Sandra, who’d been on the verge of a panic attack earlier, was feeling pretty proud of herself. She’d turned it around. Sure, it would have been better if that Rebecca Geary had never asked questions about Kyle in the first place, but Sandra had given Lisa Carver a chance to circle back, make her speech about how the Arrival would make the world a safer place.

Sandra wasn’t expecting to be showered with praise—that didn’t happen often—but she wouldn’t be surprised to get a nod of acknowledgment for what she’d done.

When she and Ruskin entered the room, the walls lined with mats and shelves of basketballs and other sporting equipment, they found a stone-faced Lisa Carver.

She looked at Ruskin first.

“Of all the people you could have hired, you picked her,” she said, giving a slight tip of her head toward Sandra.

“We wanted to go local,” Ruskin said. “We thought it would help in winning over the islanders to have someone who knows them.”

“Excuses, Albert. Excuses.”

Sandra said, “If I might—”

Lisa, still looking at Ruskin, said, “I was humiliated up there. These people needed to keep to a script. Were there not questions prepared for them to ask?”

Ruskin stammered, “I believe, well, Ms. Montrose was just pointing out that the press don’t respond well to being told what to ask, so—”

“My God, what an amateur operation,” Lisa continued. “Bad coffee, bad questions, and no seedless, green grapes.”

Ruskin turned on Sandra. “You forgot the grapes?”

Sandra said, “No one ever told me—”

“Never mind,” Ruskin said.

Lisa, still not looking at Sandra, said to Ruskin, “I’d fire you if I didn’t need you so damn much, but you can certainly fire her.”

“I’m right here,” Sandra said. “If you’re not happy, you can tell me to my face. I’m not invisible.”

Finally, Lisa looked her way. “You might as well have been nonexistent for all the help you were.”

Sandra tried to say something, but found herself speechless. All the months she had worked on this, all the sleepless nights. And all for nothing because this—yes, she was going to go there—because this bitch got a hard question and a nasty cup of java?

“Wow,” said Lisa. “Good comeback.” Then, to Ruskin, “Let’s get out of this two-bit island backwater.”

“There’s still the photo op outside to do,” Ruskin told her.

Lisa appeared to deflate. “That,” she said resignedly. “Okay, we do the demo, and then we’re out of here.”

The two of them exited the room, leaving Sandra standing there, shell-shocked.

She could not believe what had just happened.

“Adam,” she whispered to herself. “Oh, Jesus, Adam, where are you when I need you?”

Brandon Kyle remained in his chair, tapping away at the laptop, as members of the media who’d been sitting nearby were gathering their things and preparing to leave.