before arranging them so they can go to print, and he made his way out of the room before she asked a follow-up question. Just like the staff, Neal was doing extra work as well. While he often read or skimmed through all the articles in the paper (and sometimes changed details), he wasn’t the guy who usually formatted the paper—but working on this edition was purely voluntary, and the two people who usually did that job had opted out.

Damn it. She’d been hoping to have Neal’s brilliant advice guide her before she added the finishing touches, but maybe that was a sign that she’d grown as a writer. He was treating her like the rest of the gang. Allowing herself a moment of pride, she then got up and stretched, standing in the cluster of fellow reporters huddled around the TV. Cliff Hogan, an elderly guy who mostly reported local news, was standing close to the television, his arms crossed over his chest. Glancing over at Nicki, he said, Conservative, liberal? Doesn’t really seem to matter. They all have an agenda, but I don’t think we little guys even register on their radar anymore.

Nicki blinked twice. That sounded almost like something Sean would say. Sean, her best friend and ex, a gorgeous guy who owned a motorcycle repair shop, was often at the top of her mind—and their relationship, if Nicki labelled it anything, was complicated, to say the least. In spite of all that had happened over the past few months, though, Nicki held out hope that maybe they would work out.

They had to.

But, in the meantime, Nicki was marveling at how an older guy like Cliff, someone she’d always pegged as conservative, sounded closer to an anarchist. Maybe not, but definitely a dissatisfied citizen who wanted change. Seems that way sometimes. Honestly, Nicki just didn’t give a shit about politics, even when she knew she should. And she sure as hell didn’t trust any of the people holding an office. Although Sean had planted that idea in her head, it had only grown, thanks to her dealings with politicians in her fair city.

Close to ten o’clock, Neal joined the crew again, holding a yellow legal pad in his hand. Who wants to know the results? Nicki would have thought she was at a baseball game and the home team had just gotten a home run with bases loaded. Everyone was eager to hear how the local elections turned out, and Nicki knew Neal would be glad to have them finishing up their articles, sharing them with him so he could do whatever it was he had to do, and they could lock up for the night. She knew Neal didn’t update the website any more than he ran the actual presses (and there would be no online version of this particular edition anyway), but she was pretty sure he was the main person manning their Facebook page and Twitter account in addition to his other duties.

She still couldn’t figure out why the Tribune needed a Twitter account anyway, but one of her coworkers, a gal in sales, had said people often tweeted news story ideas to them. Totally worth it, she’d told Nicki.

Well, as long as she didn’t have to deal with it…

Shaking her head, Nicki smiled at Neal, raising her hand. Like everyone else, she was excited to hear. As he went down the list, he pointed to the reporter whose story the election result hinged on, barking out a name or result before moving to the next reporter. Finally, it was Nicki’s turn and she was sure she saw a gleam in Neal’s eye, because he knew exactly how she’d felt about one of the candidates. And, with one word, he confirmed her worst fear.

McCafferty.

Nodding her head, she took a deep breath before heading to the tiny table equipped with a phone and her laptop that she’d brought along. It was time to make a call. Although she could have used her cellphone, the paper’s landline also revealed caller ID, just in case McCafferty and her crew were screening calls. Picking up the receiver, Nicki didn’t hesitate, because she’d been fearing this moment all night. But, no matter her emotions, it was done, and there was nothing she could do about it. Thousands of voters in Winchester had decided that Gina McCafferty was the best candidate for the open city council seat. And now she was going to have to prove it.

First, though, she was bound to be celebrating, and Nicki was going to interrupt all that. The phone rang twice before a male voice answered. Team McCafferty. What can I do for you?

"Hi. This is Nicki Sosebee with the Winchester Tribune, and I realize Ms. McCafferty is probably celebrating her win, but I wondered if there was anything you folks wanted to say? I’m writing an article for tomorrow’s edition and would love to add anything you’d like to share."

Actually, Ms. Sosebee, I think Gina would be thrilled to speak with you. Just a moment.

Nicki almost laughed. Did this guy know who she was, the history between her and his candidate? As she waited—listening to the din on the other end of the line while Team McCafferty partied for her victory—Nicki thought maybe Gina knew, in spite of her own personal opinion, that Nicki would report fairly. An editorial was one thing, but an article was quite another. Nicki could almost hear Neal’s voice in her head: Just the facts, rookie.

Yeah. Just the facts.

Gina’s voice finally came on the line. Hi, Nicki. You got the news that I won, I take it?

I did. Congratulations. I just wondered if there was anything you wanted to say for the article I’m writing for tomorrow’s edition?

There was no mistaking the enthusiasm in McCafferty’s voice. Nicki knew one thing—if attitude alone could make a good councilwoman, maybe Gina could make it. "I sure do. I’d like to say that tonight the American people made the right choice. They’re putting the right person in office. McCafferty Can Do! Gina threw in her campaign slogan, and Nicki typed while the woman spoke, stifling a giggle. Most American people" had no clue who McCafferty was. Hell, Nicki would guess that not even all of Winchester had paid enough attention to know. But those who did? Well, Nicki didn’t need to make Gina McCafferty look stupid. The woman did just fine on her own.

Can I print that?

You bet you can.

Thanks, Gina. Congrats again. Nicki was going to quote it. All of it. And it might take a few years, but maybe printing the woman’s words verbatim would be the death of her political career.

But those few years would likely seem like forever…

Nicki was still living with Brandy, Kevin, and their annoying puppy Bunny but, like a wart, the little furry shit had grown on Nicki. She was even letting the dog curl up with her on her bed on occasion. As her friends worked on finishing touches to the nursery, getting it ready for the baby—and as Brandy’s belly began to swell so that now it was hard to ignore—Nicki knew she had to find a way to move out. Even though the couple hadn’t put any pressure on Nicki and probably never would, she felt like they would want and need their time alone with their newborn baby girl when she arrived. Nicki would be such a…fourth wheel? Well, no, that was completely inaccurate, but she knew that she personally would feel like an intruder—and her friends might feel that way as well, even though they’d never say it.

Fortunately, Nicki hadn’t felt the urge to slip into her old ways. Five years ago—hell, five months ago (had she not been with Sean)—she would have been wondering how to sneak a guy into her bedroom without disturbing her friends.

Ever since Hunter’s rough treatment of her, though, she’d had little to no desire to be intimate. In the back of her mind, she knew she should probably talk to someone about it, but she didn’t even like to acknowledge it to herself. That she let herself be duped so easily, let herself fall for a guy like that, a guy who wound up being misogynistic, controlling, and domineering—abusive—made her question her ability to read people and even her sense of self-preservation.

Needless to say, the past couple of months hadn’t been kind to her psyche.

But she was focusing on work—on writing for the Tribune, where for her it was business as usual, even though they were housed in a new building, and on her new job working as a clerk at the relocated and upgraded local pharmacy, Harriman’s Drugs. They had, up until midsummer, been located on Main Street, in the original building where it had opened sometime in the fifties, but with several corporate pharmacies snatching up business in Winchester, the tiny drug store had to find a way to compete, and—with a larger building, longer hours, and two new pharmacists on their payroll—they found they needed to hire more staff. Nicki just happened to be in the right place at the right time after saying goodbye to her beloved Napoli.

It was strange at first. Nicki had never gone to the old Harriman’s much—once, when she’d had some nasty ear infection left behind from a rather insidious cold, her doctor had prescribed an antibiotic for her, and his office was just one block away from the pharmacy. She’d driven there, simply wanting to drop back into bed, and had been surprised at how quickly they’d filled her prescription, unlike the pharmacy at the supermarket that took forever and treated all their customers like warmed-over shit. She’d been surprised at how fast their service was and how friendly their entire staff had been. She rarely got sick, though—at least not sick enough to require meds—and so she just had no reason to go there much. She’d also had to investigate a story the year before and Harriman’s—as well as other Main Street businesses—had been targets, but she rarely had need to do business there.

When she could observe up close what they were doing to compete with the corporate chains, though, it seemed to be a good move thus far.

Their store on Main Street had been mostly pharmacy. They’d had a couple of aisles of vitamins and over-the-counter remedies, along with things people might need while they were there—things like greeting cards, candy bars, mascara, paper plates, and toilet paper. Now, though, they’d expanded everything—from one aisle of over-the-counter medicines to two; one aisle dedicated solely to nonperishable food, drinks, and paper products; and the cosmetics were expanded to two full aisles as well. Plus, in their upgrade, they’d increased their employee base as well. They hired several more pharmacy techs and cashiers, and they even changed the hours they were open. Before, they’d been open from eight AM to six PM Monday through Friday and ten to two on Saturday, but now they were open seven days a week till eight PM every night—which meant the new part-time employees would get plenty of hours.

But it also meant Nicki wouldn’t be working till midnight anymore.

While Nicki didn’t mind putting in hours at the drug store, it was nothing like working at Napoli. It was a lot more like working for the paper—most of the staff were older and had families, which meant they had worries and interests that were quite different from hers, so even though she got along with them all, she didn’t feel like she would ever become close friends with any of them.

Again, that was okay. After feeling fucked over by her supposed friends at Napoli, it was just as well. She just had to get her head on straight.

What also made it rough was something no one else there would ever complain about. While they had times that were busier than others, there were no full-on rushes—no super busy times where employees were pressed to their limits. Nicki hadn’t realized she’d enjoyed those adrenaline-fueled moment the most at her old job.

One night, Joe, the night manager, someone who’d been with Harriman’s for a while but had recently earned his promotion, paused to watch Nicki straightening the products in one of the aisles she was responsible for. Doing all right?

See? They were very nice people—Nicki just didn’t feel like she belonged, and she wondered if her face and body language showed it. "Yeah, I’m fine.