Chapter Ten

Dinner was quiet and just a little bit tense as the two women were reacquainted under much different circumstances. Andy was a little hesitant to bring up anything remotely related to the assault, while Miranda was more than content just sitting in silence.

Almost immediately after dinner, Andy politely excused herself to take a shower and do a little bit more preparation for her interviews. She was nervous, especially since she was meeting with three prominent publications: The New York Times, The Wall Street Journal, and The Economist.

Just before midnight, Miranda turned out the lights in her study and made her way to her bedroom, stopping briefly outside the guest bedroom. A sliver of light was creeping out beneath the door, and she could hear the detective practicing some interview questions aloud. She quietly stepped away from the door, then headed downstairs and made a cup of decaffeinated peppermint tea to bring upstairs to her guest.

"Andrea?" she called quietly as she knocked on the door. There was no response, so she gently pushed the door open and peered inside. The young woman was standing in front of the full-length mirror with her eyes closed, reciting something. "Andrea," she repeated, knocking on the doorframe again.

"Oh! Sorry, was I keeping you up?" Andy asked apologetically.

"No, not at all," Miranda said. "I was just turning in and noticed your light was on, so I thought I would bring some tea to help you sleep."

"Miranda, I don't feel at all prepared for these interviews tomorrow," Andy said, sitting indian-style on the bed and accepting the cup of tea from the older woman.

"I'm sure you'll be fine. At this point, sleep is probably more important than anything else."

Andy took a few sips of the hot tea and shrugged.

"Can I help you prepare in any way?" Miranda asked. She hesitated a little with that offer; she wasn't ready to reveal the Dragon Lady side of her quite so soon.

Andy took another long sip of tea, then set the cup and saucer down on the nightstand. "I think I need your advice. I keep getting stuck on the 'Why are you leaving law enforcement' question, and I think it's just obvious that I'm not even convinced by my answer," she said.

"Do you mind?" Miranda said, pointing to the bed. Andy shook her head, and Miranda took a seat, tucking one of her legs underneath her. "I can tell you that from the perspective of a hiring manager, that question is important because it reveals your motivation—not just for the position to which you've applied, but also in a more general sense," Miranda explained. "I could tell you I want to leave my job at a department store and become an editor of a fashion magazine because I love fashion. It's true. But if I said I was leaving the department store because I possess this unquenchable thirst for change and newness, and that I want to be the one defining the trends, not selling them two years later, well, then you would know a little more about how my brain works, what type of person I am."

"Yep, that makes sense," Andy said. "It's just more difficult for me to put it into words."

"Well, you probably don't want to say that, considering your primary job function would be putting things into words."

Andy smiled and shook her head. "So I told you how I moved out to L.A. after Katie died, right?"

"Yes. You were finishing your degree at Cornell, and went to be with Dave and Alexis."

"Right. Well, it was a little more complicated than that. I had a job offer with the newspaper in Buffalo. Two weeks after graduation, I would have my own desk and my own local news assignments. It was what I had been working towards for the past four years. Then my mother called me one night and told me my sister was missing. She couldn't fly out to California because she was taking care of my grandpa, so I went, without question," she said. She leaned back against the headboard before continuing.

"They thought it might have been a kidnapping, but there was no ransom note or call. After the first week, they basically gave up and told us she probably ran away to start a new life. I knew my sister, and I knew she would never do that—not to her two-year-old daughter. I pressed the police for the next week, and that's when they found her body. The police seemed to have given up on the case, and the local newspaper published a story about a woman who was attacked and killed when all she wanted to do was escape her life. It made me sick that they could write those things about my sister, and that no one cared to find out what really happened. One of the detectives on the case told me that if I wanted to find the guy so bad, I should apply to the police academy and at least get paid for looking. So, that's what I did."

Miranda reached out her hand and gently set it on Andy's knee. "Oh, sweetheart, I'm so sorry. That sounds like an incredibly painful experience—I can see why you didn't want to talk about it before. Can I ask, did you ever find who did it?"

"We did," Andy said. "It took a few years, but he's in jail and he's never getting out. But getting back to my dilemma…"

"Oh, right. The interviews," Miranda said. "Why do you want to leave law enforcement and go back to journalism? Just between us?"

"I'm ready to move on. I've matured. I've been disillusioned. The news is filled with awful stories, and it's a reporter's job to report the facts, and not to extrapolate. And also, everyone in the LAPD knows me as the girl whose sister was murdered. They were all supportive when we finally did catch the guy—and that was great, don't get me wrong—but they still look at me with pity. I don't want to be that person anymore. I don't want Katie's death to define me."

Miranda reached out and took Andy's hand. "Tomorrow, I think you need to tell them what you just told me. Not all the details, but enough that they get the point. That is powerful, my dear. Thank you for sharing that with me."

"I've never even told it to anyone—not like that," she said, wrapping her arms around herself.

Miranda stood from the bed and lifted the covers for Andy to crawl underneath. "You're shivering," she said as she retrieved an extra quilt from the hope chest at the end of the bed. "Try and get some rest tonight, okay? I'm sure tomorrow will go well. Do you need me to wake you? Roy will give you a ride wherever you need to go."

Andy tucked the covers under her chin. "No, I've got my alarm set. My first interview is at 9:30, so I'll leave around 8:45 if that's okay."

"Yes, of course. I'll give you a spare key, too, just in case. I'll let Roy know the plan, and then I guess I'll see you in the morning. Also, help yourself to anything you need here. My home is your home."

"Thanks, I appreciate it. You know what? This was just like one of our phone calls, but in person," Andy said with a smile.

"So it was."

"Goodnight, Miranda."

"Goodnight, Andrea," she said, turning out the light and exiting the room.

TBC