Grown(61)

There’s video footage of Daddy outside our hotel in Charlotte.

Footage of Daddy kicking and screaming while Tony and his goons tossed him around like a rag doll in the hotel parking lot.

Footage of Daddy on the phone in the lobby of our Columbia hotel, calling about the suicide pact, hoping it would draw me outside.

Footage of Daddy outside Korey’s mansion, waiting for the police to do another welfare check.

The media has twisted it. They see Daddy stalking Korey . . . I see Daddy trying to save me this whole time.

Transcript with Terry Jones–May 26

Detective Arnold: I understand you’ve been unemployed the last five months.

Terry Jones: Not unemployed. Our union is on strike.

Detective Arnold: So you’ve had plenty of time to make trips down South.

T. Jones: Yeah. And I’d do it again. The man had my daughter.

Detective Arnold: Did it make you feel like less of a man that you couldn’t protect your daughter?

T. Jones: Really? That’s all you got?

Detective Arnold: OK. Tell us about what happened the night of the murder.

T. Jones: Front-door security turned me away. I told them my daughter was up there, but they wouldn’t let me in.

Detective Arnold: And that’s when you called the police?

T. Jones: Yeah. But they said there was nothing they could do since she’s eighteen. That’s when that woman came. Jessica or whoever.

Detective Arnold: So you’re saying you never went inside the apartment?

T. Jones: If only I was given the chance . . . I wouldn’t have killed him, but he’d be walking with a limp for the rest of his life.

Knocking

Fletcher: Hey! Sorry to interrupt but you better get down to the Marriott. Now!

Detective Arnold: What’s going on? We’re in the middle of questioning!

T. Jones: What’s wrong? Is Enchanted OK?

Fletcher: She was attacked.





Chapter 78


Press Conference




The entire ballroom of the Marriott Hotel in Times Square is full of reporters. Louie said there would be limited seating, but that rule has already been broken.

Louie and Mr. Pulley decided to set up a press conference to counter all the negative talk and stop rumors.

“Normally I wouldn’t suggest this,” Mr. Pulley says in our hotel room. “But I think it would help. Plus, we need other victims to corroborate your claim that he abused you. I typed up a statement. You’re going to remind them that you’re a student, active on the swim team, a Will and Willow sister, aspiring singer and songwriter. Remind them that you’re a victim as well.”

They think putting me in front of the camera, showing that I’m just a kid, will help produce some sympathy, garner understanding, and maybe even stop the death threats. The same woman keeps calling. I know I should tell Mom, but she may change my number again and . . . I’m still holding out hope that somehow, some way, Gab will call.

“It’s ridiculous to think Mr. Jones would set up his own daughter, the one he’s been trying to retrieve after months in captivity, for the murder of Mr. Fields,” Mr. Pulley says from the small podium on the platform stage. We stand on the sidelines, watching him address reporters. Behind me, Mom gives my shoulders a gentle squeeze.

“I’m going to let Enchanted speak in her own words about her time with Mr. Fields.”

I should be used to walking out onstage in front of a packed crowd, full of cameras and gawking eyes. But this time, there’s no warm applause. No cheering. In fact, the room drops in temperature. A collective breath holds.

“Um. Hello,” I mutter, gripping my printed speech.

No one responds. Utter silence, a room full of frozen statues. Except one person. A woman, moving closer to the stage. For a moment I’m confused, thinking she’s staff.

“You fucking bitch!”

She launches something in her hand toward the stage, toward me.

“ENCHANTED!” Mom screams before I duck. A brick flies over my head and crashes behind me. I pop up just as the woman reaches me, a knife in hand.

All the blood rushes to my feet as I scramble to flee but trip over the brick, landing on my knees, and she gives me one swift kick to my side.

“Fucking slut,” she barks.

My ribs flare. I’m going to die. Here, onstage, the only place I ever wanted to be. I close my eyes, bracing for the pain as feet scuffle around me, security rushing in.

“Enchanted!” Mom grabs me, leading me off the stage. “Baby, are you OK? Are you hurt?”

The room explodes into chaos, cameras clicking.

“I’ma kill you, you bitch! He never loved you, stupid Bright Eyes!”

Bright Eyes?

I whip around, her wild eyes locked on me as she’s carried out of the ballroom, screaming. She’s sickly thin, tall . . . with a wig similar to Melissa. Her voice is familiar, and it doesn’t take long to realize it’s the woman from the anonymous phone calls.

But . . . how did she know about Bright Eyes?

“Get her out of here now!” Louie screams from somewhere as we pour into the opposite hallway.

Bodies bump into me. Security. Panic. Mayhem. A blond woman in a uniform. She’s looking me in the eye. Is she trying to kill me too?

“What—”