Free Dead Air by Robin Caroll

he’d just hire someone else as a full-time receptionist.
    He didn’t bother to reply, just strode down the hall to the station manager’s office. The door wasn’t closed, not really. There was a crack. He tapped on the door. It swung open.
    Gabby sat in the chair in front of Eric’s desk. Both bolted to their feet, but neither looked uncomfortable at his interruption. His heart thudded a little faster.
    “Would you like to go to your office?” Gabby asked.
    “No. This is fine.” He took the other seat in front of Eric’s desk, and Gabby sat back in her chair.
    Eric sat, as well. “I spoke with Kevin. He’s covering Howard’s time slot for the time being.”
    “Thank you.” Clark noticed the bead of sweat on the station manager’s upper lip. “We’ll need to consider hiring someone on a permanent basis for the position.”
    “We usually run an ad in the Natchez paper.” Eric glanced at Gabby, then tiptoed his gaze back to Clark. “Unless there’s someone you already have in mind.”
    Ah, so that’s why the station manager was so nervous—worried he’d be firing people to replace them with his own crew. Maybe this was what had prompted Eric’s little talk with him before.
    Clark smiled and leaned forward, resting his hands on the desk. “I have no one else in mind.” He cleared his throat. “Let me go ahead and get this straight—I have no intention of clearing house to bring in my people.”
    Eric smiled. “That’s a relief.”
    “I mean it. I don’t want to disrupt a good team.” He curled his palms into fists. “Now, we will have to hire someone to take over the morning slot. I’d prefer to hire locally if at all possible.”
    “I’ll get an ad together and get it in the paper.” Eric nodded.
    Clark cut his eyes to Gabby, who sat stiff, staring at the undecorated wall. What was going through that quick mind of hers? “Gabby, your thoughts?”
    She jerked her attention to him. “Me? Why ask me? I’m just a deejay.”
    “The best one this station has, according to the numbers. I’m asking your opinion.”
    Her cheeks tinged pink. “Then I agree with what Eric suggests. Ads. Interviews. Whatever.” She flicked her wrist and waggled her fingers.
    “But we’re a team, and I want to make sure everyone gets along. Can’t have feuding.” As soon as the words left his mouth, Clark wished he could pull them back. Feuding…that’s what put Robert Ellison in the sheriff’s crosshairs for murdering Howard.
    Gabby’s eyes bugged and moistened, pushing Clark’s regret even further.
    He swallowed against a dry mouth. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply—”
    She shook her head. “No reason to apologize. I get what you’re saying. I do.” She blinked furiously. “It’s just hard.”
    “I know.” His own voice thickened.
    “How about I run the ad and do preliminary interviewing, then when there are only a few good candidates, I bring them in to interview with you, Mr. McKay, and you can introduce them to any of the staff? Would that work?” Eric held a pen over a pad of paper.
    “Yes. Thank you.”
    Gabby smiled at the station manager. “Eric, you rock.”
    Clark’s breathing hitched.
    What would it take for Gabby to think he rocked?

EIGHT
    T he gossips had beaten them to supper—their gums already flapped about Robert’s situation.
    Gabby led Clark through the packed crowd at Ms. Minnie’s, weaving her way to the table where the rest of the girls sat. The peppery-spicy aroma of crawfish bisque permeated the diner, making Gabby’s stomach growl. She dropped into the chair beside Rayne and pulled Clark beside her.
    His nearness did strange things to her, but she fought against the attraction. His willingness to help clear Robert made her feel things she had no business feeling.
    Sheldon tapped her flawlessly manicured nails against the table. “Okay, bring us up to speed. All the talk in the library this afternoon was about the article. I’ve heard all the rumors