Will Graham made for an interesting
subject, Freddie thought. Luckily for her, her readers agreed. She’d have gone
where the clicks were regardless; a girl’s got to eat, after all. But it helped
writing about something—or someone—she actually liked. And despite her constant
antagonism, she 𝘥𝘪𝘥 like him. She wouldn’t go so far “for a story”
otherwise.
𝘍𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺, she’d followed him to therapy
and tried to record his session. Dr. Lecter was, however, oddly protective of
his patient and had made her delete the recording while scolding her and making
her feel like a misbehaving schoolchild.
Get real. She was never 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 kind of
naughty schoolgirl.
𝘍𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺, she’d had a friend who
happened to be a real estate agent make her a copy of the key to Will’s house.
Actually, Louis himself had once been the subject of Freddie’s poison pen. He
was originally from Beverly Hills but had moved to Baltimore after getting off on
grisly murder charges… twice. But that was a whole nother story, although he 𝘩𝘢𝘥 broken into his first lawyer’s home to subtly threaten him. His threats to
Freddie herself had been somewhat less subtle, so maybe “friend” was an
overstatement, but she was an opportunist.
𝘍𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺—no, actually, she never
published the pictures she’d taken of Will fresh out of the shower. Those were
just for her. He’d confronted her about taking them at all, of course, and she’d
seized the opportunity to interview him for a Day in the Life article.
And 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺, she was once again
following him to his therapy appointment. This time, though, there was someone in
a red-and-black-striped, red-stitched jacket with a black hood, leaning against
a stair-divide. The stranger looked up with kohl-lined, startlingly teal eyes as
he sensed her presence. He looked like he could be Louis’s kid brother, but
more importantly, he looked to be on at least somewhat friendly terms with
Will. They exchanged fist-bumps and he offered Will a clove cigarette. Freddie
took out her camera to capture the moment. Through the viewfinder, she saw Will
stumble slightly, grabbing his head. The boy steadied him, kept him from
falling down the stairs. Then…
Freddie couldn’t believe what she saw next.
It must be a trick of the light, she told herself. The stranger had cupped Will’s
cheek, and Freddie blinked rapidly to dispel the hallucination of a white light
seeming to surround his hand, spreading over Will’s cheek and around his head. Freddie
pressed the shutter once, twice, three times, just in case it wasn’t a
hallucination after all.
Just as she was putting her camera away, a
muscular man with a light blue turtleneck tucked into jeans bounded down the
steps. He greeted Will with recognition and a manic grin, then allowed the boy
to press a hand to his lower back and gently lead him away.
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