Free Liars, Cheaters & Thieves by L. J. Sellers Page B

all over it.” She couldn’t help but be jacked about the assignment, and it made her feel guilty about her reaction to a tragic death. “How did you get the information so quickly?”
    “A bartender I know gave me a call. The guy was killed in his vehicle in the parking lot of Pete’s Pad last night.”
    “I’m intrigued. Thanks for letting me have this one.” The assignment could have gone to several senior reporters instead.
    “You’ll dig harder. This is your kind of piece.”
    “What’s the guy’s name?”
    “Rafel Mazari.”
    Sophie jotted it down and spelled it back to make sure she had it right. “I’ll get going on it right away and work through the weekend. Let’s beat the TV people with this story.”
    “Get Brian if you need a photographer.” Hoogstad gestured at her cube neighbor. “Where are you going to start?”
    “I’ll call my detective contact and see what I can find out.”
    “Good girl.”
    Fucker . He would have to ruin an otherwise pleasant exchange.
    “I heard that,” the photographer said, popping up over their shared cubicle wall as the editor walked away. “It was so loud inside my brain, I worried you’d directed it at me.”
    “Be glad your mind is that open. I’m sure the sentiment bounced off Hoogstad. You heard the assignment?”
    “I’m stoked. Will they let us get a photo of his corpse?”
    “I doubt it.” She shook her head. “I’m going to keep this tasteful.”
    He laughed. “There’s always a first.”
    “Bite me.”
    Sophie turned her focus back to the domestic-shooting story, impatient to wrap it up and move on. The name Rafel Mazari was familiar to her. Where had she heard it? She wrote a few more sentences, and the information popped into her head. A woman she’d dated years ago had gone to school with Rafel and knew his first wife, who’d died in a freak car accident. That was the only reason Sophie remembered the name. Her girlfriend had talked about the accident for days, and another reporter on the paper had covered it. Sophie hit Save and closed the piece she was writing. It could wait.
    She called Kim Bradley, the woman who’d known Rafel and his wife, and left her a message to call back. Sophie considered contacting Jasmine Parker, her current lover, who worked for the police department’s crime lab, but she resisted. Jasmine’s information was confidential, and her girlfriend resented when Sophie tried to pry out details. But every once in a while, Jaz volunteered a juicy nugget of information. Sophie decided to be patient, find out what she could, and not ask Jasmine unless she got desperate.
    Instead, she called Detective Jackson, a senior investigator in the Violent Crimes Unit who always got the best cases—the bizarre crime stories she liked to cover. Over the last year, they’d developed a half-assed working relationship. Sophie understood and accepted that he hated giving her information, but she almost always had something solid to offer in exchange. Jackson had come to accept that Sophie was a pretty damn good investigator too, and people often told her things they wouldn’t tell a police officer. So now, he often returned her calls, and sometimes gave her exclusive on-the-record comments.
    Jackson didn’t answer—no surprise—so she left a message: “Hey, it’s Sophie. I’ve been assigned to write a profile about Rafel Mazari’s life, and I’d love to know more about his murder. Anything you’re willing to share would be helpful, and of course, if I find anything interesting, I’ll pass it along. Be in touch.” He might not call her until he needed something, like a news-archive search, but she’d keep trying. Their jobs were similar, but their goals were different. He wanted to keep the scoop all to himself, and she wanted to share it with the world.
    She ran Rafel Mazari’s name through the newspaper’s digital archive. Two stories came up. One was about his unit returning from Afghanistan, and the other