Free Shoot from the Lip by Leann Sweeney

to, since she was in a better mood than Mayo.
    But he answered anyway. “Yes. I’m an executive producer. And though I am very upset and disappointed about what happened today, Paul will do an ... excellent job. I’m turning Emma over to his very capable hands.”
    Emma bolted upright. “You’re disappointed? Is that because a child died or because you lost your stupid program? But wait, no need to answer. And by the way, I’m not being turned over to anyone. I’m not your slave.”
    I rested a hand on Emma’s knee and looked at her. “We need to get something to eat and talk this over.”
    “If you’re thinking about ducking out on—” Mayo started.
    “Shut up,” I said.
    Then Emma and I hurried out of that trailer before I kissed jerk extraordinaire Mayo in his eyeteeth with my fist.
     
    Emma and I left in our own cars and met up at Houston‘s, a restaurant on Westheimer. It was early enough, a little past five o’clock, that the place wasn’t crowded. We each ordered a very frosty, large margarita. Nothing better than Cuervo Gold to take the sting off a horrific day. After a few sips of her drink, I think Emma exhaled for the first time in hours.
    Neither of us needed the menu. We both chose the best Caesar salads on the planet, then Emma said, “What can I expect to happen now?”
    “For one thing, investigators will be crawling all over Houston. I’d be willing to bet the Chronicle will run a big piece in the newspaper. That means I need to research your father and your mother before they do. Is that okay?”
    “My father? But he’s been dead for twenty-three years. What could—”
    “That might be one of the first places the Crime Time investigators and even other reporters will start. Do you know how much research they did on your father for Reality Check?”
    “They knew he was a marine and died in Beirut. The researcher copied his photo and said they’d probably use it during the show’s intro, sort of give my background through old photographs.”
    “That part may not change, but Crime Time is a who-what-why-when-where program. Rather than an entertainment approach, you’ll be subjected to a harder news angle. Ever watch 48 Hours Mystery?”
    Emma nodded. “Once or twice.”
    “Expect that kind of production. They dig deep, probably tape hours and hours of footage and edit extensively. You may not know until the show airs how you’ll be portrayed.”
    “What does that mean?” Emma rubbed salt off the rim of her glass, licked her finger and took a drink.
    “If the mystery remains unsolved, you may end up looking like a suspect. They’re real proficient at innuendo.”
    “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Emma said, eyes wide.
    “Or you could be portrayed as the victim, a child left to raise three other children, a child who went through hell, only to learn the sister she’d helped bring into the world was gone before she had a chance to live.”
    Emma looked left and right at the customers surrounding us before leaning close and whispering, “I’m no victim, and I’m no killer.”
    “I know that. Now you have to convince Paul Kravitz.” I nodded, offering her a small, determined smile.
    She exhaled, relaxed again. “I can do that. Besides, anything has to be better than dealing with Mayo. As for my father, I haven’t been completely honest with you. My father, well ... he had a family. He was ... married.”
    I sat back against the leather booth. “Uh-oh. How do you know this?”
    “Because I went looking for any extended family I might have about three years ago. I got as far as his obituary.”
    “And a wife was listed as next of kin?”
    She nodded. “Figures my mother would shack up with a married man and then feed me all those stories about how much he loved her and how much he wanted to see me and never got the chance. I wanted to believe that fairy tale, and that’s why I didn’t tell you. I’m sorry, Abby.”
    “Don’t be sorry. Do you want me to talk to