Shadow of Perception (9 page)

He did, but while eating a Big Mac and fries. Before he could respond, though, she stopped dead.

“Oh good, you’re still here,” she said to the large Asian man approaching them. Wearing a long, leather duster, boots, flannel shirt and carrying a cowboy hat, he looked as if he’d stepped off the set of an old spaghetti western film.
 

“And a good afternoon to you too,” the man replied with a thick Southern drawl.
 

Hudson suppressed a smile. He’d met all sorts of people in his life. An Asian man dressed as a cowboy, and sporting a deep, baritone twang that rivaled Johnny Cash’s, was a first.
 

“Sorry,” Eden said, then looked to the ceiling. “Hello, David. How are you today?”

“Fine, ma’am.” David smiled. “Now that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

She turned to Hudson. “David’s been trying to turn me into a Southern Belle.”

“Just ‘cause you were born a Yankee doesn’t mean you hafta act like one,” David responded and offered Hudson his hand. “David Ito. Cameraman extraordinaire and Eden’s personal lackey.”

“Professional consultant,” she corrected. “This is Hudson Patterson.”

“Nice to meetcha,” David said, then turned to Eden. “Now, why are you so happy to see me?”

“I was hoping you’d work with me on the last segment for my series.”

“You don’t need me. You’re better off with Rusty.”

“No. I mean, Rusty is good, but you’ve been with me on every interview and had taken every shot. It’s your opinion I need. You’re the reason this series has been so successful.”

David looked at him and shook his head. “Does she get all sweet and lay on the sugar when she wants something from you, too?”

Sweet wasn’t a word he’d ever use to describe Eden. Stubborn. Yes. Sexy. Hell yes. He cleared his throat before his thoughts jumped on the train to depravity.

“Well?” Eden asked before Hudson could form a response. “Are you free this afternoon?”

“He’s taken.” A tall, leggy blond said as she rounded the corner and placed a hand on David’s arm. “Sorry, Eden. You can’t keep him to yourself all of the time.”

“Tabitha,” Eden said, and from her pinched expression Hudson suspected she was holding back her surprise. “You’re going on assignment?”

“Don’t sound so shocked.” Tabitha narrowed her eyes and gave her curly hair a fluff. “While you’ve been busy rubbing asses with Network, I’ve been working some hardcore stories.”

“That’s right.” Eden nodded. “I saw your piece on the teachers union. You did a great job.”

“I...thank you.” Tabitha blinked several times, as if confused or shocked by Eden’s compliment, then lifted a vibrating cell phone from her suit coat pocket. “I have to answer this. David, I’ll wait for you in the van.”

Hudson noticed David staring at her ass as she walked away. When she was no longer in sight, the cowboy cameraman released a deep sigh. “I think I’m in love,” he drawled and held his hat over his chest.

“Just be careful about mixing business with pleasure.”

Wondering if Eden was sending
him
the warning, Hudson shifted his gaze to her. She had her eyes on David.
 

“Okay, traitor,” she began. “Go chase after your latest conquest. I’ll see if Rusty’s around to help me.”

“He is and he will. Check for him in Production Room C.”

Two hours later, Hudson turned off the TV Rusty Jones had supplied. While Eden and Rusty had worked on her report, he’d sat in a small conference room and watched Eden’s series “Beauty Pageant Queen Bees.”
 

Although Eden’s reporting and interviewing were excellent, and David had captured the essence of the child beauty pageants with his camera skills, the series left him with more questions. Like how did the crazy ass doctor make the leap from beauty pageant kids and their moms, to society being poisoned by perception, to mutilating a man in order to send a message? And where exactly did Eden fit with the doctor’s plans? He had to know she wouldn’t be able to air the gruesome DVD, which made Hudson wonder why the doctor had bothered involving her at all.
 

As it had for the past few hours, his stomach protested lack of sustenance and he regretted not taking Rusty up on his offer of Slim Jims and Funyuns. Deciding to hit the vending machine he’d passed earlier, Hudson left the conference room and ran into Eden and Rusty in the hallway.
         

“I was just coming to get you,” she said. “I’m finished for the day, unless you’re still watching the shows.”

“No, I’m good.”

“I’m not,” Rusty griped and held his stomach. “I’m grabbing some lunch.”

Eden winced. “Sorry, Russ, I’ll make it up to you. How about I bring donuts with me tomorrow?”

“Make ‘em apple fritters and you’ll be back on my good side.”

After Rusty rounded the corner, Hudson turned to her. “Rusty’s got the right idea. Let’s go grab a bite.”

“I’m not hungry,” she said as she led him through the halls and toward the exit. “I’d rather go home.”

When he held the glass door open for her, the cold November wind swept passed them. “Okay, that’ll work. But let’s at least stop at the grocery store on our way. I think a mouse could starve at your place.”

“I have plenty of things to eat at my house.”

“Let me rephrase, you don’t have anything
good
to eat.” He flipped his coat collar up to combat the wind and followed her brisk pace to the parking lot. Once in the Trans Am, he pulled off his gloves and started the ignition. “If you don’t want to stop at the store, then I’m at least going to grab some take-out.”
 

She rubbed her gloved hands together, then held them in front of the heat vents. “Do it on your way home.”

“Isn’t that what I just said?”

“No. I meant after you drop me off at
my
place and you go home to
yours
.”

“Subtle.”

She shrugged. “One of my strong points.” Looking out the window, she shook her head. “Anyway, what did you think of the series?”

“Fishing for compliments?”

She whipped her head toward him and narrowed her eyes. “You know damn well I’m not like—”

Chuckling he held up a hand. “Easy. I’m just blowing you crap. I thought it was good. A little shocking, though. I had no idea those things were so popular.”

“Oh yeah,” she said with a sarcastic huff. “You remember the JonBenét Ramsey case?”

“Sure.”

“The media had a field day with that one, not only focusing on every move the police and family had made, but the Ramseys’ participation with the pageant scene. I honestly think that, for most Americans, it was the first time people were exposed to the child beauty pageant phenomenon.”

“It was a first for me. I remember wondering why any parent would purposefully try to make their six-year-old daughter look like she was sixteen.”

Eden shrugged. “You’re not a mom or a little girl.”

“Observant. And your point?”

“Lots of little girls love to play dress-up. Wear pretty princess dresses. Play with their mom’s make-up and nail polish. I know I did. My sister and I used to do it all the time.”

Eden had a sister?
He’d assumed she was an only child, but now that he thought about it, he’d never asked her anything about her family when they’d been…dating. Okay, they’d been beyond dating when things had ended. He’d considered what they’d had a relationship. A partnership.
 

Then why did you lie to her?
 

Now wasn’t the right time to dissect all of that bullshit, or even drill her about her family. Keeping his focus to the case, he said, “I get that. But according to your series, it seemed to me that the moms were the ones pushing their daughters. And it wasn’t for fun.” The car had warmed up enough Hudson could turn down the heater.
     

“True,” she replied as she pulled off her gloves. “From what I witnessed, I’d say maybe eighty percent of the girls competing were there because they wanted to win. The rest...” She let out a long sigh. “During one pageant, I had been backstage with David. We’d just finished filming an interview with a mom and her thirteen year-old daughter. After David and I walked away, I realized I’d left my notes behind in their dressing room. When I went back, I overheard the girl we’d interviewed telling her mom she felt sick she was so hungry. Her mom told her she could eat after the pageant ended—two hours from that point by the way—and that she needed to be able to fit into all of her dresses. I also heard her say that if her daughter didn’t at least place in the competition that she’d make her sit in the learning room and write ‘I will be talented and beautiful’ a thousand times.”

Hudson released a low whistle. “I could only imagine what mommy dearest meant by the learning room.”

“Me too. Especially when the mom realized I had been listening. She had an absolute conniption and threatened to sue me and the TV station if I mentioned anything about what I’d overheard. She did, of course, insist that I still use their interview. She wanted TV exposure for her daughter. After all, mom was convinced her daughter would wind up a model.”

“You’d interviewed a lot of moms and daughters. Which episode were these two in?”

“They weren’t. I decided not to use their interview and instead called a woman I know from child services.”

“Nice,” he chuckled. “When are people going to learn not to mess with you?”

“What can I say? I’m a sucker for kids, old people and animals.”

“And the rest of us can kiss your ass?”

 
She sent him a big grin. “Don’t go putting words in my mouth. Anyway, nothing came of it. The girl said she loved her mom and that everything was hunky-dory. My friend with child services made the visit herself and said everything checked out. No signs of abuse or neglect. She did say her gut told her the mom wasn’t as sweet as she’d come off during their meeting. But, because she hadn’t found anything, and the girl refused to admit to any abuse, she had to close the case file.”

“And you think twenty percent of these girls might be in similar situations?”

“I’m not suggesting abuse.” She held up her hand and shook her head. “I’m saying that some of these girls aren’t competing in pageants because they want to, but because their moms want them to. And these moms are living vicariously through their daughters. Look at a lot of child movie stars. Those kids want to play and go to school like others their age, but mom and dad only see dollar signs.”

“Not that you’re grouping every parent with a famous kid into the same money grubbing category.”

“Of course not, but...okay, do you remember the interview with the mom from Calumet Park? She was in the third episode.”

“Lived in a trailer? Daughter was about three?”

“That’s the one. Now, her husband earns thirty-three thousand a year. She spends fourteen thousand a year on these pageants.”

“Ho-lee. It costs that much to enter these things?”

“No, but the clothes are expensive, then there’s the travel expense. Food, hotel room, gas money.”
 

“All of this for a three-year-old? That’s nuts.”

“To you. Well, and to me. But to that mother, her little girl is her ticket out of the trailer. She’s already had offers for her daughter to do a few local TV commercials and department store ads. Next stop. Hollywood.” She shrugged. “What these beauty pageant moms are doing isn’t any different from dads who push their sons into sports. But society doesn’t seem to be bothered by a four-year-old linebacker.”

He thought about his own childhood. How his father had pushed him to be better, tougher, stronger. Hudson hadn’t been as interested in all of the sports programs his dad had shoved him into, but remembered how good it had made him feel when he saw his dad cheering from the sidelines. Later, he and his dad would sit for hours in their small family room where they’d discuss his game. Most times though, that discussion would end with his father drunk on gin, yelling and bitching about his own sorry experiences with sports. How, if he hadn’t knocked up his mom and been forced to take a shit job and skip college, his dad could have been…something. “You won’t get any arguments from me.”

“That’s a first,” she said with a half-laugh.
 

“Not really. The only time we argued, and I mean really argued, was—”

“I don’t want to go there. It’s over and there’s no point in bringing it up now.”

“I never liked the way things between us ended,” he said even though he knew she was right. He supposed a part of him resented her for not allowing him the chance to fully apologize and explain himself. Or maybe he resented her for not caring enough about him as he had for her. She hadn’t even cared enough to tell him she had a sister.

Remember, you didn’t ask.

“Please. Let it go.”

He didn’t want to, and couldn’t understand why. She kept giving him easy ways to avoid their past and for some reason, he kept pushing to rip open old wounds.
 

“Um...” She cleared her throat. “Did you come up with any ideas as to why the doctor from the DVD might have associated my series with what he’d done to his victim?”