Page 84 of The Making of Marnie Jones

“Only Olivia can answer that question, and she isn’t in a position to do so. I ask you to respect her need for privacy. I ask the same for me.” She clenched her hand. “I want to go back to my old life. Elizabeth Smart, Jaycee Dugard, the three women in Cleveland—their requests for privacy have, mostly, been respected. At various times some of them have spoken out as victim’s advocates, but that was by their own choice. There may come a day when Olivia might be capable of contributing to the punditry, but today is not that day. Look, I realize why we're such oddities. Most abducted kids, like Olivia, are taken by either a family member or someone known to the family. Abductions by absolute strangers, like mine, are rare, and rarely end well. They’re terrifying because there’s no rhyme or reason to them. It might happen at any time, even if the odds are overwhelmingly against it. What hurts the most is that parents whose children have been taken see me and feel hope.”

“Why is that wrong?”

Damn. She’d prepared for this, but it didn’t make it any easier. “Because, statistically speaking, there’s a good chance their children are probably dead.”

“Are you saying this because of your own father's actions? Having you declared dead?”

“He had his reasons.” She conceded this point cautiously. “He believed I’d been kidnapped and died during the attempt. When no ransom arrived, he believed me dead.”

“Are you saying you understand his actions?”

“I'm saying I accept why he gave up hope and I no longer feel animosity toward him.” And she didn’t. His willingness to open his home to her without hesitation after four long years was a testament to his character. Whether he did it out of familial responsibility or something more, she wasn’t willing to speculate.

Jessica seemed to accept her answer. “Where do you go from here?”

“In a perfect world?” She didn’t wait for a reply. “I wish that people leave Olivia Bater alone. That I be left to live my life in peace.”

“Those aren't unrealistic wishes.”

She gave the reporter a small smile. “I ask for people's respect. I believe they comprehend our need for privacy.”

“Thank you.” Jessica inclined her head.

“Thank you.”

Now, to see if this worked.

***

Marnie stared down her father in an unexpected confrontation. He’d taken the unprecedented move to leave work early, came home, and summoned his daughter to his den.

“You should’ve consulted with me.”

Don’t back down. “I'm not a child, Father. I'm a twenty-four-year-old woman, and I did what I believed best. Best for me and best for Olivia.”

“Well, while you are under my roof, you will follow my rules.”

“Rules?” She was thunderstruck. “It's not like I deliberately set out to damage your reputation.” Panic rose and her palms became clammy. “Please don't punish Olivia for any perceived wrongdoing on my behalf.”

His brows knitted in consternation. “Speaking of Olivia, what right did you have to offer her a place in my home? Without even consulting me?”

To this, she had an answer. “She won't be living in your home. She will be staying with Mrs. Grant.”

“In an apartment in my house.” He shifted uncomfortably. “Mrs. Grant threatened to quit if I sent the girl packing. I don't like this upheaval in my home.”

“I never intended to cause you disruption. We needed somewhere safe to go.” This was always her fallback position because above all else, her father’d want her safe. Wouldn’t do to have the wayward child being put into danger again.

He sliced his hand through the air. “Well, I suppose you were right in coming here, but I wish you had let my public relations people handle this. I pay them good money to take care of problems like this.”

“I'm not a problem, I'm your daughter.” It surprised her that she found the courage to stand up to her father, but the interview this afternoon galvanized her. She needed to deal with the people in her life, including Martin Derks and Jake McGrath. This was the first step.

Martin closed his eyes. “I love you.” His face was an implacable mask, but a small crack in that façade appeared. “My declaring you dead was my way to deal with my unending grief. I believed if I put you behind me, somehow, I could move forward. But, like your mother's death, your disappearance ate away at me. The greatest day of my life was the day you came home. I'm sorry if that was ever in doubt for you.”

Her eyes prickled, but she quickly suppressed the odd feeling. “I never knew you felt this way.”

“Well, I did. I still do. I may not be a demonstrative man, but I love you.”

“I love you too.”

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