She's not like us, Livy. She just isn't. Fair or not, you're going to need to be strong enough for two. Can you do that?
"Is Howard still here?" I called.
"Yes."
"Tell him I'll be down in a minute. We'll--"
The crash of breaking glass cut me off.
I threw open my door. A thump from downstairs. I pushed my mother behind me, shielding her.
"Howard?" I yelled.
"They've broken in," my mother whimpered. "Oh my God, they've broken in."
"They're journalists, Mum, not a lynch mob. No matter how badly they want the story, they won't break in to get it. Just hold tight."
I started for the stairs.
She grabbed my arm. "Don't leave me here."
"Okay, then stay right behind me--" Damn it, that wouldn't work, either. While I was sure we hadn't been invaded by crazed paparazzi, I wasn't taking my mother downstairs until I knew what was going on.
"Howard?" I called from the top of the steps.
He appeared at the bottom. "They broke a pane in the French doors to the patio." His face was calm, but his voice quavered. "I think it was an accident. They were jostling to get a picture and a pane broke."
"Okay, so have you called--?"
A shout from below. So loud and clear that I froze.
"Are they inside?"
"No, no. They're just shouting for you through the broken pane. They want you to make a statement. In my professional opinion, I don't think you should speak to them."
"Good, because I'm not going to. Have you called the police?"
"I don't want to raise a fuss," my mother murmured behind me.
"There are people in our backyard, Mum. I'm raising as big a fuss as I can. Call the police now, Howard. We're going to stay up here until someone comes."
Howard made the call. I heard him speaking into the phone, then his voice got loud. "When you have someone free? Maybe I'm not making myself clear. Mrs. Lena Taylor--who is a generous donor to your force's annual fund-raiser--is under siege, with hooligans breaking her windows."
Hooligans? That made it sound like some kid jumped the fence and tossed a rock.
"Wait here," I said to my mother. "I'll handle this."
Chapter Six
My mother chirped in protest but stayed on the top step as I descended. When I got to the bottom, I saw three faces plastered to the broken patio door, like kids trying to catch a glimpse of an R-rated movie.
A burst of flashes blinded me.
"Ms. Jones?"
"Olivia?"
Shit. Okay, not my brightest move. I retreated out of sight.