Turned out Dad and I weren't the only weepy ones. Pamela hurried to me when Dad left and hugged me, tears on her face. I was surprised the tough as nails newspaper reporter showed such emotion then remembered she'd been the one who found me.
"Thanks for the rescue," I whispered. She gave me some water, thankfully without me having to ask, the bendy straw delivering tepid liquid better than any coffee or wine I'd ever tasted.
"I wish I'd gotten there sooner." She sat next to me, glass in her lap, face strained and tired. "I was snooping, heading to see you, if you had anything new." Pamela dashed at the tears on her cheeks, one hand supporting the frosted plastic glass, liquid sloshing over the side and into her lap. She didn't seem to notice. "I saw that Randy Russell, the paparazzo." He
