The restaurant is packed, full of people chatting loudly, mostly large families dealing with rambunctious children who tend to run around the tables like they’re on speed or something.

Me? I sit alone. Waiting. My phone rests on the table in front of me, unchecked. I fidget in my seat, smoothing the front of my dress, pressing my lips together, the unfamiliar stickiness of the lip gloss I’m wearing making me worried I might have smeared it.

I’m all dressed up, waiting for my date. Well. Not a real date, more of a negotiation meeting. Something clicked when I was in the shower last night. An idea. Crazy and rebellious, but that’s how I feel right now. I’m sick of being everyone’s puppet, of always wanting to please everyone. I’m taking control now. I’m so convinced this idea will work, I made the phone call first thing this morning.

No surprise, she was eager to meet and hear what I had to say. And the moment she enters the restaurant, it’s like I feel her presence. Glancing up, I see her being led toward my table by the host who greeted me earlier, a serene expression on her face as if she is the queen and we’re all nothing but her indentured servants.

“Katherine.” I stand when she stops by my seat, turning my cheek to accept her air kiss. So weird. The complete opposite from the almost hostile behavior I witnessed a few days ago. She’d been on edge then, I guess. I’m not sure what to think, but I do know this—I can’t read this woman. She flips and she flops constantly.

It’s annoying.

“Lisa.” I offer her a tight smile and gather the full skirt of my dress as I sit down, scooting my chair closer to the table. The host pushes Lisa’s seat in and she smiles up at him, dazzling the poor young guy. He’s starstruck.

Fortunately enough, I am not.

“I was so happy to receive your call.” A waiter appears, reaching for the empty water glass in front of Lisa, and he fills it expertly. She waits for him to leave before she continues talking. “I’m thrilled you’re willing to discuss an interview with me.”

She wastes no time and I prefer it. I really don’t want to sit and have a casual lunch with her. I came dressed to impress, putting on my new outfit as some sort of armor, ready to fight. Ready to get what I want.

“I have conditions,” I say, leaning my folded arms against the edge of the table. She watches me as she takes a sip of her water, her gaze never leaving mine. “Things I need you to agree to before I’ll do this interview.”

“Of course.” Like she never expected anything less.

I smile, though it feels forced. “I won’t talk to Aaron Monroe.” I repeated his name over and over again all morning to ensure I’d be able to say it without a waver in my voice. I’m proud of the fact that I sound so normal. “Don’t try and trick me by setting up some crazy chat between us. I will get up and walk out if you pull something like that.”

The flicker in her gaze tells me—ha!—that she was considering it. Unbelievable. “Of course not,” she says smoothly.

“I don’t want my interview to be too long. Ten minutes. That’s it. That’s the most I can do. I have no idea what else you’d want me to say.”

“Well, it’s mostly going to be a response piece.” Lisa leans forward, her expression, her demeanor, eager. I get the sense she’s been dying to discuss this with me for days. Weeks even. “Monroe’s interview was conducted almost a month ago. I can ask you questions related to what he told me.”

“Do I have to listen to him?” I don’t want to hear his voice. I don’t want those clips from his interview repeated back at me so I have to sit there and watch him, listen to him, see him with that arrogant look on his face as he trashes me. Tries to ruin me.

“No. I’ll read the questions to you. We already have them formatted and ready to go. We plan on running the clips from his statements during the actual interview, but if you don’t want to see any of it, you don’t have to.” She smiles, takes another drink of her water. Her menu remains untouched and so does mine, because I’m figuring neither of us is here to order food.

I know I’m certainly not.

“I have one other condition.” This is the one that makes me the most nervous. I don’t know how she’s going to take it. I’m not even sure if I’m making the right choice, but I feel like this is what I need to do in order for this stupid television appearance to happen.

I swore I wouldn’t do this again. But here I am, agreeing to an interview with Lisa Swanson about Aaron Monroe. About to say something that is insane. Truly nuts.

“Name it. I’m sure we can come to an agreement.”

“I won’t do this interview unless Will Monroe is involved. If he won’t participate, then neither can I.”

Gotta give her credit, Lisa remains completely calm. Not one crack appears in her impassive veneer. “He’s been very—reluctant to talk to me so far.”

I know Ethan. He’s probably refused to speak with her.

The waiter magically appears, wanting to know if we have any questions, are we ready to order, do we want something else to drink? Lisa orders a dirty martini. I say water’s fine. The restaurant may have a family-friendly vibe, but they also have a giant bar covered with TVs, all of them tuned to ESPN.

“It’s important that he’s able to tell his side of the story,” I say when the waiter leaves. “There are three sides to this experience. Mine, Monroe’s, and Will’s. I think Eth—Will must have a lot to say.” I wince at my near slip, but she doesn’t seem to notice. I push forward so I don’t give her a chance. “I’m guessing he’s reluctant because he’s probably afraid he’ll look guilty.”

Lisa’s gaze is steady as she watches me. “Is he guilty?”

I hate that she asked that question. It infuriates me, how so many people automatically assume he’s a monster like his father. “No,” I say vehemently, shaking my head. “He is one hundred percent innocent. He saved me. I told you this before.”

“Have you searched his name online? Seen what people say about him on crime forums?” Lisa asks.

My irritation grows. Of course I have. It’s hard to believe, but there are forums for anything you could ever think of. There are entire sub-forums dedicated to Aaron Monroe and his crimes. Discussions abound about his son’s involvement, whether he’s innocent or not. Most of the chatter had died down over the years, but with my recent television interview and the upcoming interview with Aaron Monroe himself, the interest has resurged.

Especially because William Monroe hasn’t been found—until now.

“I know what they say. But none of it is true.” I lean forward, desperate to get my point across. “He saved my life. I don’t know how many times I can say that. The only reason I’m here, that I’m alive, is because of Will Monroe. And I will only do this interview if he participates. Otherwise, it’s not going to happen.”

The dirty martini is set in front of Lisa and she thanks the waiter before he leaves. She reaches for the olives skewered on a toothpick, pulling them out of the glass and popping one in her mouth. She’s contemplating me. Possibly trying to make me feel uncomfortable with her interview stare—we’ve all seen it on television at one time or another, but it’s different to actually face it.

But I’m not falling for her tactics. I’m standing firm on wanting Ethan involved in this interview. I don’t know how he’ll feel about taking part in it, but I don’t really care.

He needs to be there.

Last time I saw him I pushed him away, yet here I am, dragging him back in. There’s a method behind my madness, though. A plan to set into motion, and I hope it works. I think it will, but as always, I’m unsure.

When does anything ever work out in my life?

“I’ll see what I can do,” Lisa says after she swallows the olive. “I’d love to have both you and Will participating in this interview. It would be the coup of a lifetime.”

Her blatant admission doesn’t faze me. I rise from my chair, my purse slung across my shoulder once more as I smile down at her. “Call me and let me know how it pans out.”

I start to walk away when she calls my name, halting my progress. Slowly I turn to find her coming toward me, right there in the middle of the restaurant, seemingly not giving a crap whether anyone recognizes her or not. Me? No one knows who I am. It’s amazing how even after appearing on a national network, no one seems to recognize me. Ever.

I prefer it that way.

“Do you realize that he doesn’t live that far from you? Will,” she says when I look at her blankly. “That’s really why I’m here. To chase the both of you down.”

Her honesty is admirable. I purposely keep my expression as neutral as possible. “One down, one to go?” I ask.

“Exactly.” She smiles, pleased that I’m not upset, I’m sure. “I’ll give Will a call, tell him you want to see him. That you want to thank him for all that he did for you.” Lisa pauses, gauging my reaction no doubt. “Do you mind if I say that?”

I’m frozen, unsure of how to react, what to say. Come on too strong and I look suspicious. No reaction at all and she’ll suspect something’s up, too. “I don’t mind. But tell him . . . tell him that I miss him.”

Lisa tilts her head to the side, contemplating me. “Rather strong words, don’t you think? Were you really that close to him? You spent what, a couple of hours together total? Almost ten years ago, during a very traumatic and life-altering time of your life. How can you even remember him?”

She’s already digging. But she’s always digging, so I shouldn’t be surprised. “I’m closer to him than anyone else I’ve ever met,” I tell her before I turn and head for the front door of the restaurant.

Lisa doesn’t follow, doesn’t say another word, and I make my escape, thankful for the fresh breeze that washes over me when I emerge outside. My plan is in place.

Now I can only hope that Ethan will agree.