“The U.S. government was not responsible for Grace Sebold going to jail. But they have a responsibility to help their citizens. It should only be in their best interest to help her if she’s innocent. Janet Station wanted to know if I could delay any of the information that’s coming about the blood and the so-called bleach cleanup. And about the prints on the oar and the blood on the blade, just until they had a chance to review everything.”
“I hope you told her to piss off.”
“Not quite, but I told her I had deadlines and there would be no delaying the documentary.”
“Good. No delays. Your audience is ravenous. The latest test audience is pulling for Grace Sebold’s innocence, polling at ninety percent. And the executive team met yesterday. They want the conclusion more displayed.”
“Really? Is that whatthe executiveswant, Graham? And this whole time, I thoughtIwas producing this documentary.”
“You are. I’m just telling you what the higher-ups are looking at.”
“You saw the outline I submitted. I’m going to show her innocence the best I can, Graham. There are always grayareas with these cases. But I’m going to paint it the best I can to be black and white. I thought I had theirfull confidence,according to Ray Sandberg.”
“You do. They’re just confirming the direction of the documentary. We’ve been through this, Sid. This is network television, not a freelance film. They like to maintain control and make sure they know what’s coming.”
She came to the Liberty, which typically could not be approached at 5:00 p.m. on a Friday evening. With the mass exodus, though, Sidney found it comfortably populated with only a few tables taken. The hostess seated her and Sidney ordered a $14 margarita and fish tacos.
“When you saythey,” Sidney said, “you’re talking about yourself. I hope you’re aware that I know that.”
There was a pause before Graham said, “I wish I’d have stayed in the city this weekend.”
“Trust me,” Sidney said, looking around the mostly-empty restaurant, “nothing’s going on in the city.”
“You’re there,” Graham said. “We could’ve spent some time together.”
“Listen,” Sidney said. “I’ll make sure my documentary continues to show that Grace Sebold may, in fact, be innocent. As was the original goal of the series. As was laid out in the original pitch. As has been promoted by all the advertising, and by Dante Campbell herself. Now get off the phone and enjoy your weekend in the Hamptons, check off your little boxes for your rich buddies, and tell them we’re all on the same page and that their precious little investment is going to turn out just fine.”
“I believe that was the definition of changing the subject.”
Silence.
“You’ve got the most-watched show in the country, Sid. I’m proud of you.”
“Thanks, Graham.”
“Luke’s special starts tonight.”
“Hence my blue-hair dinner at five o’clock. I want to get home to watch it. Have you seen any of it?”
“No. I missed the screening, but I heard it’s good.”
“I’m sure we’ll hear about it next week. Enjoy the weekend, Graham.”
She had two margaritas with her tacos, just enough to allow her mind to wander back to Graham’s suggestion that he should have stayed in the city with her for the weekend. Sidney knew where that would have led, and she’d spent too much energy untangling herself from the mess to tie herself back up. Their six-month affair had ended more than a year ago. They had met at a cocktail party when Sidney was working on her second documentary and gaining a name for herself. She was an aspiring producer and Graham Cromwell was a powerful network executive. They each knew of the other’s work, and conversation was easy. They casually dated for six months when Graham mentioned that Luke Barrington was looking for a producer. Sidney had just finished her second documentary and was considering her next project. Television had never been a consideration, but the exposure and experience of producing Luke Barrington’s top-rated show was enough to convince her. When she signed her contract with the network, she had a talk with Graham. Sidney tried for a clean break, but those never work. Instead, a messier three months passed where they were on-again, off-again until Sidney ended things for good when she sensed whispers in the hallways at work. That Graham was her boss was the perfect reason not to get involved with him again. It was actually the perfect reason not to get involved with him in the first place, but that ship had sailed. All she could do now was right her course and not turn back.
She took her margarita buzz to the subway. She was comfortably on her couch in time to catch the opening ofTheGirl of Sugar Beach.She had always been her worst critic, but had to admit that with Leslie’s editing and production, Geno Mack’s writing, and the special effect team’s magic, the opening was flawless. She watched the full hour, never once bored by the footage she had produced and put together. She made some mental notes about camera angles and lighting, noting that future scenes with the lovely Livia Cutty needed to be framed in grittier hues to bring out the haunting revelations the woman, who seemed to have been created to star in true-crime documentaries, brought to the screen. The closing music was perfect, the teaser promo for next week alluring, and when the credits rolled, Sidney allowed herself to feel proud.
Halfway through the project, with a building audience and a clear direction toward the finale, Sidney Ryan was finally feeling confident. The goal would be to show the possibility of Grace Sebold’s innocence, to lay raw all the inconsistencies that helped convict her, and, in the end, show the woman Grace had become. Sidney would offer her own conclusions, but ultimately Grace’s innocence would be left for the viewers to debate. She had an audience that rivaledMaking a Murdererand that trumpedSerial.The difference: Sidney believed she had an ending that would satisfy.
Sidney pulled her gaze from the television and looked down at the ratings spreadsheet from Monday morning’s meeting: The Girl of Sugar Beach—12.1M viewers/9.4 share.
Luke Barrington’s voice floated from the television, and his arrogant face filled the screen as his White House special began. Sidney hit the remote and the Bear’s face disappeared. She mixed another margarita and headed to her bedroom, where she picked up the novel from her nightstand and pushed away the nagging truth that she was alone on a holiday weekend.
CHAPTER 32
Saturday, July 1, 2017
SHE SLEPT IN SATURDAY MORNING AND ENJOYED A NEAR-EMPTY SUBWAYcar as she commuted to work through the vacant city. If Thursday was a purging of residents and Friday a slow trickle of those left behind, Saturday was the aftermath of Armageddon. A few stray cabs snuck quietly through the streets, and a police officer on horseback clicked along West Fortieth Street.
