She nibbled uncertainly on her lower lip. “No, a blocked number wouldn’t be believable.”
“Then we’d have to go over to the office. I have an extra line that wouldn’t give the name of my company on caller ID.”
She appeared more hopeful. “Would you mind?”
It wasn’t really his place to get involved. Also, it was snowing pretty hard. He could hear the wind railing against the house. But he had a four-wheel drive, they wouldn’t have far to go and the storm didn’t seem to be nearly as bad as forecasted, certainly no worse than several they’d had in recent years.
Besides, he could feel her uncertainty. Maybe Derrick Meade wasn’t cheating. Maybe they could relieve her anxiety so she could focus on writing those songs she’d mentioned. She seemed to be down on her luck, but not in the same way Noelle always was. Lourdes had seen a lot of success. She might be someone for whom a little help would make a big difference. “I wouldn’t mind, but—” he checked his watch “—it’s nearly nine in Nashville. Won’t it seem strange to get a business call that late?”
“Not from a harried reporter trying to hit a deadline.”
“Okay,” he said. “Come on.”
4
After Kyle waved her into the seat across from his desk and picked up the phone, Lourdes could only wring her hands. Was she about to find out if all the anxiety and concern she’d been feeling had a basis in reality?
“What’s his number?” he asked.
He could look it up on his cell, but there was no need when she knew it by heart.
She rattled off the digits as she shook snow off her coat. Then she held her breath as he dialed. On the drive over, she’d educated him so he’d sound like a believable country magazine reporter, but she had no idea how he’d handle himself once he had Derrick on the phone.
“Hello?”
Derrick must’ve answered! Lourdes felt her stomach twist into knots.
Clearing his throat, Kyle stood. “Mr. Meade? This is Graham...Gibb with Country Weekly.” He threw her a quizzical look that told her he’d gapped on the name she’d given him and had to improvise. Fortunately, he’d remembered the magazine correctly. That would’ve been a lot tougher to fake, since Derrick knew all the magazines that mattered in their industry. “I understand you manage Crystal Holtree...Yes, I’ve heard that song. It’s amazing. I apologize for calling so late, but I’m up against a deadline and was wondering if she might be available for a quick interview...Mmm-hmm...Right. What I’d originally planned for this issue fell apart, so I thought I’d change it up and write a piece on an emerging artist...Okay...Sure.”
He covered the phone. “He’s giving me her number,” he mouthed. “What should I do?”
“Hang up,” she whispered.
“Won’t he get suspicious?”
“He won’t guess it’s me. I’ve never done anything like this before.” She’d never felt she had to, not until Crystal entered their lives...
Flicking his wet hair out of his face, he removed his hand from the receiver. “Sorry for the interruption. My wife’s telling me that my editor’s been trying to reach me. She’s already backfilled the interview with someone else, so I apologize for the false alarm. I’ll keep Ms. Holtree in mind for future articles, though...Yes, I agree. She’s talented. I’ll see what I can do in the next few months.”
He hung up. Then he sank into his chair. “I’m not sure that was completely believable.”
Lourdes couldn’t be sure, either. She’d been straining the bounds of credulity when she’d had Kyle call so late. Crystal was generating sufficient interest that it wasn’t inconceivable, but it was Lourdes’s emotions that were driving her these days—not logic. That was why she’d had to pull away from Nashville. She needed to get her priorities straight, put recent setbacks in perspective. “You handled it well.”
“But we didn’t learn anything. Maybe she was there, and he’s just too smart to give himself away.”