Free Without Warning by David Rosenfelt

them, and one of the main ways he could be certain of doing so would be for Katie to keep getting information from Jake. And while he respected her strength and ability, that relationship was so complicated that he had strong doubts she could hold her own.
    Fortunately, he had a back-up plan in place.
    Matt labored over the computer much longer than he ordinarily would, and far more than necessary. He was an excellent writer, more than capable of telling this story effectively. In fact, the story was so powerful it could just about tell itself.
    But he wasn’t writing about a boring town council meeting, or a fender bender, or any of the other banal junk that ordinarily filled the pages of the Wilton Journal . This was a subject more important than any he would ever write about again, and he was going to obsess over every word, and every comma.
    But finally it was put to bed, and Matt spent some time reflecting on what his next steps should be, beyond writing a daily story. He didn’t just consider himself a reporter; he was an investigative reporter. And the investigative playing field couldn’t be more favorable to him; he had inside knowledge of the story and more local contacts than anyone else. Katie’s arrangement with Jake would likely prove invaluable, but Matt was also going to make things happen.
    He would investigate the murders that had already taken place, and he was sure he would turn up fresh information. And when he broke the case, well, a Pulitzer was not out of the realm of possibility.
    But for the moment, Matt was going to get something to eat and maybe have a drink or two. He could have done this in the comfort of his own living room, but then he would not have been the center of attention. And that center was exactly where Matt liked to be.
    So Matt went to the Dugout, a local restaurant-bar with a sports theme, which was crowded most nights, but packed when the Red Sox were playing on television. They had played that afternoon, so while the place was busy, it wasn’t mobbed.
    Matt’s entrance, despite the fact that he was a semiregular, created a stir. Everyone wanted to talk to him, to find out what he knew, and to give him their own opinions about what was going on, and who the guilty party might be.
    He pretended not to like the attention, but sat there for two and a half hours, having dinner and then a succession of beers. The best part, he soon realized, was not that he had created a journalistic stir. No, the best part was that it seemed like every woman in the place was suddenly interested in him.
    Matt had always had reasonable success with women; he wasn’t a playboy, but he had his moments, even if he had to work at it. This night was different, however. This time some of them made their interest in him very obvious, and he felt as if he could pick and choose.
    So he chose a young woman named Rachel Castro. She was new to Wilton, even newer than Matt, and had worked for the last two years as a cashier at the town department store. Ironically, Matt had tried to start up a conversation with her about six months before and had gotten nowhere.
    Times had changed.
    It was around eleven o’clock that he asked Rachel if she wanted to go back to his house to have another drink, an offer she seemed to find very appealing. They left his car in the parking lot, as he recognized he was in no condition to drive, and his house was just a ten-minute walk from the bar.
    She held on to him the entire way, and he couldn’t help reflecting on how different he was already being viewed not only by people like Rachel but also by the entire town. And this was just after one story. By the time he was finished …
    They reached Matt’s front door, which he had locked when he left that morning. Even though very few people bothered to lock their doors in the small town, he had promised Katie that he would. So he took out his key, opened the door, and graciously motioned for Rachel to enter. “After you…,”