Night Will Find You by Julia Heaberlin

Author:Julia Heaberlin
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Flatiron Books

22

Bubba Guns slips back into his chair while my head is still down on my list. He’s sucking a Pepto Bismol–pink smoothie, not a beer.

Bubba Guns’s index finger jabs the button. The crescent scar in the soft spot beside my thumb starts to throb, remembering that snakebite like it was ten minutes ago instead of fourteen years. So does the permanent white streak along my right calf, carved by the fender of the blue Mustang. Two scars that are tattoos for the people I love most. One for Brig. One for Mike.

“Round two, folks,” he booms. “Great job on your tweets. I’m surprised so many of you had a hard-on for your middle school science teachers. Our star girl in studio right now is pretty easy on the eyes, too. The myth about stuffy scientists, busted. Before I get in trouble with our guest, who has a Supreme Court sexual harassment case look on her face right now, let’s switch gears to the gingerbread girl, Lizzie Solomon, a child who needs justice. If you know something about the Lizzie Solomon case, or you think you are Lizzie Solomon, we’ve tweeted the number for a special tip line set up right after the show from seven to eight p.m. Dr. Bouchet, I’d like to start this segment with your lineage. Did your mother, a Fort Worth resident, use to call herself a psychic?”

“Yes. She had a number of clients. Regular, loyal ones.” The last three words, unnecessary. Defensive. Already. I feel like I’m on the witness stand.

“But Asteria Bouchet, not her real name, right?”

“No, it wasn’t. I’d prefer you didn’t mention her real name. For privacy. She just … passed away.” It’s a sudden and ugly snapshot in my head—her body dug up and pecked to ribbons by the vultures of Bubba Guns. Her fresh grave is still piled high with red dirt, a highly visible target.

“My sincere condolences. But my team is looking at public record, so anyone out there can look it up. Out of respect, I won’t say it on the air. Let’s take a trip down memory lane. When you were a kid, you, your mom, and your sister—Brigid, is it?—lived in a rental house in the Blue Ridge Mountains where a woman’s body, long missing, was found. It was your mom who claimed that her psychic intuition was responsible for the discovery. And, now, here you are, her progeny psychic, declaring you can do the same thing for our Lizzie Solomon.”

“I’m not declaring anything. I don’t call myself a psychic. It’s one of the reasons I agreed to come on your show. To make that clear.”

“Interesting. So why did the Fort Worth police come to you? And why did you agree to help? Let me rephrase all that because I don’t want to use up any of my three allotted questions about the case. Have you ever predicted something that, say, saved a life? No need to hesitate. Again, public record.”

“I was just a kid. I knocked a boy out of the way of a car.

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