53. Alicia

NOW

They arrived at the police station at the same time as Bianca, Zara, and Rhiannon.

"You got here fast," Patel observed as they entered the foyer together. "Why don't we head into the meeting room?"

"Hando told me about Jessica," Patel said to Alicia as they walked down the corridor. "How is she doing?"

"No change."

The room she led them to looked like any other crappy meeting room—ugly blue carpet, shiny pine table, a whiteboard at one end.

"What happened to Jessica?" asked a voice behind them.

Alicia whirled around. It was Miss Fairchild.

"Don't," Alicia said, holding up a hand. "Don't you dare say her name."

Meera put a hand on her shoulder. "Al."

"What do you mean?" Miss Fairchild looked surprised and irritated. She didn't like not knowing things. "Where is she?"

A small part of Alicia wanted the woman to be aware of what she'd done. Another didn't want to give her the satisfaction of knowing the power she still held over Jessica.

"Alicia?" Miss Fairchild prompted.

"She doesn't want you to know, you stupid woman," Dirk said, appearing behind her.

Miss Fairchild glared at him, incensed. "How dare you?"

It was chaotic in the little room, with everyone talking. "Which ones are the police officers?" Meera whispered to Alicia. She hadn't yet introduced herself as their legal counsel.

"Dirk," Patel said. "This is a private—"

"I just have something to say," he said. "About Amy."

Now Dirk had the floor. You could have heard a mouse whisper in the room. Even Meera's professional mask slipped a little as she gaped at him with interest.

"I lied," Dirk said. "I did see her."

The silence that followed seemed destined to last forever. It was too big, too complex a statement. It rattled in the room. Every time Alicia opened her mouth to say something, the words evaporated into the air.

"This is a significant admission," Patel said finally. "Are you prepared to put it in a statement?"

Dirk nodded. He turned the baseball cap he was holding around and around in his hands.

"You can't be serious!" Miss Fairchild exploded. "The man is a sex offender. He's probably the one who put the body under the house!"

"I'm not a sex offender," Dirk said. "My only crime is hooking up with a fifteen-year-old when I was eighteen. We were in a bar, so I assumed she was of legal age. Unfortunately, her dad was a barrister and I was found guilty of having intercourse with a minor." He exhaled slowly. "I moved to the country to get away from all the talk. I've always loved horses, so it was the perfect job. I was supposed to stay one hundred meters or more away from kids." He spoke directly to Alicia, Norah, and Jessica. "Your foster mother was annoyed with me after I let you ride the horses and she did some research. The day Amy supposedly disappeared, Miss Fairchild paid me a visit."

"She blackmailed you?" Norah asked.

"For heaven's sake," Miss Fairchild said. "The police are investigating him. Of course he's going to come up with a story to cover his ass!"

"She didn't tell me much," Dirk continued, "just that there had been a mix-up with the adoption paperwork and it turned out she'd had the little girl illegally for six months. She told me the girl was already on her way to her new family, but if the police had questions just to say I knew nothing. If I did that, she said, she wouldn't have to tell them I'd been fraternizing with the adolescent girls at the farm." Dirk put on a very strange woman's voice for this last part. "That was fine by me; I didn't want to be caught up in anything regarding a little girl, given my record."

He looked up at them with new clarity, as though his speech had taken him somewhere else. "I read about the body being found under Wild Meadows last week. I should have gone to the cops straightaway, but… I don't know. I thought they'd point the finger at me. I've been wrestling with it for a week. I came to see you last night to tell you but I was intercepted by you-know-who. Anyway, I wanted to tell the truth, so there it is. I'm sorry."

"All right," Hando said finally. "We appreciate you sharing that, Dirk, and as Detective Patel said, we'd like you to make a formal statement. Detective Tucker will take care of that with you now." He nodded at Tucker, who led Dirk from the room.

Alicia's feelings were piling up too quickly for her to process.

Anger at Dirk for lying.

Gratitude toward him for telling the truth now.

The knowledge that they'd been gaslit their whole lives.

The thrill of finally being able to prove it.

Meera spoke up. "My name is Meera Shah," she said. "I'm acting as legal counsel for Alicia and Norah today."

Hando and Patel exchanged a glance. "Noted."

"You brought a lawyer?" Miss Fairchild said. "Sounds like you're feeling guilty about something."

"As I said on the phone," Hando sound loudly, as several voices rose in protest, "we've asked you here because the forensic anthropologist has finished examining the remains. As you may or may not be aware, there was a request to pay careful attention to the feet, looking for evidence of a sixth toe, or a deformity that would indicate that there had once been a sixth toe."

"And…?" Alicia could barely breathe.

"They found no evidence of this," Hando said. "The feet appear to have developed normally."

Alicia and Norah and Meera looked at one another.

"I don't understand," Zara piped up. "Why would there be a sixth toe?"

"Amy had six toes on her left foot," Norah said, her gaze still on the detective. "Are you sure they checked the correct foot?"

"Who is Amy?" Rhiannon said.

"There's more," Hando said. "They also estimated the child to be under the age of one."

Silence. Norah looked as baffled as Alicia felt. Alicia didn't know what to say. "It doesn't make sense."

The only people in the room who didn't look confused were Hando and Patel. Patel chose this moment to step forward with her piece of the puzzle. "Perhaps the most significant finding was that the bones are older than we initially thought," she said. "Their best estimate is fifty years. Certainly longer than twenty-five."

Alicia had no words. Norah wiped her face with her palm. Everyone in the room looked stunned, with the exception of Zara, who looked quite… animated. It was jarring. Alicia was about to ask if she was all right, but Zara got in first.

"Okay, so I don't know if this is significant," she said, "but I have six toes on my left foot."

THE OFFICE OF DR. WARREN, PSYCHIATRIST

"So you disappeared into the night with the baby and a tin of cash?" Dr. Warren says. "How far did you get?"

"Not even to end of the driveway," I say. "Mind you, it was a long driveway. I was almost at the gate when I heard the engine of John's car roar to life. There was no point in running, nowhere to hide. Within seconds, the headlights illuminated us. I turned to face them, as the car approached.

"My mother was in the passenger seat. Her eye was swollen. John got out of the car and came at me like a train, grabbing my shoulders and shaking me so hard I dropped my bag and had to clutch Amy to stop from dropping her too.

"‘Where is my money?' he roared. His eyes were glazed with demented fury. Of course it was about the money. It would have hurt his pride to see me get away but ultimately it would have made his life easier. The money was another story.

"‘Give me the tin, you bitch!' he said, pushing me again.

"I stumbled, then flew at him in a rage, pummeling him with my free hand. ‘You are disgusting,' I cried. ‘Preying on vulnerable women and little girls while pretending to be a man of God. It's so sad. How can you live with yourself?'

"After the shock of the first few punches wore off, he gripped me by the shoulders tightly enough that his nails bit into my skin. Then he held me at arm's length, preventing any more of my pathetic punches from landing. I hadn't noticed my mother getting out of the car. When she came to stand by my side, I thought it was a supportive gesture—until she snatched Amy from my arms.

"‘No!' I cried. But she didn't listen. Her face was determined as she carried Amy back to the car. ‘Mum, plea—'

"John slapped me so hard I saw stars, tasted blood.

"‘Mum,' I tried again, weaker now, but the next slap was harder, knocking me to the ground, stealing my breath.

"John spat at me. ‘Whore.'

"He bent over, pulling open my makeshift bag and withdrawing the tin of cash. After checking to see it was all there, he spat again, and returned to the car.

"‘Don't hurt her,' I called after him weakly, but he wouldn't have heard because the engine was roaring to life again. ‘Please! Don't hurt Amy.'

"He did a U-turn, then drove away back to the house. I never saw Amy again."