All She Ever Wanted - Barbara Freethy [79]
"Do you know anything about a journal that Emily might have kept at school?" Cole asked.
"I don't, but your mother might. Is it important?"
"It could be."
"I'll talk to her about it when she's feeling more calm." His sharp eyes narrowed. "Is the journal where Malone got his information?"
"It's possible. I went through Emily's closet yesterday to see if I could find it in the boxes of her things that we brought back from Santa Cruz, but there was nothing there." He paused, seeing his mother once again look at them with concern. "You better go. Take care of Mom. I'll handle this problem."
"Don't let me down, Cole. More important, don't let your sister down."
As Cole watched his parents drive off, he knew that he'd already let his sister down once, and he wouldn't do it again. He'd find out the truth about Emily's death once and for all. And he wouldn't stop until he did. But first he had to warn Natalie that his parents were home, and his father wanted someone's head on a platter, preferably hers.
* * *
When Natalie returned to her apartment just before two o'clock, she saw several reporters and cameras in front of her building. She parked down the street and walked tentatively toward her home, wondering with each step if it wouldn't be better to retreat. But she couldn't stay away forever. She'd have to go past them sometime.
A woman saw her, called out her name, and suddenly the group swarmed toward her, firing questions like bullets from a gun. There was a camera this time and a man holding a microphone. Good Lord! Was this going on television?
Her head spun. She couldn't hear the questions. They were one big blur of glaring, accusatory noise. Words jumped out at her—murderer, crime, victim, tragedy, Emily, best friends, Fabulous Four, followed by why, why, and why.
"Natalie." His voice rang through the air loud and clear like a foghorn leading a floundering ship home. She searched the crowd for him. And there he was.
Cole barreled his way through the reporters, grabbed her hand, and pulled her down the sidewalk. They sprinted toward his car, the reporters following close behind. Thankfully, Cole managed to pull away from the curb without hitting anyone, which Natalie considered a minor miracle. For long moments they didn't say a word. She felt like she'd just run a marathon. She couldn't catch her breath. Her heart pounded against her chest.
"Okay?" Cole asked.
She shook her head. He put a hand on her knee. "It's going to be okay."
She shook her head again. It wasn't going to be okay. Everyone thought she was a murderer—a criminal—a horrible, horrible person. The worst thing was that she couldn't even deny the crime with one hundred percent certainty. She had no facts, only a belief in herself.
"Trust me," he said.
God, she wanted to. She wanted to trust him more than anything. "Why were you at my apartment?"
"I thought you might run into trouble with the press."
"It's like feeding time at the zoo. How long is this going to last?"
"Hopefully no more than fifteen minutes."
"It's already been longer than that." She frowned, realizing that this type of event was part of Cole's daily life. "Did one of those reporters belong to your paper?"
He sent her an apologetic glance. "Yes."
"You're covering this story in the Tribune? How can you do that, Cole?"
"I don't have a choice."
"I see." She stared straight ahead for a long moment, computing the facts. "What are you saying about me?"
"The article is about Emily, my family, and the book. It's short and to the point."
It was a nice explanation, but she wasn't buying it. She turned back to look at him and saw him avoid her gaze. "Come on, Cole. I'm the most interesting part of the story, the beloved sorority sister turned killer. That's why the reporters are hounding me. The fact that I'm now a doctor makes it even better. You know, I was asked to take a leave of absence today. My boss told me to fix this quick. Please tell me you have some good news."
Cole pulled over to the side of the road