Allison bit her lip. "Aren't you hearing from other people, people who are glad that you came forward?"
With a shrug, Cassidy said, "Yeah. I mean, there are victims out there who say they're grateful that I spoke out. But in some ways I just feel like I made myself a target." She pressed her manicured fingers against her lips and was silent for a few seconds. "I've been thinking lately that I've been looking at things wrong. It's not like everyone out in viewer land loves me. It's not even like they know me. Not really. I mean, look at Jim. He didn't have any close friends, not really. His friends were like imaginary friends--all those people who tuned in to him every day. But that's not really a friendship. Not like what we have." She looked around the table, a smile trembling on her lips.
"So how are you dealing with all this?" Trying to forestall an automatic answer, Allison put her hand on Cassidy's wrist. "It seems like you've been right in the middle of every bad thing that's happened lately, from being friends with Jim Fate to being with Glover when he killed himself."
Cassidy blinked, and a tear ran from each eye.
"To be honest, I'm terrible. I've been having trouble sleeping for months. It started with Rick and then what happened at Katie Converse's house. Work has been awful. And everything has just snowballed since Jim died. He was the one who suggested I try taking Somulex so I could sleep better. Now I think I might be, well ..." Her voice dropped to a near whisper:"... addicted."
Nicole leaned forward. "What do you mean?"
"I'm taking more than I should."
"But it's a prescription drug," Allison pointed out. "You should be able to only take so much."
Cassidy took a ragged breath. "But I take more than one doctor would prescribe. I'm actually going to three doctors now. None of them know about each other. I know it's stupid, but it's the only way I can get any sleep. But I've been doing some weird things. Like last night, I must have been sleepwalking. I woke up in the parking garage wearing just my pj's, and I was trying to open my car door with a fork! Thank goodness I was able to get back into my condo without anyone seeing me--but that was only because I had left the door wide-open. And the night that Jim died, I basically passed out in the bathtub after taking a couple of Somulex and then drinking wine."
"Oh, Cassidy," Allison said. "You need help now."
Cassidy's eyes flicked from one friend's face to the other's. "I can't--I'm too busy. There's too much going on:'
"You're always going to be too busy," Nicole said matter-of-factly.
Allison squeezed Cassidy's wrist. "This is your life we're talking about, Cass. Look at you. You're shaking. You're not yourself anymore."
With a trembling hand, Cassidy raised her napkin to dab at her wet eyes. "I'm a professional. I tell myself I keep a distance between myself and what's going on. That it's not real. That's how I got through reporting from downtown when everyone thought it was terrorists. I just told myself that I had a job to do. That it didn't have anything to do with me." She poked herself in the chest. "But when I'm home alone at night, it all comes flooding back."
"You need to go to Narcotics Anonymous, girl," Nicole said. "They helped my brother turn his life around."
"She's right," Allison said. The only way Cassidy could conquer this was to turn it over to God, even if NA called Him "a higher power."
Nicole added, "When I get back to the office, I'll find out what meetings are near you and send you an e-mail."
Cassidy's back had gone rigid."I'm not some junkie sticking a needle in my arm. I'm using a drug that was legally prescribed for me."
Nicole was unfazed. "NA is for anyone who has problems with drugs, street or legal. And anyone who is going to three doctors who don't know about each other certainly meets that definition."
"But there'd probably be people there who recognize me." Cassidy shook her head. "What if it gets back to the station?"
"But in NA--," Nicole started to say, when Allison's phone rang. It was her office. She excused herself and took the phone outside.
Once there, she realized that Cassidy had never reparked her car. "Allison, I've got someone on the phone who says he has to talk to you. But he won't tell me why."
"Who is it?"
"Chris Sorenson."
"Put him through ... Chris?"
"Allison, I wanted to talk to you because I didn't think anyone else would believe me."
"Believe you about what?"
"I've been watching the tapes of Glover's last press conference." Allison winced. "I wish they wouldn't keep rebroadcasting it, even if they do cut away at the end. Its ghoulish."
"The thing is," Chris said, "that's not his voice. That's not Quentin Glover's voice at the press conference."
"What? What do you mean?"
"Remember how I said Glover had called in three or four times to threaten Jim? Whoever called is not the same person who spoke at the press conference."
"How can you be so sure?"