Outside the station Monica Allagash was waiting, her normally eager, dogged expression replaced by a wan, stricken look. Anissa almost didn’t recognize the reporter without her determination. She nearly walked right past her.
But then Monica called her name. Anissa turned reflexively, then regretted it when she realized who it was. Not now.
“Yes?” Anissa asked. She stood frozen in place, not making any effort to close the gap between them.
“I heard,” Monica said. “About Davy.”
“I’m sure you did,” Anissa said, crossing her arms. “But I’m not going to give any statements now. There’ll be a press conference later this afternoon.” She turned to go.
“Wait!” Monica called. “I-I don’t want a statement. That-that’s not why I came.”
Anissa turned back and raised her eyebrows as if to say she was listening.
Monica shifted her weight, then looked at the doors leading into the police station before looking back at Anissa.
“I was asleep when I got the call, and of course, after I heard the news about Davy, I couldn’t go back to sleep. So I got out of bed and went to my computer. I started pulling up all the stock photos and videos we have of him. You know, the ones we’ve all seen.”
She looked at Anissa, who nodded at her to go on.
“I started looking at them all, one after the other. And I was just . . . struck. It was like I was seeing him for the first time. Seeing him as something other than a story.” She sighed. “So I started putting them all into a file, like a slideshow. Then I added this instrumental piece that I thought was really beautiful, to set the tone. I was thinking maybe we could run it at noon or tonight. Or both. You know, as a tribute to Davy?”
Anissa nodded again, still not sure why Monica was telling her this but unsure how to ask without sounding rude.
“That’s a nice gesture,” she said.
“But then I thought maybe it’s something you guys would like to show before the press conference. Kind of like a—I don’t know—moment of silence kind of thing? So everyone there realizes what I—” She broke off, blinking rapidly to stave off threatening tears. Anissa watched with a kind of fascination as she witnessed what she’d once thought impossible: Monica Allagash being an actual human being.
Monica composed herself and went on. “So everyone there realizes what I lost sight of a long time ago. That Davy was an actual person, a little boy with a sense of humor and things he loved and a family who loved him.”
Anissa felt tears collecting behind her own eyes. She thought of that little boy, laughing and running and alive that night. When she spoke, her voice was thick in her throat.
“That’s kind of you.”
Monica looked down at the ground, then back up. She held out a flash drive. “Feel free to make it available to all the other outlets.” She shrugged. “To anyone who wants it.”
“I’m sure they will,” Anissa said. She walked toward Monica and accepted the flash drive. “Thank you for doing that.”
Monica grinned and winked. “Maybe don’t tell anyone where it came from, though. Wouldn’t want anyone thinking I’m losing my edge.”
Anissa smiled back. “Your secret’s safe with me.”