Chapter 17: The Chapel Video

I leaned across Declan and pressed the intercom button with one finger.

"Not in my kitchen, Camille," I said. "Tomorrow, ten o'clock, the riverfront site. Bring every camera you own."

There was a short, delighted pause.

"Oh, wonderful. Is there anything I should wear?"

"A hard hat."

I let go of the button, and Declan stared at me with his shirt hanging open.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Making sure she doesn't pick the room."

I called Bea from the bathroom, with the door shut and my pulse still going.

She picked up on the first ring and said, "Tell me what you need."

"The chapel in Reno," I said. "They sell the full tape. I need all of it."

"All of what?"

"Everything Camille cut."

By ten the next morning, forty reporters stood in the mud at the foot of the half-built tower.

Camille had brought a cameraman, a producer, and a pale blue cashmere coat that was never going to survive the site.

She hugged me with great tenderness.

"You're brave to do this," she whispered in my ear. "I know how hard it must be, to have it all out in the open."

"It's a relief," I said. "I hate secrets."

The crew stood in a line behind me, in vests, with their arms folded.

Bea had hooked a projector to the side of the site trailer, and the white wall of it glowed in the grey light.

Declan stood at the back with his hands in his pockets.

I had told him to stay there, and for once he listened.

I walked up to the little podium with my sling and the dented hard hat under my good arm.

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