Shot Girl by Karen E. Olson

though? I mean, I know you haven’t seen him in a long time, but it must have been tough."
    "How do you know I saw him?" I asked, keeping my voice measured.
    Ned frowned. "Priscilla said you were at the bar last night. Didn’t you write the story?"
    Dick’s byline was on the story. I shook my head. "No, I didn’t," I said, watching his face but seeing no emotion at all.
    "Oh, I just assumed . . ." His voice trailed off as he took a drink of his iced tea.
    "Did you know he was in town?" I asked.
    He nodded. "He’s been back for a while, looking for work. I had him speak to one of my classes this spring."
    The incredulity spread through me like a goddamn wildfire. "You let him do that?"
    Ned snorted. "Jesus, Annie, he was a helluva reporter once upon a time. He knew his stuff—he was going places."
    "And then he fucked it up."
    Ned leaned across the table, his eyes boring into mine. "He fucked you up."
    He was trying to provoke me.
    "No, I have a career. He ended up on a goddamn sidewalk on ladies’ night."
    He sat back again. "You can’t ignore the fact that you never got married again, that your job is your life. You never left New Haven after that."
    How much had Priscilla told him? I was going to have to talk to her.
    "Did you know Ralph was seeing one of the journalism students here? Felicia Kowalski," I said, not wanting to let him get to me.
    Ned nodded. "They met that day he talked to my class. She’s one of my students." He paused. "She’s an intern at the Herald this summer."
    "Yeah, I know. And she didn’t show up this morning for a chamber meeting she was supposed to cover. Do you know how to reach her?"
    Ned shrugged. "She’s a kid. Who the hell knows? Maybe she’s too torn up about Ralph. They got pretty close pretty fast." His tone made me wonder if he wasn’t pissed about that. A coed that he couldn’t bed but Ralph could.
    I wasn’t getting what I needed here, and there were too many ghosts. Being with Ned was like being with Ralph, in a way, and I’d had enough of that. Before I could bid adieu and get on my merry way, however, Ned had one more thing to say.
    "I’m surprised you haven’t asked about the grand jury investigation."

Chapter 11
    Grand jury investigation?
    The question must have been written all over my face, because Ned started nodding. "I think Ralph told Priscilla. She didn’t tell you?"
    I hated not knowing things, and I hated it that he was teasing me, leading me on. "Jesus, Ned, what the hell are you talking about?"
    "Ralph got into something serious. I don’t know the details. He was pretty vague, and Priscilla said he didn’t tell her much, either. Something about a grand jury investigation, possible indictment. He was trying to cut a deal. That’s all I know."
    I snorted. "My God. Did you know about this when you had him speak to your class? Did you tell your students what he did?"
    Ned shook his head sadly. "Get over it, Annie. What happened is ancient history. It killed him to have to give up his dream."
    "He made it all up, Ned. He made up those stories. He wasn’t a reporter; he was a goddamn sham. If he’d just played it out, done his job the way he was supposed to, he would’ve gotten to the New York Times on his talent, like he should’ve. He just couldn’t wait around; he couldn’t be patient." The anger rose like a bubble in my chest. I was barely whispering and my voice was shaking.
    "He didn’t betray you, Annie. He betrayed himself."
    I stood up, pushing my chair back. "He betrayed all of us," I said as I rushed outside, headlong into the wall of heat that couldn’t keep the tears from streaming down my cheeks.
    As I sat in my Civic, I wondered how much of this was exhaustion and how much of it was just shit I hadn’t dealt with and now it was coming out. I didn’t even try to start the car, which was like a sweatbox, but I barely noticed.
    Ralph was dead. It was over. But what about this grand jury? And why hadn’t Priscilla told me about it?