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aren’t above these kinds of tactics. Or just someone looking for a bit of fame or money. It’s really sad what desperate, selfish people will do.”

Mindy nodded again. Elizabeth felt a twinge of anger on Robin’s behalf. The actress was so convincing, and beside her Bruce looked like a battered puppy dog. Who really was the victim here, anyway?

“Honestly, I just wish I knew who my accuser was,” Bruce said. “I frankly just feel blindsided.”

Yeah, like Robin felt when you tore her clothes… The thought jumped into Elizabeth’s mind before she could stop it. Is that what she thought? Did she really think Bruce was capable of violently attacking a woman? She thought not, and yet the evidence was stacking up against him. Elizabeth always prided herself on basing her opinions on facts. That’s what made her a good reporter.

Of course, on the public front, more people came to Bruce’s side every day. Jessica’s PR offensive was paying off.

“The woman who did this? She’s just despicable,” Christina said.

The interview ended there, and Christina gave Bruce a quick hug before she darted offstage. Mindy walked back to her news anchor desk, and Bruce sauntered over to Elizabeth, a look of relief on his face.

“How’d I do?” he asked her.

“Um…good.” Elizabeth tucked a strand of blond hair behind one ear. She shifted uncomfortably on her feet and tried to look anywhere but at him. She felt he’d be able to read the suspicion on her face.

“What’s wrong? Did you think Christina overdid it? I’ve known her forever and I know she has strong opinions.”

“No, she was good. It was all good. Really.”

Bruce studied her face a moment. “Well, she was good, but you would’ve been better.”

Elizabeth couldn’t quite meet Bruce’s eye. “You know I don’t like to be on camera. That’s why I’m in newspapers, not TV.”

The two of them walked together outside the studio to Bruce’s waiting car.

“Yes, but you know me better than anyone,” he said as he paused by the door.

“I’m sure Christina won you more fans than I ever could.” Elizabeth sent him a weak smile.

“Something is still bothering you.” It was a statement of fact, not a question. Suspicion lurked in Bruce’s eyes.

Elizabeth sighed. “I just don’t understand how food poisoning could’ve made you dizzy.”

“This again?” Bruce’s voice rose a little bit. “Elizabeth. Don’t you trust me? I mean, it sounds like you’re doubting me.”

“No, no—of course not.” Elizabeth put her hand on his arm. “I trust you, Bruce. I believe you.”

Relief fell across his face, and Elizabeth felt guilty. All he wanted was her support. Why couldn’t she just give it to him—no questions asked?

Bruce folded her into his arms for a hug and Elizabeth went, but stiffly. She couldn’t quite relax with his arms around her. The reporter in her would never stop asking questions. That’s just who she was.

“Elizabeth…” Bruce said, and in that moment she knew he could feel her discomfort, too. Elizabeth had never been a good actress. She stepped away from his embrace.

“I’m sorry, Bruce. This whole thing…I’m just so upset…for you. For both of us. It’s just so much to handle and I want to help you, but I feel so powerless about everything.”

That part was the truth. She felt powerless to protect Bruce…if it turned out he was really guilty.

“If we could only find out who this girl is, then I’m sure we could get to the bottom of it,” Bruce said. “Have you found any new leads?”

Elizabeth cleared her throat. “No, and that’s partly why I’m so frustrated. I’m going to work on it today.” The lie came so easily. Since when had she become so good at lying? Elizabeth never used to lie, hardly even white lies. Yet ever since these allegations had surfaced, she’d turned into a habitual liar. Lies, she realized, were more addictive than potato chips. She started with one and had to keep going with another, and another, and another. She wondered if she’d ever be able to stop.

“I’m going to work on it today,” Elizabeth promised.

“Okay,” Bruce said, but a sliver of doubt remained in his eyes.

During the car ride home, both were silent, lost in their own thoughts.

Chapter Twelve

Elizabeth asked Bruce to drop her off at her car, parked at the newspaper’s lot. She promised him she would do more digging on his case. That, for a change, wasn’t a lie. She needed to find out more about Robin. After speaking with the girl, she’d gotten more details about her work history before she was hired at the Patman Foundation. Pretending to be Laura Christer, the concerned therapist, she’d gotten Robin to talk about when she’d moved to L.A. two years ago.

Born and raised in small-town Kentucky, Robin had moved to Los Angeles in hopes of working in films. She’d been a creative artist-type back home and decided she wanted to use her talents in film. She wasn’t sure how, though. Creating PR posters, perhaps, or even working on art direction. She came without a definite plan and just hoped everything would work out—like so many hopeful people who flooded L.A. every year.

Robin’s first job had been as a nanny to a family in Malibu with two girls, ages five and three. Elizabeth hadn’t had any luck tracking them down yet, since they’d moved to Italy, but she did have a reference letter that Robin showed her, sent via e-mail. It seemed to check out.

After that, Robin got a job working for Filmart as a secretary. Robin said she’d hoped to just get her foot in the door at a production studio, even if it was just answering phones.

Elizabeth drove to Burbank, where Filmart Studios rented their offices. She formed her cover story as she went. The last thing she planned to do was introduce herself as a reporter from the L.A. Tribune investigating the Bruce Patman scandal. Instead, she just made up another story: She was thinking about hiring Robin for a freelance job

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