“So?” Bess asked.
“There were only calls from these three.”
“Oh,” Nancy said. “You figured at that point that they were paying their premiums to a company that didn’t exist. And that’s when you wrote the articles.”
“Right. And they launched the grand jury investigation.”
“And you testified?”
“I gave them everything I had and was thanked for my cooperation. They dismissed me. Didn’t even press for the name of my source—not then, anyhow.”
“Why’d they change their minds about wanting to know your source?” Ned asked.
Ann looked bewildered. “I’m not sure. I had put the Mid-City thing behind me and was following up a lead on something else. Then someone left a message at the Record for me to go talk to a woman out at Crimson Oaks—that retirement village on Wilson Avenue. It was about Mid-City.”
“Who was she? Why were you supposed to see her?” Nancy asked.
“I never found out. I was just leaving to see her when this man came in and slapped the court order in my hand.”
“The grand jury dismissed you and then issued the court order?” Nancy asked with a puzzled frown.
“Yes. I haven’t gotten anything done since.”
“What did you tell the grand jury this last time?” Ned asked the reporter.
“Nothing. I don’t know who gave me that tip to check out Mid-City. Even if I did know, I wouldn’t tell them. They recessed to give me time to think about it.”
Bess’s eyes widened. “What are you going to do now?”
“Stand behind my First Amendment rights, which imply that a reporter does not have to reveal a source. If it means going to jail, I go to jail.”
Nancy stared at her hands. What Ann had told her was interesting—but interesting enough to frame her father? Someone obviously thought so. And I have to find out who, she mused.
It was late in the afternoon when Carson Drew finally appeared. His face was taut and grim. “Hi, everybody. Sorry it took so long.”
“What’s happened?” Nancy asked anxiously.
“I’ve been arraigned and made bail. Let’s get out of here. I’ve had my fill of this place for one day.”
“What comes next, Carson?” Ann asked as they left the building.
“A pretrial hearing to decide if the evidence is strong enough for me to be bound over for trial. They’ll let me know as soon as a date is set.” He drew in a deep breath of fresh air. “Let’s talk about it tomorrow. All I want to do now is go home. Ann will need a ride,” he said to Nancy.
“Just to the Record,” the reporter said. “If it’s not out of your way.”
Nancy dropped off Bess and Ned and headed for the newspaper. Her father was silent during the whole drive.
When they reached the Morning Record, Ann directed her to the parking lot behind the office, where a battered old Ford was parked against the rear wall. Nancy pulled up behind it.
Carson Drew unbuckled his seat belt and got out. “I’ll call you in the morning,” he said, helping Ann from the back seat. “We’ll see this thing through together.” He shook her hand, then stood watching as she walked toward her own car.
“Whatever I can do, I’ll do,” Ann answered earnestly. “Thanks, Nancy. Hope to see you again soon.”
The sky was dark by then; the parking lot dimly lit. There were only a half-dozen cars on the lot, and none parked near the reporter’s.
Moving with a long-legged stride to the old Ford, Ann dug into her purse for her key and stuck it into the lock. She seemed to have difficulty getting it to work, so Nancy flipped on her brights, hoping it would help.
The beam brought Ann’s car into sharp focus. Just under the grimy tailpipe of the Ford Nancy noticed a small square box, so shiny and bright that the Mustang’s headlights bounced off it. It was much too clean to have been attached to the car for long. What could it be? Nancy wondered.
“Got it,” Ann called as the key finally turned.
“Ann! No!” Nancy acted without thought for her own safety. She wrenched open her door and hit the asphalt running. Ann stared at her in amazement.