Law enforcement and the media have a love/hate relationship that spans as far back as murder and rape. A simple story, ink on a page or figures in front of a camera, could make or break an investigation. It was as simple as that. A manhunt could be administered easier and more effectively if the media was heavily involved, posting the face and name of a victim or suspect all over televisions and newspapers. Or secrecy could be breached and facts could be distorted, creating hysteria based on falsehoods and partial truths. A thin line existed between the two departments, those who enforce and those who report.
Ashe had his own history with the media, one that was complicated. Four years back he had attempted to use the media as an investigation tool while in pursuit of a sexual sadist who mutilated his victims. Steven Reynolds. At that time, Ashe tended to view the media as a neutral force, only good or bad depending on those using it. And when he decided to use the media to goat Steven Reynolds into making a mistake, it had turned bad, horrible. His wife had become another victim. And Steven Reynolds disappeared. It had all gone wrong. He didn’t blame the media, however, only his own arrogance and ignorance.
Ashe had managed to find the address for the office of the Youngstown Daily newspaper. As he followed the green highlighted path on his Garmin, he realized exactly why he was so damned mad at Katherine. Part of it had to do with betrayal, but only part of it. Most of it had to with the fact that he had done it again. He had involved the media and put Scott in danger, even if it had been unintentional.
He had done it…again.
The only difference…he would fix his mistake before it harmed his son.
The only problem…he wasn’t sure how…yet.
The robotic male spoke up. “You are now approaching destination on right.”
Looking quickly to his right, Ashe immediately saw a large structure, one that has been standing for as long as he could remember. It had once been a Wal-Mart, he believed, but had shut down when they opened a newer, larger store down the road. The long brick building sat closed for a couple years before being remolded and divided to house many different business.
One of the offices, near the middle, appeared to contain the Youngstown Daily newspaper. Turning on his blinker, Ashe pulled into the large parking lot. Finding a spot near to the entrance, he scrambled from his Mazda. But before he took too many steps away from the car, he hit a button on his key ring and popped open the trunk. Grabbing a worn out black baseball cap, Ashe slammed down the trunk top and went back on his way.
The inside was just as plain as the outside, at least it appeared that way as Ashe entered. There was no front desk or receptionist to greet guest, because the little known online paper must not receive many visitors, he assumed. There didn’t seem to be any closed off offices either. The entire space was open. From what Ashe could see, there were only cubicles, rows of them with walkways that sliced back and forth in between.
With the black cap pulled down low, giving his face a slight shadow, he waded into the cubicles. The secret to infiltrating a work area, one where there was certain to be other people around, was to give the appearance of belonging. Confidence. Assurance. Ashe put the illusion on his face that he had a right to be in that building, as much a right as those who were looking at him.
Large laminated signs were posted on the outside of each cubicle providing both the name of the occupant and a picture of their grinning faces. The names were alphabetical and it didn’t seem to take long for Ashe to find Katherine’s work area. But the area was empty.
Ashe cussed.
She must be working at home. Where does she live?
He looked around the area and considered asking someone about Katherine, but instead lunged into the cubicle and began to frantically search her messy desk. Somewhere there had to be something where her address was written down. The desk was cluttered with papers and an old desktop computer. Quickly, he scanned the papers on and inside the metal desk, but the only address he seemed to find was the one to the office.
“Shit,” he cussed again.
According to Oscar, it had been said that Katherine was working on her first story for the paper, but the debris made it appear that she had been living in the cubicle for a while. He was temporarily confused but moved past it.
Going from the desk to the small metal trashcan next to the desk, Ashe grabbed a stack of paper from the top. He got lucky. Katherine must have grabbed some of her mail on the way to work and deposited the envelopes in the trash. Her address was clear as day.