“Okay, everybody make sure you tweet the link to the event site!” Sophia calls as she ushers us into her huge kitchen, which has become an assembly line for candle drip protectors made from plain white paper plates. “We only have twenty-six hours until the vigil, so we want to give people as much time as possible to plan to come! Cameron, can you take a group to staple up the posters in town?”

Sophia finds Landry a seat at the end of her long kitchen bar and sets her up with a pair of scissors and a stack of paper plates. My sister digs into her task, sneaking the occasional wide-eyed glance around the room at all the high schoolers, and to my relief, most of them return her shy smile.

Even if they still think I’m the #babykiller, they evidently aren’t going to take that out on my little sister. Not while there’s a television camera in the room, anyway.

“Hey!” Sophia tugs me aside before I can grab a paper plate and get started. “So, I met this reporter while we were distributing some of the posters downtown, and she said she could help us get the word out if I let her film the prep work for the vigil. And she asked if you were going to be here, so …”

I look over her shoulder to see that the reporter currently directing her cameraman to pan around the open kitchen/dining/living area is in fact the same one who chased me down the sidewalk two days ago.

“So you told her I would be?”

Sophia shrugs. “Well, I wasn’t gonna lie. Anyway, she’s hoping to get an interview with you. You know, since you’re the one who found poor Lullaby Doe.”

“I’m not supposed to talk to the press,” I tell her, but Sophia is already waving the reporter over.

“Well, you don’t have to agree to an interview. But you should at least hear her out. Since she’s already agreed to do a story about the vigil.”

“Sophia, there will probably be lots of reporters there. She’s not doing us a favor. She’s doing her job.”

But by then, the reporter is just feet away.

“Sorry,” Sophia tells her. “Beckett is camera shy.”

“No problem. And she’s right. This is my job.” The reporter sticks her hand out for me to shake, and I only take it because her cameraman is still aiming his lens in the other direction. “I’m Audrey Taylor, WBBJ on-scene reporter.”

“Yes. We’ve met.”

Fact-Check Rating: Half-true. Really, she just came into the salon and started shouting questions at me last time.

“You aired footage of me cursing at an old woman. Yet you didn’t manage to capture what she’d said to deserve it.”