Natalie reached into bra and pulled out two giant ripe cantaloupes.
“There wasn’t a smaller fruit available?” Natalie asked.
“Hey,” Walt answered as he loaded his equipment into the back of the news van. “You know what they say in this game. ‘Go big or go home.’”
Natalie sighed as she removed her fake blonde wig. “Somehow I doubt Walter Cronkite was forced to shove a kielbasa down his pants.”
“Eh,” Walt said. “It’s all up to you, kid. Call them a bunch of sexist pigs and sue them. Stuff melons down your shirt just to get some airtime. Either way, no one could blame you.”
Natalie was putting her bra stuffers in the back of the van when her phone beeped. An incoming text message. “ANOTHER ONE AT SITWELL COMMUNITY COLLEGE.”
“Oh my God,” Natalie said as she showed her phone to Walt. “This is massive.”
“Let’s roll,” Walt replied.
Walt hopped into the driver’s seat. Natalie got into the passenger’s side. The cameraman drove through downtown Boca Raton, on his way to the highway.
“Three murders in one night,” Natalie said as she played with her phone. “In different parts of the state. Have you ever seen anything like this?”
“Not at all,” Walt said. “Who do you suppose is giving you these tips?” Walt asked.
“No idea,” Natalie said. “I looked up the number. Couldn’t find a source.”
“Weird,” Walt said.
“Whoever it is, they’re making my career,” Natalie said.
Walt grumbled under his breath. “Ergh.”
“What?” Natalie asked.
“I hate to look a gift horse in the mouth,” Walt said. “But you should look this gift horse in the mouth. Check its teeth, its gums, everything.”
“You think I should just ignore tips on a story this big?” Natalie said.
“No,” Walt replied. “Not at all. Just know that nothing in life is free. There’s a cost to everything. Whoever is texting you might have something to gain from this. Hell, for all we know this person might be…”
Natalie’s heart raced. She took a deep breath and put her thumbs to work on her phone. “Are you the killer?” Natalie asked via text message.
The next few seconds were the longest seconds of Natalie’s life. Whoosh! An incoming text message. “NO COMMENT.”