He’d never felt that about anyone before.
Shaking off the thought, he pulled into a spot on the street and climbed out of his car. He whistled to himself as he walked, kicking his thoughts into more serious matters. He needed to find out everything he could about Sadie McRae post-2002. And maybe with a little help from her, he could even solve the mystery of who shot Lee Walker. That would sure get his father’s attention and maybe even restore an ounce of his reputation within the journalism circles. All he needed was to find a way to contact her.
He unlocked his apartment, immediately going to the fridge for a beer. With a Corona in hand he sat down on the couch and opened his laptop.
He Googled her name first, curious to see when she’d last been mentioned in the news. He took a sip of his beer as he watched the results filter in, the first one a Wikipedia article. Clicking on it, he read through her biography and the well known details of what transpired the night Lee Walker tried to rape her. Most of it was stuff he already knew, things he remembered from the months following the incident.
She’d been cornered in her bedroom, slapped around, and almost raped. Then when she’d been on the verge of passing out, someone had come into the room, grabbed Lee Walker’s gun from the dresser, and shot him. He’d died on the spot, right in front of Sadie. By all accounts she’d watched him die, but had blacked out before seeing the shooter. He’d always wondered if she had seen the person’s face, but was covering up the person’s identity. Why she would do that when it was clearly an act of defense, he wasn’t sure. Unless, in some strange twist of circumstance, it wasn’t. Was the killing of Lee Walker really as black and white as the police made it out to be?
He clicked back to the search results and found a scattering of websites about the scandal. Time Magazine called it one of the “Top Ten Unsolved Crimes in Los Angeles History” and a few websites spelled out every little detail of the investigation that was made public. He skimmed through them, absorbing it all like a sponge.
There were a few articles from a couple years back that mentioned the scandal, but nothing substantial. As he scrolled down, he caught websites that talked about Sadie’s parents and their careers, with only brief mentions of the daughter they shared.
In the end, no one had talked about Sadie McRae or bothered to find her for several years. She’d practically disappeared from the public eye. Poof. Gone. No more.
So then why was she suddenly in Hollywood, performing under an alias? He realized he’d missed the opportunity to ask her. He’d been so caught up in the nostalgia of seeing her again that it had slipped his mind.
Next time he wouldn’t let himself forget. Once he found her there was no stopping him from getting the truth.
On impulse, he clicked into the search result images. Pictures of her at fifteen years old popped up, one a school picture from Harvard-Westlake. It was the one that was spread around the most in the wake of what had happened. Other images were of her parents, some outside the courtroom or candid street shots from the tabloids. His eyes caught one image in particular showing Ben McRae leading Sadie out of the hospital, likely taken the day after it happened.
His brows furrowed as he stared at the image, sorrow washing over him. She looked terrified. Wounded, broken, and lost. The camera captured the wide, haunted look of her eyes and the pale, pasty tone of her skin. He also noticed that her father clutched her arm in a way that suggested he felt more inconvenienced than grateful his daughter wasn’t hurt. Anger built within him at the thought. She’d deserved so much better than what she got. It was a shame that so nice a person could suffer at the hands of monsters.
Heart heavy with emotion, he clicked into another picture, this time of her on a college campus at about twenty years old.
Shaking off the thought, he pulled into a spot on the street and climbed out of his car. He whistled to himself as he walked, kicking his thoughts into more serious matters. He needed to find out everything he could about Sadie McRae post-2002. And maybe with a little help from her, he could even solve the mystery of who shot Lee Walker. That would sure get his father’s attention and maybe even restore an ounce of his reputation within the journalism circles. All he needed was to find a way to contact her.
He unlocked his apartment, immediately going to the fridge for a beer. With a Corona in hand he sat down on the couch and opened his laptop.
He Googled her name first, curious to see when she’d last been mentioned in the news. He took a sip of his beer as he watched the results filter in, the first one a Wikipedia article. Clicking on it, he read through her biography and the well known details of what transpired the night Lee Walker tried to rape her. Most of it was stuff he already knew, things he remembered from the months following the incident.
She’d been cornered in her bedroom, slapped around, and almost raped. Then when she’d been on the verge of passing out, someone had come into the room, grabbed Lee Walker’s gun from the dresser, and shot him. He’d died on the spot, right in front of Sadie. By all accounts she’d watched him die, but had blacked out before seeing the shooter. He’d always wondered if she had seen the person’s face, but was covering up the person’s identity. Why she would do that when it was clearly an act of defense, he wasn’t sure. Unless, in some strange twist of circumstance, it wasn’t. Was the killing of Lee Walker really as black and white as the police made it out to be?
He clicked back to the search results and found a scattering of websites about the scandal. Time Magazine called it one of the “Top Ten Unsolved Crimes in Los Angeles History” and a few websites spelled out every little detail of the investigation that was made public. He skimmed through them, absorbing it all like a sponge.
There were a few articles from a couple years back that mentioned the scandal, but nothing substantial. As he scrolled down, he caught websites that talked about Sadie’s parents and their careers, with only brief mentions of the daughter they shared.
In the end, no one had talked about Sadie McRae or bothered to find her for several years. She’d practically disappeared from the public eye. Poof. Gone. No more.
So then why was she suddenly in Hollywood, performing under an alias? He realized he’d missed the opportunity to ask her. He’d been so caught up in the nostalgia of seeing her again that it had slipped his mind.
Next time he wouldn’t let himself forget. Once he found her there was no stopping him from getting the truth.
On impulse, he clicked into the search result images. Pictures of her at fifteen years old popped up, one a school picture from Harvard-Westlake. It was the one that was spread around the most in the wake of what had happened. Other images were of her parents, some outside the courtroom or candid street shots from the tabloids. His eyes caught one image in particular showing Ben McRae leading Sadie out of the hospital, likely taken the day after it happened.
His brows furrowed as he stared at the image, sorrow washing over him. She looked terrified. Wounded, broken, and lost. The camera captured the wide, haunted look of her eyes and the pale, pasty tone of her skin. He also noticed that her father clutched her arm in a way that suggested he felt more inconvenienced than grateful his daughter wasn’t hurt. Anger built within him at the thought. She’d deserved so much better than what she got. It was a shame that so nice a person could suffer at the hands of monsters.
Heart heavy with emotion, he clicked into another picture, this time of her on a college campus at about twenty years old.
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