“What?”
Believe in me. “Nothing.” Julia looked away. The silvery river caught her gaze, reflecting like a strand of sunlight against the green lawn. In that instance of brightness, she recalled the flash of the camera lights and the barrage of ugly questions. When the press went in for the kill, there was nothing that could protect you; the truth least of all. She was damaged goods now; they wouldn’t listen to her opinion on anything. But they’d put her on the front page. “I guess I can’t be any more ruined,” she said at last, shivering slightly. She hoped her sister didn’t notice.
But Ellie saw everything; she always had. Becoming a police officer had only heightened a natural skill for observation. “I’ll be there with you all the time. Right beside you.”
“Thanks.” Maybe it would make a difference, not being so damned alone when the cameras rolled. “Schedule a press conference for tonight. Say … seven o’clock.”
“What will you tell them?”
“I’ll tell them what I can about Alice. I’ll show them the pictures and reveal a few interesting behavioral observations and let them ask their questions.”
“I’m sorry,” Ellie said.
Julia tried to smile. “I’ve lived through it before. I guess I can live through it again. For Alice.”
Julia could hear the racket going on in the police station. Dozens of reporters and photographers and videographers were out there, setting up their equipment, running sound and picture checks.
She and Ellie and Cal and Peanut were crammed into the employee lunchroom like hot dogs in a plastic pack.
“You’ll be fine,” Ellie said for at least the tenth time in the same number of minutes.
As he had each time, Cal agreed.
“I’m worried about Alice,” Julia said.
“Myra is sitting just outside her door. She’ll call if Alice makes a peep,” Ellie said. “You’ll be fine.”
Peanut said, “They’ll call her a quack.”
Ellie gasped. “Peanut.”
Peanut grinned at Julia. “I use that technique on my kids. Reverse psychology. Now anything they say will sound good.”
“No wonder your kids keep piercing their body parts,” Cal remarked.
Peanut flipped him off. “At least I don’t go to conventions in costume.”
“I haven’t worn a costume in twenty years.”
Earl appeared at the door. Everything about him looked spit-shined, from his faded red comb-over to his lacquer-coated dress shoes. The creases in his uniform were laser sharp. “They’re ready for you, Julia.” He flushed, stammered, “I mean Dr. Cates.”
One by one they peeled out of the lunchroom; the five of them collected again in the hallway.
“I’ll go first to introduce you,” Ellie said.
Julia nodded. For Alice, she thought.
Ellie walked down the hallway and turned the corner.
For Alice.
Then Earl was beside her, taking her arm.
She followed him down the hall, around the corner, and into the flash of her old life.
The crowd went wild, hurling questions like hand grenades.
“Qui-et!” Ellie yelled, holding her hands out. “Let Julia talk.”
Gradually the crowd stilled.
Julia felt their eyes on her. Everyone in the room was judging her right now, finding her lacking in both judgment and skill. She drew in a sharp breath and caught it. Her gaze scanned the room, looking for a friendly face.
In the back row, behind the reporters and photographers, were the locals. The Grimm sisters (and poor Fred, in ash form), Barbara Kurek, Lori Forman and her bright-faced children; several of her high school teachers.
And Max. He gave her a nod and a thumbs-up. It was surprising, but that show of support helped calm her nerves. In Los Angeles, she’d always felt totally alone in facing the press.
“As all of you know, I’m Dr. Julia Cates. I’ve been called to Rain Valley to treat a very special patient, whom we’re calling Alice. I know that many of you will wish to focus on my past, but I beg you to see what matters. This child is nameless and alone in the world. We need your help in finding her family.” She held up a photograph. “This is the girl we’re calling Alice. As you can see she has dark hair and blue-green eyes—”
“Dr. Cates, what would you say to the parents of those children who died in Silverwood?”
Once she’d been interrupted, all hell broke loose. The questions came at her like shrapnel.
“How do you live with the guilt—”
“Did you know Amber had purchased a gun—”
“Have you listened to the Death Knell lyrics—”
“—played the Doomsday Cavern video game?”
“Did you test her for an allergy to Prozac?”
Julia kept talking until her voice gave out. By the time it was over and the reporters had all run off to meet their deadlines, she felt utterly spent. Alone at the podium, she watched the people leave.
Finally, Ellie came up to her. “Jesus, Jules, that was bad,” she said looking almost as shaken as Julia felt. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know—”