“And what? They sent you to rein me in?”
“Yes. They talked with me about it. I told them I’d talk with you.”
“Luke, I missed a deadline. It’s not the end of the world, and in the grand scheme—”
“Don’t do it their way,” Luke said, cutting her off.
“What?”
“Do ityourway. Shit, Sidney, if I could start my career over and take a path that more closely represented my interests, I’d do it in a second. Instead, here I sit. I’m a ratings whore. I live by my ratings, and eventually I’ll die by them. I’ve painted myself into such a tight corner that I don’t even get to choose my stories anymore. I have to stick with the masses. They tell me what to feature, and I do it. If I run something that’s not a ratings giant, I’m a failure. Don’t set your career on the same course.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Because I know what you’re after. And I compare it to what I chased my entire career. I was after fame and fortune. You’re after the truth. What I could never figure out until watching you over the last few months is that you don’t have to chase one or the other. But you’ve got to start off looking for the truth, not the other way around.”
A slight smile came to Sidney’s face. “I’m not sure Ray Sandberg would appreciate the advice you’re giving me.”
Luke smiled also. “Fuck ’em.” He turned to leave. “Can’t wait to see the final episodes. But do them your way.”
For the first time since knowing him, when Luke Barrington left her, there was no cavernous ringing in her ears.
* * *
Although it was a dump of an episode, created because new findings had caused her to question how she wanted to proceed with the documentary, Sidney refused to produce substandard work. She and Leslie made sure the episode wasa well-constructed and entertaining retelling of the previous seven installments that summarized the details of Julian Crist’s death and Grace Sebold’s incarceration, the holes that existed in her conviction, the mistakes in judgment and procedure made by the St. Lucian Police Force, and an explanation for the evidence against Grace Sebold.
Anyone interested in jumping into the documentary now had an opportunity to get caught up in sixty minutes. Her problem was where she went from here. She knew, in light of recent developments, that Graham’s outline for the final three episodes was garbage. The way the executives wanted the documentary to end— nice and neat, with a big red bow tied to Grace Sebold’s exoneration—was not going to happen. Once Henry Anderson’s death was revealed, all hell would break loose. And if she moved forward with her theory about the love lock and who had swung it, there was no chance of wrapping things up in three weeks.
She hailed a cab and paid the fare twenty minutes later when the driver pulled to the front of the Alcove Manor. She checked in at the front desk, stuck her name tag onto her blouse, and rode the elevator. She found Gus Morelli sitting in his bedside chair watching the recap episode. He pulled his gaze from the television when she walked in, then pointed to the screen.
“What the hell is this?”
“A summary episode.”
“I just cringe watched the whole season, I don’t need a recap.”
“Bingewatched. And I missed a deadline, thanks to your letter. This is what you get.”
Gus muted the television. “What did you find?”
“The skull fractures are the same,” Sidney said.
He narrowed his eyes. “How do you know for sure?”
“The M.E. compared Henry’s skull fractures from autopsy to Julian Crist’s. They’re nearly identical.”
“Son of a bitch,” Gus said.
“And,” Sidney said, “I think I found the murder weapon.”
Gus shook his head like it was too much, then waved his hand. “Help me up. I’ve gotta walk while you tell me this story.”
A few minutes later, Sidney walked next to Gus as he shuffled down the hallway, his walker sliding over the linoleum as he limped on his prosthesis. She told the story of the last twenty-four hours, her aborted attempt to confront Grace Sebold, her cryptic chess match with Marshall, the love lock, and her visit to Dr. Cutty’s morgue this morning.
“That’s a helluva find,” Gus said.
“Now the question is, what do I do with it? I’ve got to talk to Mrs. Anderson again to let her know what we found and to see what she wants to do about it. Then I’ve got to talk to the police.”
Gus shook his head. “Reopening a twenty-year-old case is never tops on their list. They weren’t keen on it when I tried after eight years. But with enough evidence and pressure, like you might be able to bring, they won’t be able to ignore it. The other issue is that she just got out of jail.”
