Chapter One

“I need to talk to someone.”

Kim Victor looked up from her typewriter at the voice, irritated at the interruption. She could feel the delicate threads of her last, unwritten sentence separating.

It was one of the girls from the back of the newsroom. Kim wasn’t sure what she did, obituaries or something. She was one of those invisible worker bees who speak to others only when their job requires it, go directly home at the end of the day, and make no lasting impression on those around them. Kim struggled to remember her name.

“I’m Charlene Weaver,” the girl offered helpfully. “You don’t know me; nobody does. I’ve never asked for help from anyone, but I need help now. I know you’re very busy right now, but could you come to my place tonight to talk?” The speech sounded rehearsed.

Kim looked skyward, as though seeking help from heaven, then flashed her famous “just kidding” grin and asked, “Why me?”

“I know, it’s not fair to ask.” Charlene looked down and started to turn away.

“Wait a minute,” Kim stopped her. This was a girl who expected rejection. She would have to be handled like an egg.“Where do you live?” she asked, wondering if it was concern or curiosity that prompted the question.

It was a small apartment, Spartan as a monk’s cell. Charlene’s personality had made no impact on the place. Kim sat in one of two living room chairs. Charlene knelt on a cushion at her feet, explaining cryptically that she was more comfortable that way. Kim had coffee. Charlene had none.

“I’m avoiding caffeine,” she said.

Kim looked at the girl on the floor, discovering that she was pretty. Somehow she had managed to go unnoticed by all those predatory males down at the Herald, or maybe they had noticed and her shyness had turned them away. Office romance seldom went unobserved, but Kim had never heard Charlene’s name mentioned by any of the office gossips.

She remembered how much of a stir her own break-up with Larry had caused. The stares of pity from her friends had been bad enough. The opportunists circling to offer her “comfort” had been worse.

Charlene stared at her own clasped hands as she spoke. Kim thought that she looked as though she were praying or confessing.

“I’m a very shy and submissive person in all ways. I don’t have many friends, and none of them a