The Entirely Fabricated Story of Lizzie Nickerson

Chapter 59

It was just after lunch on Sunday when the buzzer rang.

Sonya approached the intercom warily. "Hello?"

A woman's sugary voice said, "Sonya Finch?"

"Yes."

"Hiya. I'm Heather Rogers. WCPO News." She adopted the tone of voice you'd expect to hear from someone trying to coax a kitten out from under a sofa.

Sonya looked at Lizzie, who was eating her apple slices. Lizzie got up from the kitchen table and went to the window in her room.

"Please. Ms. Finch?"

Sonya didn't respond.

"I'd like to come up and ask you a few questions... Z'at Okay?"

Lizzie hollered from her room, "Oh, geez. There's a news truck out there."

"I'm not interested," said Sonya tersely. "Please don't bother to come back."

"This'll only take a few minutes of your time," said Heather Rogers. "Promise."

It was a brief conversation but Sonya had had enough. Enough of the condescending voice, enough of the 'I-don't-take-no-for-an-answer' attitude, enough of the hollowness and lack of common decency.

"I have nothing more to say," said Sonya. "Don't come back."

Heather buzzed a few more times and when Sonya failed to respond, Heather buzzed Ms. Margery Brennan, the first-floor neighbor, who said, "We've just been through a tragic experience. I don't want to talk about it. Especially not to the news."

"Can you tell me anything about the tragic experience?"

"It was unnerving," she said.

"Unnerving." Heather Rogers was hooked. "Okay. Can I quote you on that?"

"No, you may not. Please respect people's privacy."

Lizzie watched the WCPO News van idle out on the street for about twenty minutes, drive away, and then circle the block about an hour later. She looked up when Sonya entered. "They're gone," she said.

"Good," Sonya replied. "Remember, Lizzie. Remember what Detective Stoudemire said. Don't talk about what happened. Not with anyone. Not ever."

"What about a text?"

"A text?"

"I texted Scooter."

"What did you say?"

"I said that I accidentally killed the creepy guy from his grandfather's apartment."

Sonya went pale, her voice squeaked out of her throat. "Why did you do that?"

"Oh, geez. He told me all the things he's been doing. Like camping with his friends, going to some Guggenheim Space Engineering school with his mom, learning how to drive a car,  and then he asked me what I've been doing."

"Lizzie, you shouldn't have told him that."

"It kind of just slipped out."

"You can't let it slip out. Not to anyone. Not ever. Promise me."

"Oh, geez. Okay, I promise. I don't think he believed me anyway."

"You don't?"

Lizzie showed her phone to her aunt. Scooter had replied to Lizzie's text with four crying laughing emojis.

"If he ever asks you about that," said Sonya, "Well, we'll need to talk about it and figure it out. But for right now, you can't say anything about it. Detective Stoudemire could get in big trouble if you go into all the details. I could get into big trouble. You, too. So just don't talk about it. Okay?"