"Okay, so unless she walked into the knife, she didn't do this intentionally."
"I never said she did. I'm merely suggesting that running to her bedside might not be the move you want to make. Wait and I'll take you."
I shifted the phone to my other hand. My right one was sweaty, cramping, as if I'd been holding it for hours.
"Olivia?"
"You're right. When?"
"Court ends at two. Your shift finishes at three, I presume?"
"Yes."
"I'll be at your apartment at three thirty."
Chapter Thirty-three
At 3:05, as I was walking back from the diner, Gabriel called.
"Good, I caught you," he said. "Are you going back to your apartment to get ready?"
"If you mean changing out of my uniform, yes."
"You'll want to do more than that."
"Are you going to tell me what to wear again?" I asked. "Once was fine, but twice gets a little creepy."
"I'm merely going to suggest--strongly--that you take extra care and consider the image you want to present. There's a possibility we may encounter media at the hospital."
Of course. I should have thought about that.
"The question you need to ask yourself, Olivia, is are you still hiding? And if so, how much longer do you intend to do so? It's understandable that you didn't wish to face the media right away. You had to process the news about your parents. But as I said yesterday, journalists are like hounds. If you don't run, they lose interest in the chase."
"Great. But I just spent the last week setting up some semblance of a life here. Are you suggesting I just throw that away? Let photographers besiege my apartment until Grace evicts me? Let journalists hang out at the diner until Larry fires me?"
"Would that be so bad?" Gabriel said.
I gritted my teeth to keep from snapping. "I know you think I'm being silly living here and working in a diner. You've made that abundantly clear. However, I did not hire you to give your opinion on my life choices."
A pause. "All right."
"That includes not only advice but snarky and sarcastic side commentary."
A longer pause, and when he said, "All right" again, his voice was as bitingly cold as vodka straight from the freezer. Yes, I'm sure angry clients told him off all the time, but they didn't really mean it, because they were all too aware that he held their freedom in his hands. I'd grown up with lawyers, though, and in my world, they were employees. Valued and respected, but employees nonetheless.
After a moment, he said, "I'm not suggesting you reveal all aspects of your current situation, Olivia. Even if by some chance they tracked you to Cainsville, the town values its privacy. Anyone who asked for you would be told they'd made a mistake--you aren't there."
"That seems a little too good to hope for."
"As I'm sure you've noticed, it's a very insular community. My aunt tells me you've become quite popular with some of the older residents. In Cainsville, town elders still hold power. They'll protect you."
That sounded like something out of another century. But it was comforting, too, and when I glanced up at the omnipresent gargoyles, I felt comforted, as if their fierce scowls would ward off all the plagues that lurked beyond the town borders--including reporters.
"You will need to face the media eventually, Olivia. Do you want a surprise shot, like the ones they've taken so far? Or do you want one that presents the image you wish to convey?"
I paused, considering. Then I said, "Tell me what you have in
mind."