Chapter 1
“Secretary Lawrence, how is Mircalla Karnstein not a suspect at this point, especially given her secrecy and family ties?” The reporter asked, clearly frustrated. The press corps usually does an excellent job of staying neutral, but when one of their own goes missing, all bets are off- especially when that reporter is the beloved Laura Hollis.
Danny Lawrence sighed from behind the podium, the seal of the Secretary of Defense pasted to the front. She and Laura had been friends since college, supporting each other as their respective careers came to have larger and larger impacts. One of Laura’s first stories had been about Danny’s candidacy when she ran for State House all those years ago. She was stubborn and diligent, but also understanding and honest, making her a favorite among cabinet members and readers alike.
“The fact remains that Ms. Karnstein has been fully cooperative from the beginning,” Danny stated flatly. “She has provided us with the photographs of when Ms. Hollis was last seen and has offered a number of helpful leads since her own escape.”
From behind her, Danny’s bodyguard- Kirsch- whispered in her ear. She nodded and faced the rest of the room. “Thank you, I’m afraid that’s all we have time for today. As promised, we intend to make our investigation into the disappearance of Laura Hollis as transparent as possible while ensuring that neither her safety nor ours are compromised.”
She turned her heel and made her way to her office, strides long and quick. “Did they ask her to leave?” Danny asked Kirsch with more venom than she intended.
“I think they’re afraid of her,” he replied, smiling softly as they opened the door to Danny’s office.
Carmilla was already sitting on the couch in the middle of the room, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees and her hands folded as if she was praying. Danny knew Carmilla wasn’t one to pray, but she also knew that if there was anything that would push her to start, it would probably be this whole mess.
“I told you we’d send for you if we needed you,” Danny said with a hint of sympathy. She dismissed Kirsch and closed the door behind her.
“You need to let me help,” Carmilla said standing rigidly.
“Carmilla, you’ve done all you can.”
“I can do more!” She was already yelling.
“You’re a photographer!”
“I’m a Karnstein!”
At that, Danny paused. She sat and gestured for Carmilla to do the same across from her. “Look,” she started, “I know this is really personal for you—”
“—And it’s not for you?”
Danny’s eyes hardened. “Not in the same way and you know that. You’re worried about Laura and your mom? I’m worried about Laura, the press corps, a dictator whose regime is notorious for violence and corruption. The Karnstein name is synonymous with blood, not diplomatic relations. It’s not like I can just kick the door down and rescue Laura guns blazing.”
“I can.”
“You already tried that and look where it got you. You were lucky you were even able to escape.”
“It’s because I know that place and those people like the back of my hand—”
“—which is why we appreciated your blueprints and personnel briefs. But you’ve done all you can. You need rest. And I need you to lay low.”
“‘Lay low’ my ass, Xena.” Carmilla left in a huff, face set and eyes still defiant. She left the building and made her way to the nearest metro station, on her way to her next appointment at a newsroom. She made it there fifteen minutes early.
When one of the producers from MSNBC had called about doing an interview, she knew she’d be exposing herself to all manners of personal questions, but she’d do anything to make sure finding Laura would remain a top priority. Letting news stories go by the way side is a good way to make sure the cabinet loses focus on certain topics.
Hair, done. Make-up, done. Mic, check. 3-2-1.
“Welcome back. My guest tonight, a lightning rod in the middle of the investigation into the disappearance of reporter Laura Hollis: Mircalla Karnstein, though you may know her as photographer Carmilla Stein. Thank you for joining us.”
“I appreciate the chance to be here.”
The niceties were dull as Carmilla tried to keep the best parts of the stories for herself and those closest to her and Laura. How did they meet? What was it like working together? What was this story that was so important? All the questions led up to the portion of the interview Carmilla had needed the most: maybe she wasn’t Laura’s hero, but she certainly wasn’t the villain everyone wanted her to be.
“Now, can you paint us a picture of how you even found yourselves in that situation?”
“Sure,” Carmilla prepared herself for the abbreviated version. “I took particular interest in the story because of my familiarity with Styria, with the players, the setting, and yes, because of my family. I hoped that my being there would ensure the team’s safety in case we ran into trouble.”
“And to be clear, that’s because your mother is the President of Styria.”
“Dictator. Yes.”
“You were the last person to see Laura Hollis. Where was that?”
“At the National Palace.”
“Your childhood home?”
“Yes.”
“You say they captured both of you, correct?”
“They did.”
“And yet, you are the only one who escaped? You’re the one who gets to tell this story in which you’re both victims and not necessarily a story in which you did anything your family might have asked you to. You do see how that’s suspicious, don’t you?”
“I do,” Carmilla inhaled deeply. “I would have nothing to gain from that though. It’s the whole reason I’ve built a life in the United States and not one where I grew up. I want no part of my mother’s regime- I never have. I thought that if I was able to capture this story the way it needed to be captured, then my mother could be stopped. That’s the effect Laura had—has—on me. She’s someone who not only believes that peace is possible, but that every single one of us is worth saving. That’s a rare kind of hope to find, especially in someone who’s seen as much as she has. We need to get her back.”
The host searched Carmilla’s face, looking for reasons to think she was lying. She found none. “Thank you for being here,” she said more earnestly this time. She faced the camera. “To know Laura Hollis is to love her. We’re waiting for you to get home.”
CUT. Cue the sudden bustle of camera operators and production assistants crisscrossing their way around the set. The host stood up. “I mean it: thank you. I know I was really combative, but all of us are horrified at what could be happening to Laura right now. We just wish we had someone to blame.”
“Right.” Carmilla guessed this was the part where she was supposed to make the other person feel better. If Laura was there, she would have shot her a glare with her arms crossed. “I understand,” she said. It was like she was still carrying little bits of Laura with her through her days. “I have to go.”
Twenty minutes later, she was at her front door, only someone had beaten her to it. She smiled, remembering all the other moments that seeing LaF had annoyed her, mostly because of all the interrupting.
“That was bold,” they said. “Perry made cookies, figured I’d interrupt your super busy evening.”
Carmilla looked at the tray and smiled. Chocolate chip. Laura’s favorite. She looked at LaF. “You’ll have to forgive the watered down version of all the fun stories earlier. I wanted to keep all the best stuff as our own.”
“I get it,” LaF nodded. “But that stuff is always way funnier when you tell it for real. I brought the cookies, so I’m gonna barter them for the real stories now.”
The two entered the apartment. LaF sat on the couch while Carmilla poured them both glasses of wine and joined them in the living room. “Did you know that she absolutely hated me when we first met?”