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“CNN,” she repeats. “Turn it on.”
“Okay, hang on…” I swing my legs to the side of the bed, and with the phone still on my ear, I walk into the living room. I look around for the remote, then snatch it up, pointing it at the screen. I scroll through the channels and stop as I land onCNN. As the screen fills with the newscaster, I hear Jess again.
“Have you got it on?”
“Yes, but what am I looking—” I stop mid-sentence, gasping as I see why she wanted me to turn on the television.
“Hallie, are you okay?” Jess asks, the worry evident in her voice. “Hallie,” she repeats a few seconds later when I don’t answer.
“She’s dead,” I whisper as I sit down heavily on the sofa, my legs giving way. A wave of nausea washes over me, and a cold sweat breaks out on the back of my neck. I recoil as images of Amanda fill the screen in front of me. Words are scrolling across the bottom, and I read them aloud, even though Jess is watching on the other end of the phone.
“The body of Amanda Bryant was found today in her cell at Iowa Correctional Facility. She was serving a life sentence for her involvement in the murders of five young girls and the abduction of thirteen-year-old Hallie Anderson just over ten years ago. Bryant and her husband were arrested after Hallie, who was kidnapped from Savannah in 2009, escaped. Following the arrest, a search of their property in Cedar Falls, Iowa, uncovered the bodies of five more girls buried in shallow graves in the woodlands surrounding the house. It’s not yet known if her husband, Matthew Bryant, will be granted leave from Anamosa State Penitentiary, where he’s serving five life sentences, to attend her funeral.”
“You don’t think they’ll actually let him out, do you?” I stand then pace the small space in my living room. “They can’t,” I whisper before Jess has a chance to reply.
“Hallie, listen to me… he’s not getting out. Even if they let him attend the funeral, he’ll be restrained. You’re safe.” I can hear what she’s saying, but somehow, the words don’t penetrate the fog that’s descended in my mind.
“They’ve told everyone my name,” I mumble as I absentmindedly walk around the living room.
“It’ll be okay, Hal.” The intercom buzzes, but I barely hear it, my eyes fixed on the television. It sounds again a few seconds later, and I’m pulled from my haze. Realizing Jess is still on the line, I pull the phone back and check the call hasn’t dropped.
“I’ve got to go. Someone’s at the door,” I mutter as I tear my eyes off the television and head for the intercom phone.
“I’ll call you later.”
I nod, even though she can’t see me, and end the call.
“Hello,” I say shakily as I pick up the intercom phone.
“Hallie, it’s Mom.” I can hear the concern in her voice, and I know she’s seen the news.
“Come on up,” I whisper, pushing the button to release the door.
Slipping into my bedroom, I throw on some yoga pants and a tank before tying my hair up. I’m in the kitchen getting a bottle of water from the refrigerator when a knock sounds on my apartment door. Even though I’ve buzzed my mom up, I use the peephole to see who’s outside the door. Breathing a sigh of relief, I swing the door open, my mom immediately pulling me into her arms.
“Hallie,” she whispers, holding me tightly. Looking over her shoulder, my dad gives me a small smile. Standing behind him are two men in suits.
Frowning, I pull out of the embrace. “Mom?” I ask, looking past my dad to the strangers in the hallway.
She sighs as she turns around. “Hallie, this is Detective Wilmot and Lieutenant Phillips. They’re here to talk to you.”
“Good morning, ma’am,” Detective Wilmot says. He’s a little older than my dad, with a kind face and salt-and-pepper hair. The officer with him is younger, maybe early thirties. The fact they’re here can’t be good, and I wonder what they need to talk to me about.
Pulling myself together, I step aside. “Come in,” I tell them, gesturing to the open door with my hand. I wait until they’re inside my apartment before taking a deep breath and following them. My stomach churns with nerves as I cross the room and sit next to my mom on the sofa.
I thought this was all behind me.
That Matt and Amanda no longer had control over my life.
It seems I was wrong.
“Miss Anderson—” Detective Wilmot begins.
“Call me Hallie, please,” I interrupt.
He smiles kindly and sits on the footstool across from the sofa. “Hallie, I know by now you will have seen the news.” His eyes flick to the television still on theCNNnews channel, the story of Amanda’s death playing on a loop. Picking up the remote next to me, I turn it off. “We put a ban on the stations broadcasting the news, but it was leaked. We wanted you to hear it from us.”
I shrug, my fingers playing with the hem of my top. “What difference does it make? It doesn’t change anything.” My eyes stay on my fingers as I fight back tears. She’s dead. I only wish Matt was dead too.
