Page 98 of Totally Shipped
Maddie is back on screen. “And even more interestingly, when I asked her about the death of Harvey Bannister, this is what she said.
“It was terrible. I can’t talk about it,” comes Daisy’s voice.
“We all want to know what that means. Why can’t Brooke Jackson talk about Harvey’s death? Did something untoward happen? Why won’t she share any details? Rumors have been flying ever since she was rescued, and we the public demand to know the truth.”
Then a photo of Harvey, with the date of his birth and a question mark for the date of his death is put on screen, then the NBC TV crew are back.
“That interview certainly leaves more questions than it gives answers, don't you agree, Sky?” the male newscaster says.
The blonde trills back. “It sure does Pete. Was Harvey the father of the baby? Or is it one of the many male crew members? What happened on that island, and how did Harvey die? Seems like Brooke is keeping her pretty lips tightly closed.”
“Good grief!” Daisy cries. “What are they trying to say?”
I grab the remote and turn it off. The press coverage after Buckletop was excruciating.
“The press are going to be a fucking pain in the ass, Daisy. There’s no way around it. It’s gonna get crazy for a while, but then they’ll move on to the next big story.”
Daisy leans into me. “They’re going to find out I’m not Brooke, and then our whole story is going to be scrutinized. What if they find out about Harvey…”
“Babe, I don’t know what your sister is planning, but she’s the one we need to speak to. Until then, we’ll just keep our heads low and try not to panic.
???
Arriving back in the USA is fucking terrible.
We fly to Hawaii, then Dallas, and finally to St. Louis.
STL was a nightmare—a heaving mass of paparazzi. Reporters were chasing us through the terminal, even though Malcolm had met us there with a couple of private security guards.
“Brooke, Brooke over here...”
“... Brooke...what happened to Harvey?”
“Action Jackson...who’s the daddy?”
“... Leander Westhall…any comment?”
“Mr. Malone...exclusive... ten thousand...”
“Keyara...photo shoot...”
That was too much. I pushed my way into the crowd of press and pulled the dude yelling at Keyara up onto his toes. My fist bunched his shirt, and my other fist just bunched.
“Shout at her again, and you’ll regret it. And you leave the kid alone, got it?”
Malcolm had got us a hotel in St. Louis, but we declined and just went straight to rent a vehicle. The two things we were concentrating on were reuniting Key with her parents and getting Rex to the hospital to see Meemaw—before it was too late.
GRAY
When we finally get to Overlook Bluff, all of us are shattered.
We are at the modest family home of Rex’s grandparents. All six of us, plus Thea. Less than a week from rescue to being here.
Not too shabby.
Unlike this little house. The white clapboard and blue shutters are faded and peeling. The picket fence has half come down and the front yard is a mess of weeds. It’s down a narrow road that is not maintained by the city.
The mailbox has dents and a couple of bullet holes in it. Me and Rex put them there when we snuck out his grandpa's gun. That did not go down well, let me tell you.
