Page 39

“Shit. Shit shit shit. Shit.”

Alicia paced back and forth on the tiled side porch of the old pub. The chatter of diners inside floated out through the open windows, but the streets were deserted apart from the odd car driving through.

“Did you hear her? She’s going to press charges against Norah for assault.”

“And I didn’t even get a punch in,” Norah said miserably.

Norah and Jessica sat on an old church pew that was pressed up against the brick wall. Alicia expected that Jessica would be beside herself, but she wasn’t. She was quiet. Almost spaced out.

“Jessica!” Alicia stared at her. “Do you understand what just happened? Norah has a CCO! She’ll go to jail!”

“I understand that,” Jessica said.

“Then why aren’t you freaking out? Are you on something? Why am I the only one who’s panicking?”

Jessica shrugged. “I’m sorry I can’t summon the correct level of stress for you, but I assure you I’m concerned. What do you want from me?”

Alicia sank onto the pew beside them. “Sorry. I’m just… worried.” She glanced at Norah. “But we’ll work it out. Maybe Anna will be able to give us some advice.”

They sat there for a few more minutes before Alicia realized what was bugging her.

“Did you guys find it weird that Miss Fairchild didn’t seem anxious? I mean, if the body is Amy, it’s pretty incriminating for her.”

“The body isn’t Amy,” Jessica said.

“Unless it is,” Alicia said.

“Alicia, would you listen to yourself?”

“Hear me out. Miss Fairchild was the adult in the house when Amy lived there. If the body is hers, she’ll have some explaining to do. What will she say? That she didn’t know Amy existed? That we smuggled her into the house, murdered her, and buried her without Miss Fairchild’s knowledge?”

Jessica opened her mouth as if to dispute this, but before she could speak a voice said, “Pretty close.”

They all turned toward the door. Patel and Hando had joined them on the porch without them noticing.

“Her current story is that she had to stop fostering babies because you three were jealous and often became agitated or even violent with the smaller children,” Patel said. “She says if there is a child buried on the property that you girls are responsible.” Her gaze flickered to Norah. “Norah specifically.”

“Bullshit!” Norah sprung from her seat. “She was the one who jealous! She was the one who became agitated with the babies!”

Alicia stood and put a hand on Norah’s shoulder.

“But her testimony is compelling,” Patel pointed out. “You three had troubled childhoods and Norah has well-documented issues with violence. We’ve also seen enough to know that the three of you would do just about anything to protect each other. A lovely trait among sisters—but also a pretty powerful motivation to lie.”

Alicia sank back against the brick wall. Once again, Miss Fairchild had managed to paint herself as the victim. They were still three foster kids, troubled and angry and inherently suspect.

Patel exhaled. “I just want to know what happened at Wild Meadows,” she said, sounding frustrated. “I want to know whose bones were buried under the house.”

“So do we.” Jessica’s voice was quiet but intense. “That’s why we came here.”

“Then why didn’t you mention Amy from the start?” Patel exclaimed.

“We did.” Jessica rose to her feet. “We did mention her. Twenty-five years ago, we risked everything to tell the police about Amy and no one believed she was real. Now, we get a phone call out of the blue telling us there’s a body, and suddenly we’re supposed to understand that now you accept she was real all along? You should be apologizing for the mistake the police made twenty-five years ago!”

Patel had the decency to look abashed at this. Hando, too, looked uncomfortable.

“So you think the bones are Amy’s?” Norah asked.

Patel shrugged. “It’s possible.”

“Well, if there’s one thing to learn from what happened twenty-five years ago,” Alicia said, “it’s that we are the ones who are telling the truth.”