Page 43 of She Didn’t See It Coming

Lizzie spends some more time with Clara, but she’s troubled, not able to focus on her niece the way she usually would.

She wants to take her to the park, but she’s intimidated by the crowd of reporters outside the front of the building.

She’d been able to bypass them, driving in through the underground parking garage.

Now she stands at the window, staring down at them.

Someone out there sees her and waves. Lizzie is taken aback, steps quickly away from the window.

She realizes how tired she is of being cooped up. “I think I’ll take Clara out to the park after all,” she calls to Sam. “Is that all right?”

“Sure. Okay if I don’t come with you? I mean, they’d be swarming around me, but I think they’ll leave you alone.”

“You think? They know what I look like, what Clara looks like.”

He seems to consider it. Then he says, “Clara needs some fresh air. If they harass you, come right back. And I’ll complain to the detectives, maybe they can do something about them.”

“Okay.” She bundles Clara up quickly, takes her by the hand, and together they leave the apartment and take the elevator down to the lobby.

As they exit the condo’s glass front doors, they are met with the crowd of media.

They don’t rush her and Clara, but they stand in clusters and watch them.

The reporters know who they are. Lizzie says nothing, keeps her head down, and tries to make her way to the park across the street, tugging Clara by the hand.

She is aware of their photographs being taken, and she doesn’t like it.

She stops in her tracks. “Please,” she says.

“No photographs. Respect our privacy. She’s only three years old.

” And then she keeps walking. It doesn’t stop the photographers, but what did she expect?

And worse, she seems to have opened up a dialogue with them, because now they’re calling out questions, with no regard for Clara at all.

Does the family support Sam?

Haven’t seen Bryden’s parents over here for a while. Why’s that?

Who do you think killed your sister, Lizzie?

She’s quickened the pace. This was a mistake.

She can turn back now and run the gauntlet again or keep going.

She decides to keep going, clutching Clara’s hand tightly, hurrying her along.

Thankfully, the bastards don’t cross the street to the park to follow them.

Instead, discouraged, they return to the front of the building.

They’ll have a long wait if they expect Sam to come out the front door, she thinks.

It’s a cool, blustery day, and there are few families in the playground.

Lizzie pushes Clara on the swings for a while, singing to her, then lifts her out and sits on a bench with her back to the condominium, and sends Clara off to play in the sandbox.

She’s watching Clara, lost in thought, when she becomes aware of someone sitting down beside her.

It startles her. She hadn’t seen anyone approach, hadn’t been paying attention.

It’s a woman with auburn hair. There are other, empty benches this woman could have chosen, Lizzie notices, annoyed. Lizzie almost gets up.

“Hi,” the other woman says, smiling. “I’m Alice.”

Lizzie isn’t sure what to make of her, but she seems friendly, not threatening, like the press. Ballsy, anyway. Is she sympathetic?

“Are you with the media?” Lizzie asks suspiciously.

“Oh no, I hate the media,” Alice says. “They’re crucifying my husband.”

“Who’s your husband?” Lizzie asks.

“Derek Gardner.”

Lizzie stares at her. This is a surprise. “Your husband was sleeping with my sister,” Lizzie says in a low voice.

“Probably,” Alice agrees.

“He probably killed her,” Lizzie hisses.

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Alice replies. “I think her husband killed her.”

“Well, I don’t.”

“Of course you don’t. We never want to believe the worst of those close to us, do we? But I think the detectives will find what they need to put her husband away.”

“What are you talking about?” Lizzie suspects she should grab Clara and go. But something makes her stay. “What are you doing here?” she asks uneasily.

“I wanted to meet you, and I want you to give Sam a message.”

Lizzie feels her stomach curdle. “What message?”

Alice leans in closer to her. “Tell him he’s not going to get away with it.”

Then she rises gracefully from the bench, leans down, and whispers, “ I’m Team Sam. ”

She walks away without looking back, leaving a trace of her perfume behind her.