Page 166 of Hello, Summer
Conley took a final look at herself in the bedroom mirror. Her hair had been hot-rollered, back-combed, and sprayed. Selena had used an actual airbrush to apply a thick coating of foundation to her face, followed by face powder, blush, bronzer, and contouring. She was wearing four shades of eye shadow, eyeliner, eye pencil, lip liner, lipstick, and multiple coats of mascara.
“I didn’t wear this much makeup when I was my sister’s maid of honor,” she told the producer. “But I notice you didn’t cover up the bruises on my cheek.”
“We want viewers to really see your injuries,” Selena explained. “But I only brought the basics because I know you print gals are into minimalism. You’ll have to get used to it if you’re going to do this for a living.”
“Who said I’m doing this for a living?” Conley asked.
“Let’s talk after we’ve finished the shoot,” Selena said.
They positioned her in front of the collapsed porch, and Selena ran through her directions.
“Just relax and look directly into the camera. Give us a summary of what happened and how you felt. I’ll ask you a few questions, but the camera will be focused on you.”
Conley had done a few television interviews over the years, so she wasn’t unused to the glare of a camera, but being interviewed as a victim was a new and unwelcome experience.
“Tell us how you felt when you realized that the man who’d stalked and terrorized you after you’d spurned his advances was dead,” Selena prompted.
“I wasn’t happy. It was a horrible experience, but I never wanted him dead. I just wanted him to leave me alone. I guess I was mostly relieved.”
“Now, your newspaper has reported that the man who attacked you, Deputy Walter Poppell, had a juvenile record for sexual assault, is that correct?”
“Yes,” Conley said. “My colleague Michael Torpy talked to a law enforcement source who confirmed that after being charged with beating and assaulting a girl as a young teen, Poppell was sentenced to some kind of public service in a juvenile intervention center, and afterward, his record was expunged.”
“And yet he was hired by the Bronson County Sheriff’s Office as a deputy. Do you think the sheriff’s office should be held accountable for the actions of Deputy Poppell?”
It was a question Selena hadn’t asked her during her brief run-through.
Conley thought back to Merle Goggins’s concern for her well-being and his final words to her earlier that morning, when he’d clasped her hand and told her to take care of herself.
“No,” she said slowly. “Juvenile records are sealed in this state, and the sheriff assured me he had no knowledge of Poppell’s history. But I do think every person who ever looked the other way when a ‘boy’ like Poppell made a lewd comment or sexted pictures of a classmate should be accountable. Every coach who let an athlete play despite knowinghe was a violent bully is accountable. And every parent who refused to acknowledge or discipline a child for those kinds of behaviors is accountable. I don’t think men like Walter Poppell are born like that. I think they mutate.”
Selena Kwan was hopping up and down in her excitement. “That was perfect! I knew it! I knew you’d be a natural in front of the camera.”
Conley thought she’d never felt as unnatural in her entire life. She’d been nervous and sweaty and felt like a stranger in her own skin.
“Thanks, I guess.”
“Believe me. That was great. Part of the reason I came down here today was to see for myself, but now I have. Here’s the situation. One of my reporters is going out on maternity leave. The slot is yours if you want it. Great timing, right? And you’d be back in Atlanta.”
“I don’t know. Can I think about it?”
“What’s to think about?” Selena asked. “I have half a dozen other candidates right now—seasoned, on-camera talent who’d give their left boob for this slot. We’d give you a three-month trial, reporting, producing, lots of enterprise stuff, which I can see is right in your wheelhouse.”
“I’m flattered, really,” Conley said, “but I’ve got a lot going on in my life right now.”
“Somebody else made you an offer already?” Selena asked. “I can pretty much guarantee that our offer will be much more than you’d ever make at any print outlet in the country.”
“I did get a lot of phone messages this morning, after the story was picked up,” Conley said, “but it’s not really about the money.”
The producer shook her head. “People always say it’s not about the money, but it actually is about the money. Every time.”
“Maybe I’m the exception,” Conley said.
The camera operator was waiting in the van.
“Well, give it some thought, then,” Selena said. “But I’ll need to know in the next week or so.”
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