Gray-haired Florence Anderson was a survivor and much of what she had been through showed in her gaunt face. Deep lines creased her forehead and the area that led downward from her nose to her mouth. Frown lines. She hadn’t had much to smile about over the last five years. Yet the clear blue eyes that peered from the hollowed sockets sparkled with heated determination. Florence welcomed the KEY News crew into her home.
As Eliza and Florence shook hands, their eyes locked in mutual understanding.
“I saw Entertainment Tonight last night,” Florence said. “I’m so sorry.”
“Thank you.”
“I’m so glad they got that nut. But I can’t understand how they let him out of jail.”
Eliza shrugged. “That’s how it works, I guess. He made bond and he’s out there until we go to court.”
“That sucks,” Florence spat.
Eliza almost laughed at the incongruity of the words coming from the older woman’s mouth, but Florence was absolutely right. It did suck.
The crew set up in the living room, a shrine to Florence’s daughter. Pictures of Linda Anderson hung on the walls and sat in frames on the tables. Linda as a baby; Linda as a toddler; Linda as a little girl in her Brownie uniform; Linda in a bathing suit, holding a trophy; Linda in cap and gown; Linda holding a microphone, doing an interview in front of a courthouse; Linda sitting behind an anchor desk. Eliza felt a chill as she looked at the pictures that documented a life that was too close to being her own.
She wondered how Florence Anderson could stand being surrounded by all these reminders of her missing daughter each day. If anything ever happened to Janie, Eliza didn’t think she could bear looking at her pictures. If anything ever happened to Janie, she would get a hose, attach it to the tailpipe of the Volvo and run it back into the car and sit there, inhaling deeply until peace came.
Don’t go there!
Keith suggested that Mrs. Anderson sit on the sofa for the interview. Eliza knew he selected the spot because the pictures of Linda would hang on the walls behind her in the shot. A tiny Mack microphone was clipped to the edge of Florence’s blazer.
‘Tell me about your daughter, Mrs. Anderson.”
“Linda was everything a parent would want,” Florence began. “She was a sunny little baby, had a great personality, did well in school, never gave her father—God rest his soul—and me any real trouble. That’s not to say she was a goody-goody, mind you. She liked to have fun and she did the usual things in high school that kids do.” Florence smiled wryly as she remembered. “One time we had to go down to the police station and pick her up. She had been stopped with a bunch of other kids riding around in a car. They’d been drinking.”
Eliza nodded as Florence continued.
“But basically she was just a good, decent kid. Ever since she was a teenager she wanted to work in TV. But this isn’t what Linda had in mind when she said she wanted to be on television.”
Eliza could identify with that, too. “I understand that her career was really on the rise. I’m told there was calk of Linda being hired by KEY News.”
“Yes, an agent had approached her and submitted her audition tape and there was actually an interview set up. Linda was so excited about the possibility of going to work for one of the big networks.” Florence slumped a bit and looked down at the wringing hands in her lap. “But everything happened before Linda went in for those interviews.”
“Linda must have been very good. Agents don’t usually do the approaching. You have to do the approaching and convince them to take you on.”
“She was good,” answered Florence softly. “I know I’m her mother and so I’m biased. But people said that when you met Linda, you felt like you knew her. That came across on TV as well.”
“Can you tell me about the period right before Linda disappeared?” Eliza asked gently.
Florence paused and then straightened resolutely. “Something was wrong. Very, very wrong. Linda thought she was being followed. She called me crying about it a few times. I wanted her to move home and live with us until everything straightened out. If only she had.” The tortured blue eyes looked imploringly at Eliza.
“Linda went to the police?” Eliza led.
“Of course she did. In fairness to them, they put a police escort on her for a while, but while they were around, nothing happened. They said they couldn’t go on escorting her forever. Linda said she wasn’t going to live in fear. She started taking a self-defense course at her health club. But I guess she wasn’t strong enough or skilled enough to save herself.”
“And after Linda disappeared? What happened then?”
“In the beginning, the police went all-out. They searched everywhere, interviewed people who knew her, questioned old boyfriends, spoke to her co-workers. The story was on the Garden State Network every night. People tied yellow ribbons around trees. There was a reward offered for information, but nobody came forward with anything. But if you ask me, as time went on the police gave up. One of the detectives called me into the station and told me that the more time went by, the less chance there was of finding out what had happened. He said the police thought it probably was a mentally disturbed viewer who had become obsessed with Linda and since there were so many people who could have seen Linda on television, the suspect pool was limitless.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Anderson,” said Eliza, reaching out to pat the woman’s hand. “I appreciate you talking to us so candidly. I can only imagine how difficult it is for you.”
“It’s worth it if it can somehow help to figure out what happened to my daughter. I want whoever did this to Linda to be caught.”
The cameraman took some reversal shots of Eliza making small talk with Mrs. Anderson to be used later in the editing room as cutaways. Next he videotaped close-up shots of some of the framed pictures of Linda.
As the group was leaving the house, Florence asked a question as an afterthought.
“Do you know Abigail Snow? She works at KEY.”
Eliza looked at her sharply. “Yes, I know Abigail. She works in our promotions department.”
“Would you please tell her I was asking for her? She and Linda were good friends when they worked together at Garden State Network. They took that self-defense course together. But after Linda disappeared, Abigail got her job in New York and we lost touch. My other daughter, Monica, sees her at the gym once in a while.” Mrs. Anderson sighed. “Yes, Abigail and Linda were great pals.”
On the way back to the Broadcast Center, Eliza and Keith rode in the backseat of the crew car and discussed the interview.
“Can you imagine what life has been like for that poor woman?” Eliza asked, staring out the window.
Keith shook his head.
“It’s a parent’s worst nightmare. Just wait until your baby is born, Keith. The fear of losing that child will be beyond anything you can imagine.”
“That certainly gives me something to look forward to,” he said glumly.
Eliza looked at her producer sitting beside her, biting anxiously at the side of his thumbnail. Her disdain for Keith’s behavior in Dallas had turned to pity. Here he was, going out to make his living in a very pressurized environment each day, clearly unhappy at home. With a child on the way, he was truly forced to join the world of adults. Big responsibilities and no turning back. It was easy to feel trapped.
Eliza wanted to tell him that she understood, but she refrained. He might misinterpret what she said and think she was reaching out to him. Better to keep the personal side of things out of their relationship.
“You know, Keith, I’ve been thinking. Maybe we should do a FRESHER LOOK on the loss of a child.”
“Sure, Eliza, whatever you say.” There was no enthusiasm whatsoever in Keith’s voice.