After I checked in to the airport hotel, I called Howard. I wasn't surprised when it went straight to voice mail. I asked him to tell my mother that I needed some time to process all this. Please trust that I'd be fine and I'd call tomorrow.
I was heading to the elevators and saw a sign for the bar. I didn't know if it would be open, but I considered checking. I've never drunk for the sake of getting drunk, but there's a first time for everything. There was just one problem--I didn't know how much alcohol it would take to pass out. That's what I wanted really. Oblivion. For all I knew, I'd have a few drinks and drift off into nightmares.
Instead I went into the gift shop. Not many gifts in it--just lots of overpriced items for travelers, including over-the-counter sleeping pills. I bought a bottle, went up to my room, took a double dose, and prayed for a dreamless night.
I'd lived the first years of my life with Pamela and Todd Larsen. I'd been there at the heart of their killing spree. What living nightmares had been shoved deep into my subconscious, ready now to worm their way out when I surrendered to the deepest sleep?
Or dark desires. Deeply buried lusts and needs and fantasies, coming to the fore when my conscience slumbered. What did I--?
Nothing.
That night, I dreamed of nothing.
Even with the pills, I was up by six. I waited until seven to call my mother. I had my speech all rehearsed.
She didn't answer her cell phone.
I hung up and told myself I'd call back in an hour. I lasted five minutes. I got her voice mail again and spilled my speech onto it instead.
I told her I'd decided to stay away for a while. For her sake. I knew how hard this would be on her and I didn't want to put her through even more by hanging around. I'd stay away until things died down. I didn't know what I'd do or where I'd go, but I'd figure out something.
That last part hadn't been part of the rehearsal. Even as I spoke the words, I felt ashamed of myself. It didn't sound strong. It sounded like a little girl, desperately hoping for Mummy to call back and tell her not to be silly. I belonged at home. With her. We'd handle this together.
Two minutes after I hung up, my phone rang. I hit the answer button so fast, it didn't connect and I had to hit it again.
"Olivia." It was Mum. "Howard says to tell you that you shouldn't be using your cell phone. These tabloid people can get your records. They might even be able to record your calls."
"Right." I swallowed. "Sorry. I wasn't thinking. Do you, um, want me to call back on the hotel line?"
"Yes, and I'm going to give you the number of the new cell phone Howard gave me, in case they're monitoring my usual one as well."
She did. I phoned it.
"I'm sorry," I blurted when she answered. "I'm so sorry about all of this."
I waited for her to insist it wasn't my fault. Instead, she said, "It's out now. There's nothing we can do except deal with it."
I nodded. "That's what I want to do, Mum. Deal with it. Maybe hire a media consultant or a PR firm. We'll figure out how to handle this head on. Get past it."
Silence. Then, "I thought you were going to sit it out. That's what your message said."
"Sure. I could. If that's what you want. But I really think it's best that we face this--"
"I was nearly killed by those reporters last night, Olivia."
I bit my tongue before continuing, "All right. I'll handle it. Tell Howard to phone--"
"Howard thinks you were right. You should go someplace. Wait this out. I agree. That's best for everyone."
Now it was my turn for silence.
Mum didn't seem to notice, pausing only a moment before saying, "I suppose you'll need money."
"Suppose?" A white-hot grain of fury ignited behind my eyes. "My God. You hand cash to street people more graciously than that."
"Then I misspoke." Did I imagine a chill in her voice? "You'll have whatever you need. I'll write you a check today."
"Write me a check? I thought that was our money. Family money. No, wait. That doesn't apply now, does it? If I want an allowance, I'll need to visit the Larsens."