Was she kidding? “The biggest,” Pandy said, annoyed. “You could say that I know every sentence and each line by heart.”
“Is that so?” the woman asked.
“Actually, yes,” Pandy said. She dropped her cigarette, grinding out the butt beneath her construction boot. “Because the fact of the matter is that I am PJ Wallis—”
“Hellenor?”
Pandy turned to find Judy coming down the drive.
Judy touched her arm. “Listen. Would you mind doing one thing? Can you walk to the place where PJ Wallis blew up?”
Pandy squinted down the drive. The whole squad of paparazzi had moved down to where the boathouse had been. This really was too much. It was one thing for her publisher to think she was dead for a couple of hours, but quite a different matter to announce it to the world.
“Now, listen, Judy,” Pandy said firmly.
“I know, I know,” Judy said quickly. “You’re not happy about all this press. But neither is SondraBeth. She wanted this to be private. She was hoping you and she could have a long visit. Reminisce about Pandy. Talk about the old days and the future of Monica. Maybe even plan a special memorial. But then the studio got word, and the press, and now PJ’s death is out of control—”
Pandy cleared her throat. “Judy,” she tried again. “PJ Wallis isn’t dead. There’s been a huge mistake and I’m PJ Wallis.”
“Oh, I get it,” Judy said with a knowing laugh. In the husky tones of a former college party girl, she added, “Like what you did back there with the reporters? That was hilarious, fucking with their heads like that.” Judy raised her palm to give Pandy a high five. “You, Hellenor, are fucking crazy. I’m so glad you’re cool. It makes everyone’s job so much easier.”
She tapped her earpiece and nodded once, then took Pandy’s arm and began leading her firmly down the hill.
Where the hell is Henry? Pandy thought angrily as Judy pushed through the paparazzi that were circled around SondraBeth like pagan priests around a sacrificial lamb.
She was standing on a patch of grass near what was left of the structure: a few charred pieces of wood scattered around a large rectangular patch of mud. The piece of fabric Pandy had seen SondraBeth holding earlier was now covering her body like a shroud. She jerked her arm back to take Pandy’s hand.
Pandy looked around at the camera lenses aimed in her direction like faceless black eyes and decided she’d better go along with the charade. She tore her eyes away from the cameras and looked at SondraBeth instead.
SondraBeth was staring at her with those shining green-gold eyes. And suddenly, Pandy realized this was going to be just like that time on the island when Pandy had caught SondraBeth in the marsh with the herons. She was going to do what she needed to do, and she was going to act like nobody else was there.
SondraBeth dipped her head. She pulled Pandy forward a step or two into the mud. Hissing under her breath, she said, “Your sister meant everything to me, Hellenor. The two of us used to be best friends. The best friends two girls could ever be.” She paused and looked Pandy straight in the eye. “And now I’m hoping we can be friends, too.”
Pandy stared back. Was it possible SondraBeth honestly didn’t know she was Pandy? Pandy decided to try to give SondraBeth a message back:
“I think that can be arranged,” she said, with a meaningful nod.
SondraBeth gave Pandy’s hand a quick squeeze before she dropped it and strode, silent and alone, through the mud to the center of the rectangle where the boathouse had been. She raised her arms, and suddenly, the flashes stopped. The crowd held their collective breath, as if wondering what she might do next.
Into the silence came the lone caw of a crow.
SondraBeth lay down on her back. She extended her arms and, sweeping them up and down, made angel wings. Then she rolled forward onto her knees, and with her head bowed, slowly stood up. She turned around and began walking back toward the driveway. As she walked, she peeled the fabric from her body, carefully folding the muddy material in her hands.
Reaching the grass, she stopped for a moment to allow her people to catch up with her.
“Did you know she was going to do that?” Pandy heard someone whisper as they hurried toward SondraBeth.
“No,” someone else whispered back.
SondraBeth turned her head and looked back at Pandy. And then, as if making a sudden decision, she walked toward her.
“Come with me,” she said. Her voice was quiet and splintery.
She disappeared into her swirl of assistants, and suddenly Judy was by Pandy’s side. She touched Pandy’s arm in a friendly girl-to-girl manner. “We’ve just heard from PP. He wants you to come back to New York with SondraBeth. He wants to meet you.”
Judy began drawing Pandy along with her, nodding her head and smiling conspiratorially. “You’ll stay in the basement guest room in SondraBeth’s townhouse. It’s fantastic; it has its own separate entrance.”
And the next thing Pandy knew, the bodyguards had surrounded her, and she was being bundled into the back of an SUV. I need to call Henry! she thought wildly as the doors slammed shut and the car started forward with a jerk. As Wallis House disappeared around the mountain, she had a startling thought:
She had just been kidnapped by her own creation.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
A GOOD OLD New York City pothole woke her up.
She bounced and hit the back of the seat. Once again, it felt like her head was on fire.
It wasn’t, but the place where she had hit her head two nights before, when she had fallen off the couch during the party in her apartment, was suddenly reinflamed.
That had happened on Wednesday. Was it a mere forty-eight hours ago when she was still innocent? When she was still happy?
When she was still PJ Wallis?
“Hellenor, are you awake?” Judy asked. She was seated in the row ahead. She turned and looked at Pandy across the top of the seat.
The lump on the back of Pandy’s head throbbed. She winced. Pain. Good, sharp, come-to-your-senses pain. There was nothing like it in an emergency.
“Yes,” she answered, through gritted teeth.
“Would you like some water?” Judy asked.
When Pandy nodded, Judy motioned to someone in the second row to hand her a bottle. Of course. Everyone was trying to be nice. Trying to make poor, bereaved, weird Hellenor feel better.
If only people had treated Hellenor like that before.
Pandy grabbed the bottle of water and drank thirstily.
“Hey, I’ve got good news for you,” Judy said. “Your sister’s first Monica book is number one on Amazon’s bestseller list.”
“Is it?” Pandy asked. She rubbed the back of her head, and nearly screamed when she felt only the slightest stubble. Its texture was like velvet. It would take years for her hair to grow back.
“I think that would have made your sister so happy. Don’t you?”
Pandy took a deep breath. “Would you mind if I used your phone?”
“Of course not,” Judy said. “Please, call anyone you like. But if it beeps, will you hand it right back to me? Because it could be SondraBeth.”
Pandy nodded. She touched Henry’s number on the keypad, but it went right to voice mail. Of course. Henry wasn’t going to answer his phone, especially from an unknown number. She groaned. He must have arrived in Wallis by now. Looking out the window, she spotted those outlying brown brick buildings in the marshes of the Bronx.
Judy’s phone began singing: an aria. “It’s SondraBeth,” Judy said, holding out her hand for the device.