Long Live the Queen by Ellen Emerson White

Author:Ellen Emerson White
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Feiwel & Friends
Published: 2011-10-13T16:00:00+00:00

IT WAS HARD to tell the story in order. It was hard to remember details. It was hard to stay awake. Her parents had insisted upon staying in the room, although the agents seemed uncomfortable about the idea, either self-conscious about asking difficult questions in front of them—or afraid that she would hedge away from the answers. A psychologist had come along, too, which would have worried her, if she hadn’t known that that was fairly standard in debriefings like this. He hadn’t actually introduced himself as such, but she had picked him out right away—agency people, whether they were from three-letter agencies, or Secret Service, or whatever, were always very distinctive. The same haircut or something. Kind of like—astronauts.

“And then what happened?” one of the agents was asking.

She woke herself up. “I’m sorry, I don’t—when?”

“After you came to the conclusion that you had been abandoned in there,” he said.

There. The mine shaft? Christ, if that’s where they were, she had a long way to go yet. She sighed, picking up the fresh Coke one of the nurses had brought in.

“Do you remember?” he asked.

What did he think, that she was stupid? Of course she bloody remembered. Her hand was shaking, and she had to be very careful setting the Coke down so she wouldn’t spill it. “I—” Was she going to be tired like this for the rest of her damn life? She sighed. “I mean, I—”

“I think we ought to finish the rest of this later,” her father said, frowning at the agents.

Who promptly glanced at her mother for confirmation.

“I think that would be an excellent idea,” her mother said, her voice very even, and calm—and ice cold.

One of the agents, the leader guy, reached out to shake Meg’s hand, and she vaguely remembered him having introduced himself as Special Agent Morehouse. Morgan? Something like that. “Thank you, Meg,” he said. “You did very well.”

She shrugged, not sure if he meant it, or was just being patronizing. “You think you’re going to catch them?” Him?

The agent nodded. “Maybe not right away, but—it’s only a matter of time.”

Maybe. She nodded back, to be cooperative, hearing her father mutter something that sounded suspiciously like “Keystone Kops” as they left the room.

Her mother must have heard, too, because she touched his back. “They will certainly come up with something,” she said, in the “heads will roll” voice Meg rarely heard her use.

Her father didn’t exactly shake her hand off—but, in either case, he moved away from her. “Well.” He picked up his coffee cup from the sliding table. “Would you like something to eat, Meg? Or, to rest? Or—”

Decisions. “I don’t know,” she said. She was tired, but—she was getting tired of being tired. “Who sent all the flowers?”

Her parents looked at each other.

“We just thought we’d have a few small arrangements put in here,” her mother said. “Because—well, there’s been quite an outpouring.”

She wasn’t quite sure why such a bland question had made her parents look so strained, but it definitely had.

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