Free The Chosen by Sharon Sala Page A

Wojak doing a live, on-the-spot piece from Bart Scofield’s place of business. She stopped what she was doing to listen.
    â€œâ€¦talked to him last. At the time, he stated he was in a cab and only minutes away from work. But Bart Scofield never reached his destination. It’s been six hours now, and no word. Authorities fear the worst. At this point, no ransom demand has been made, but—”
    January reached for a pen and paper, and wrote down Scofield’s name. A man gone missing. There was nothing to indicate this had anything to do with the story she was following, although more and more street people were claiming that some of them were missing and had been for weeks. She would have bet a month’s salary that no one had reported those people missing. Very few of the street people would willingly go to the law for anything.
    Another man gone missing could be just a coincidence, but she wasn’t going to blow it off until she checked it out. She needed to go back to the streets—see if she could find some help in putting names to the others. There might be a connection, there might not, but her reporter’s instincts said there was. She just needed to find it.
    She was still fiddling with her pen, drawing doodles on the paper around Scofield’s name, when the phone rang at her desk. She answered absently, her mind still on the abduction.
    â€œDeLena.”
    â€œHey, it’s me, Ben.”
    Her heart skipped a beat.
    â€œI swear, Officer, I didn’t do it,” January said.
    He laughed in spite of himself. The real January DeLena was nothing like he’d imagined.
    â€œActually, that’s not true,” Ben said. “You are guilty.”
    January lowered her voice and slid into a fake Hollywood version of a gangster’s moll.
    â€œOkay, copper, you got me. So what is it I’m supposed to have done?”
    He was still smiling. “I tried to remember if I’d thanked you the other night, and so, on the off chance that I hadn’t, I’m thanking you now.”
    â€œThank me? For what?”
    â€œI know I’m not your favorite person, but I’m real fond of living, so I’m thanking you for saving me when I was choking.”
    â€œOh…well, sure, although I think you already did. Thank me, I mean. Anyone would have done the same. I’m just happy it all turned out all right. I would have hated it to progress to artificial respiration without a little participation from you.”
    Ben laughed out loud. She’d caught him off guard again.
    â€œYeah, well, if it’s another kiss you want, I always pay my debts. Consider yourself warned.”
    January’s toes curled inside her shoes. She wished she had some measure of control when it came to Ben North, but she didn’t. It was her opinion that facing one’s weaknesses ultimately made one a better person. If this was true, then she was a good candidate for sainthood.
    â€œI’ll hold you to that,” she said, and then quickly changed the subject before she got in over her head and made a complete fool of herself. “Say…I don’t suppose you’ve made any inroads into solving the murder of Jean Baptiste?”
    Ben frowned. “You know I’m not going to talk about that.”
    She sighed. “It never hurts to try.”
    He grinned, then was glad she couldn’t see him. Knowing January, she would view that as knuckling under.
    â€œAt any rate, I owe you one,” he said softly.
    The rumble of his voice sent a shiver up her spine. “And I won’t let you forget it, either.”
    â€œI never thought for a minute that you would.”
    â€œOkay…um, it was good to talk to you,” January said.
    Ben started to say more, then saw his partner approaching and shut the conversation down quick before Rick found out who he was talking to.
    â€œYou, too,” he stated, then added, “Be careful out