Elizabeth picked up her phone, frantically scrolling through her messages from Bruce as she sat in her car at a red light. She’d calmed down Robin with a Tylenol PM and comforting words and promises to come back as soon as she could. She’d also managed to convince the girl not to talk to the police again—at least not right now. In the meantime, she told her not to let anyone in. Luckily, Elizabeth had been able to slip out the back door unseen.
Bruce’s texts were growing desperate. He needed her. He said he could explain. The journalist in Elizabeth told her there were two sides to every story. No question that Bruce had done a crazy thing, but she wouldn’t be an objective reporter unless she gave him the chance to explain.
Plus, the man she loved was in jail, and no matter what Elizabeth suspected, she did still love Bruce. She wanted to help him if she could.
But she also worried. Did he know she’d been the one to pay Robin Platt’s rent?
I CAN EXPLAIN, Bruce had texted.
So can I, Elizabeth thought. Or, at least, she hoped she could.
The light turned green and she tossed the phone to her passenger seat and stomped her foot on the accelerator. As a reporter, she knew where the jail was, of course, and with hardly anyone on the street at almost five in the morning, she could easily make it in less than ten minutes. Please God, don’t let me be too late, she thought.
By the time she sped into the parking lot, she saw a news crew cameraman climbing into a satellite truck in the parking lot. A hard pit formed in her stomach. She’d missed him.
She recognized Daniel Scott, a local news anchor for Channel Five, from seeing him on the local morning show.
“Daniel!” Elizabeth called. The reporter paused, his hand on the truck’s door handle, and glanced over in her direction. “Hey, I’m a reporter from the Tribune.”
“Oh, right. I think I saw you at the mayor’s press conference last month.”
“That’s right. Did I miss Bruce Patman?” Elizabeth asked.
“Yep.” Daniel laughed a little. “You Tribune guys are always sooooo slow. You missed the money shot. Patman’s been bailed out. He left already.”
“Do you know where he went?”
“We’re not TMZ. We don’t give chase,” Daniel said, and shrugged. “But he was with some woman who drove a white Bentley. A flashy one with gold trim.” Daniel rolled his eyes.
Elizabeth knew exactly who was driving a white Bentley with gold trim. How did Missy get there so fast? Just in case missing Bruce wasn’t bad enough.
“How long ago?” she asked Daniel.
“Just a few minutes.”
“Damn,” Elizabeth breathed.
“Oh, trust me, no need to be that upset. He didn’t say anything. It seems he’s lawyered up. You didn’t miss much.”
Elizabeth thought of Bruce, alone in his time of need in jail, only to be saved by Missy LeGrange, and she couldn’t stop the thought, petty though it was: Why did it have to be her?