That one caught her alongside the head, and momentary confusion crossed her face. I felt a little thrill of exultation. Thank you, Grandpère. She shot a look at the producer, who was shaking his head frantically.
When she turned back, she was less sure of herself. “It’s nothing that you and your family haven’t already testified to. We’re not revealing new information here.”
Oh, really? But I let it go. “Here’s another question. I think you are aware that this is an ongoing investigation being conducted under the direction of the FBI.”
“Of course. And we contacted the FBI immediately after receiving the packet. We will be fully cooperating with them in this matter.”
“Did the FBI give you permission to go on air with this information?”
“No,” she shot back. “But the public’s right to know is protected by the First Amendment, which guarantees freedom of speech.” She took a quick breath. “Look, our time is nearly over, so unfortunately we have to wind this up, Danni. I—”
I was searching my mind to remember all that Grandpère had told me. I cut in quickly. “You seemed especially interested in this pouch of mine. Evidently, in his statement, El Cobra claimed that it had strange and unusual powers—even magical powers?”
“Yes. So?”
“Did it ever occur to you and your producers that this might be a very clever way for his attorney to set up a possible plea of not guilty by reason of insanity?”
“What? No. That doesn’t make sense.”
“Sure it does. He’s gone round the bend. He’s off his rocker. Delusional. Out of touch with reality. And now, everyone in America knows it. It’s actually quite brilliant, when you think about it.”
“That is pure speculation,” Cierra snapped, “and totally unsubstantiated.”
“Or maybe,” I mused, “maybe this is a clever way for that attorney to discredit my testimony. Show that I’m the one who’s delusional. After all, I have a magic purse, right? How much credence can the court give to a girl like that?”
I stood up abruptly, catching her totally off guard. “Since this discussion now has legal ramifications for me and my family, I think it’s best if we end our interview here and now. Any further questions should be directed to our attorney.”
And with that, I finally found the courage to follow Rick’s example. I stood, removed my microphone, laid it down on the side table, and walked off the set.
CHAPTER 20
One of Cierra’s assistants hurried up to us and suggested that we go out the back door to avoid the crowd waiting out front. While her motives were almost certainly to protect Cierra from further embarrassment, it was appreciated nevertheless. I didn’t feel like facing anyone right now.
None of us spoke as she led us through the labyrinth of passageways to a back alley. She pointed the way back to our hotel, thanked us, started to shut the door, then opened it again. To my surprise, she smiled at me and said, “Nicely done, Danni.” She looked quickly over her shoulder, then lowered her voice. “And tell Rick that I thought he was perfect.” Blushing, she quickly shut the door and disappeared.
When the door clicked shut, everyone started talking at once. Mom and Dad were furious. Cody was griping about how rude Cierra was. He started to say something to me, but I held up my hand, cutting him off. I grabbed my cell phone. “I’ve got to find Rick.”
Mom reached out and put her hand over mine. “He texted us a few minutes ago. He’s waiting at a small sidewalk café about a block south of the studio. It’s called the Blue Bistro.” She leaned in and gave me a quick but heartfelt hug. “You did brilliantly, Danni. But you’re right. Go talk to him. We’ll meet you back at the hotel.”
That didn’t require any persuasion. I jammed the phone back in my pocket and took off. As I ran, I just kept cursing myself. Had I crossed a line in our friendship that was nonrecoverable? What had possessed me to tell them about our kiss? It was a good thing I was out of the studio because right now I wanted to claw that smug smile off Cierra Pierce’s face. She did this. And she did it deliberately.
Rick barely looked up when I slid into the chair across from him. “Hi,” I said softly.
“Hi.” He was using his fork to trace circles on tablecloth. “So, it’s over?”
“Yes.” Silence. “Did you watch the rest of it?”
He didn’t look up. “Yes.”
“I’m sorry about what happened. I had no idea she would ask those kinds of questions.”
“Oh? I thought that was what the pouch was for.”
I stared at him, stung by what he was suggesting. “Le Gardien doesn’t make me a mind reader, Rick.”
“Oh?” he said again. Thankfully, he didn’t start listing all the times the pouch had done pretty close to exactly that. I started to change the subject, but suddenly it all came out.
“This was all a game to her, Danni. She set you up. She set us up. It was an ambush from the very first. I had that feeling before we ever went in. But you didn’t?”
I wasn’t sure what to say to that. “No, I didn’t see it coming. The pouch gave me nothing.”
“I wonder why that is?” Then he waved it off. “Forget I said that. I guess the only question I really have is this: Why did you feel compelled to give her every detail about our kiss? I thought that was between you and me.”
My head dropped. “I ... I’m sorry, Rick, I—”
“How many others have you told?” he asked, and now the bitterness was evident.
“No one. I swear. I wouldn’t do that.”
“Except to twenty or thirty million viewers,” he said softly. Then he burst out. “I guess I can see why you admitted we had kissed. That got her off the lover thing. But why tell her everything? Who said she gets to set all the rules?”
“Because ...” I felt the frustration welling up inside me. Because the reason she asked me about the kiss was she wanted to prove her point, that our relationship was more than just friends. That was why she wanted to know what kind of kiss it was. Can’t you see that? But all I said was, “I couldn’t think of what else to say.”
He sighed. “How about, ‘None of your business, Cierra’? That would have shut her up.”
“Really? It didn’t shut her up when you said it.”
“Forget it,” he said. He sighed, looking away again. Neither of us spoke as we retreated into our respective emotional corners. I was thinking of what to say that might allow us to come out and shake hands and declare the fight over. But another part of me was smoldering too. I knew he was ticked, but why had he walked off and left me—No, Danni! You go with your pride here and you could lose him.
So I started again. “Rick, I am really, really sorry. When you kissed me, it was ... well, I’ll just say it was one of the best moments of my entire life. And now I’ve ruined it, cheapened it, and I would do anything to take back what I said.”
“Well, you can’t, Danni. You just threw twenty or thirty million feathers to the wind. There’s no picking them up again now.”
I had to look away. I couldn’t let him see the pain. Not now. Oh, how I wished he would just take me in his arms and hold me. Stroke my hair and tell me it was all right, that I was forgiven.
I could tell he was watching me, but I didn’t look up. Finally, he touched my shoulder. “Danni?”
I didn’t answer. I didn’t move.
“Talk to me. Please.”
“If talk is just feathers in the wind, what difference does it make?”
“I’m sorry for that. I didn’t mean it. Now it’s me that cheapened you by tossing your apology back in your face.”
I finally looked up at him. “I meant it, Rick. I feel horrible. I can’t believe I did it.”
“I know. It’s just that ... I don’t know. Suddenly, here we were in New York, living this fairy-tale experience. Only I felt like
you were here trying on the glass slippers and I was outside cleaning up after the horses.”
I wanted to laugh. My Rick was using a princess metaphor? And yet I was touched, because I guess I never thought about how the guy felt who was always outside the palace.
“Rick, it’s over now. No more shows. So can we just kind of start over and—“
I stopped when I saw Rick’s eyes lift and look up at something behind me. Before I could turn to see, I felt a tap on my shoulder. I half turned in my seat and looked up. A woman was standing just behind me. “Excuse me,” she said in a rich Southern accent, “but aren’t y’all that McAllister girl?” She was about twenty-five and wore shorts and a halter top, even though it was a bit of a brisk September day.
“Yes, I’m Danni McAllister.”
“I thought so,” she crowed. She dove into her purse, which looked big enough to house a cattle truck, and came up with a cell phone. “I saw y’all on the show. We couldn’t get tickets but I was outside watching. Y’all were wonderful.”
“Thank you.” I glanced at Rick, who was intently counting the threads in the tablecloth.
“And y’all are the boyfriend, right?”
He managed a pasted-on smile. “Yes. Melark. Peeta Melark.”
“Oh, you,” she said, waving a hand at him. “I know your real name. It’s ... uh ... Ricardo. Right? Yes. Ricky Ricardo.” Up came the camera. “I just loved what y’all did, putting Miss High and Mighty Cierra in her place. Can I take a picture of y’all?”
“Of course,” I said, putting on a bit of a drawl myself. “Why don’t I take the picture while y’all sit there by Rick.”
“Oh, no,” she cried in horror. “I want one with all three of us.” She swung around to the couple at the table just to our left. “Could y’all take our picture for us, please?”
The guy—a young black guy with a shaved head and neatly trimmed beard who was already laughing—stood up and held out his hand. “I’d be happy to.”
She handed him the camera. “Oh my, they are nevah gonna believe me back in Louisiana.” As Rick and I slid our chairs closer together, she squeezed in between us.
“Smile,” our photographer said. The flash went off and he checked the screen. “Looks great.”
“Do another one,” she cried. “Just to be sure.”
He did, but as he finished, the young black woman with him was up and beside him, her cell phone up too. “I saw you on David Letterman last night,” she said. “You two were awesome.” She handed the camera to her guy. “Jason, take one of me with Danni.” Then to me, “Is that all right?”
“Sure, why not?” Rick said. He quickly got up and stepped back.
Before we were through, six other luncheon customers or passersby had gotten in on the act. When we were done and the last thank-yous were given, I turned around to see how Rick had fared.
I didn’t learn much. Rick was nowhere to be seen.
Ah, man! Did you just walk out on me?
After confirming he wasn’t just standing nearby waiting, I looked at his plate. There was a napkin folded neatly on it, hiding the portion of his lunch he hadn’t eaten. I reached over and picked it up. Scrawled across the paper diagonally was a message from Rick:
This is your fairy tale, not mine. I’m sorry, but I won’t be going to France with your family. My flight back home leaves at seven fifteen tonight.
CHAPTER 21
My mind was in so much turmoil by the time I got back to the hotel, I walked right into the arms of the waiting crowd of media. I heard someone shout, “There she is!” then saw people sprinting toward me. Only then did I realize my mistake.
“Ms. McAllister, tell us about the magic pouch.” “Show us Le Gardien.” “Have you and Rick ever discussed marriage?” “Are you going to sue Cierra Pierce for defamation of character?” “Where’s your boyfriend?” “How does your enchanted purse work?” They were coming so fast and furious that it registered more as a dull roar than individual questions. Cameras were clicking. Microphones were shoved at me. I ducked my head, lowered my shoulder, and pushed into them.
Suddenly I heard a voice roar out, and my heart leaped for joy. “FBI! Stand back. FBI! Coming through. Get back, people! Move! Move!” And a moment later, Clay and two of his agents appeared as if the Red Sea had divided and opened up a path for me to escape. Clay took my elbow. “Let’s go.” And with the two agents opening up the way before us, we pushed our way through and entered the hotel.
“Thank you, Clay. I—”
He still had my elbow and was steering me toward the elevators past the gaping lobby crowd. “Why didn’t you answer your phone?” he asked in a low voice. “We were going to bring you through another entrance.”
I shook my head. My phone hadn’t been ringing. Then I remembered. I had turned it off as we started the show, and everything since then had been so crazy, I had started to turn it on, then hadn’t when Mom told me where Rick was. I slowed my step. “Is Rick here?”
“Yes. He’s upstairs.”
“I—”
“Let’s go upstairs. Joel is there with your family.” He frowned. “We need to talk.”
The first thing I saw as my family swarmed me was that Rick was not there. “Where is he?” I asked, looking over Mom’s shoulder as she came and threw her arms around me.
“He’s in his room,” she said. She looked away. “He’s packing.”
“No! You don’t know what happened. I have to talk to him.”
Dad came up right behind me. “Rick told us what happened,” he said. “You can go to him in a minute, but we need you to sit down now.”
“Danni?” Joel called from the far side of the room. “Please come in. There have been a couple of new developments we need to talk about.”
With Mom and Dad escorting me, we all sat down. Joel, who remained standing, began immediately. “We learned about two hours ago that the law firm we talked about earlier sent an attorney in yesterday to represent some of the members of the gang.”
“Only some?” Mom asked in surprise. “Which ones?”
“Just four. Armando Mendosa and his wife, Eileen; Raul Muñoz, or the one you called Doc; and the Belgian—Jean-Claude Allemand.”
“Doc,” I whispered. That familiar creepy feeling when I had been around him was instantly back. And I was thinking of Jean-Claude, too. The two worst ones. Both were more frightening to me than El Cobra had ever been.
“Not Gordo?” Cody asked.
“No. Only the four.”
“Wonder how the rest feel about that?” I said.
“Madder than you-know-what,” Clay said, “which we think will work to our advantage. Word has already reached us that they have asked for court-appointed attorneys. We have a team on its way to interrogate them and offer them a deal if they tell us everything they know.”
“That’s wonderful,” Dad said.
Joel shook his head. “Probably not. I think whoever is behind all this was willing to sacrifice the ones they did because they knew those particular gang members don’t know that much. Anyway, that substantiates that the source for the notebook sent to Cierra was El Cobra.”
Grandpère was shaking his head before Joel finished. “No.”
“No?”
“She had too many details that none of the gang members knew.”
“Like what?”
“Danni’s nicknames for them. Raul was Doc, and Gordo was Lew. Did you ever call them that to their faces, Danni?”
“No.”
Grandpère turned to me as if to speak, but then he hesitated a moment. “And there was one other detail that came only from Danni’s journal. Even we in the family didn’t know about it until we heard it today.”
My face flamed, and I ducked my head.
“The kiss,” Mom said, nodding.
�
��Then how ... ?” Joel exclaimed.
Dad saw what Grandpère was suggesting. “Tell them about the broken thread, Danni.”
I snapped up my head at that. I had forgotten all about it. So I explained how I had put a thread across the top of each door the day of the mine explosion, and how the one on the back door had been broken. I turned to Grandpère. “But my journal was locked in the safe.”
Clay was nodding now too. “A simple task for a professional burglar.”
Mom was clearly perplexed. “But why would whoever this is release that information to the media? Did they ask for anything in return for this packet of stuff they gave Cierra?”
“No, nothing.”
“But that doesn’t make sense,” Mom cried.
“Not to us,” Grandpère answered, “but you can be sure that it makes perfect sense to them.”
I was barely listening. A deep groan rose up from somewhere inside me and burst forth. “Not my journal! Please don’t tell me some stranger is reading all the stupid, ditzy stuff I wrote in there.” But I knew instantly that Grandpère was right. It explained everything.
Joel was pulling at his lower lip. He looked to Dad. “Is your safety deposit key somewhere in the house? We’ll need your permission to have the bank let us get it.” When Dad nodded, he turned to Clay. “Send down a team. I want Danni’s journal checked for prints.”
“If they can open a safe without us knowing it, they won’t be foolish enough to leave prints,” Dad noted.
“I know,” Joel replied, “but we have to try.”
“But you can’t read it,” I blurted.
Clay laughed softly. “You have my word.”
Suddenly all business, Joel straightened. “All right, that explains a lot. But on to the next thing.” He took a quick breath. “Because we no longer have to wait for Rick’s passport to clear, Clay and I agree that you ought to skip Washington and go directly to France in the morning.”
“No! He needs a passport. I need to talk to him.”
His eyes filled with compassion, Joel looked at me. “If you can convince him to go with you, we’re all for it. We told him it will be very difficult if he goes back to Hanksville, but ... you two are going to have to work it out.”
To Run With the Swift Page 30