Тесс Герритсен - I Know a Secret

“Yes. It is.”

“But now you’re talking about homicide cases. About four people being murdered. And that takes away any hope I might have had.”

Frost leaned forward on the sofa and touched the woman’s hand. “They never found her body, Mrs. DiPalma. Until they do, we don’t know that she’s dead.”

“But you think she is, don’t you? Everyone does — even my husband did. But I refused to accept it.” She looked straight at Frost. “Do you have children?”

“No, ma’am. But Detective Rizzoli does.”

Arlene looked at Jane. “A boy? A girl?”

“A little girl,” said Jane. “Three years old. And just like you, I’d never give up hope either, Mrs. DiPalma. Mothers never do. That’s why I want to find out what happened to Lizzie. I want you to have your answer.”

Arlene nodded and sat up straight. “Tell me how I can help.”

“Twenty years ago, when Lizzie vanished, the prime suspect was Martin Stanek. He was sent to prison for molesting children, but he was never found guilty of kidnapping your daughter.”

“The prosecutor told me she tried her best.”

“Did you attend the trial?”

“Of course. A number of the Apple Tree parents did.”

“So you heard the evidence. You were there when Martin Stanek testified.”

“I kept hoping he would confess on the stand. That he’d finally tell us what he did to her.”

“You believe Martin Stanek took your daughter?”

“Everyone thought so. The police, the prosecutors.”

“What about the other parents?”

“Holly’s parents certainly did.”

“Tell me about Holly Devine. What do you remember about her?”

Arlene shrugged. “Nothing in particular. A quiet girl. Pretty girl. Why do you ask?”

“Did she ever strike you as odd?”

“I didn’t know her well. She was a year older than Lizzie and in a different grade, so they weren’t friends.” She frowned at Jane. “Is there some reason you’re asking about her?”

“Holly Devine was the child who found your daughter’s beaded hat on the school bus. She was also the first child to accuse the Staneks of abuse. She started the whole chain of events that led to the Staneks being convicted and sent to prison.”

“Why is all this coming up now?”

“Because we’re wondering if Holly Devine told the truth. About any of it.”

That possibility seemed to stun Arlene and she gripped the armrests of her chair, clearly struggling to understand what this might mean. “You don’t think Holly had something to do with my daughter’s disappearance?”

“That possibility has been raised.”

“By whom?”

By a dead woman, thought Jane. By Cassandra Coyle, who’d conveyed her message from the grave, in the form of a horror movie. In Mr. Simian, the killer had not been the teacher, whom everyone suspected. Like Martin Stanek, the teacher in the movie was merely the distraction, the convenient scapegoat who drew everyone’s attention while in the shadows lurked the real killer: the wallflower.

It’s just Horror 101.

Arlene DiPalma shook her head. “No, I can’t imagine the girl hurting my daughter. Maybe that boy would do it, but why would Holly?”

“Boy?” Jane glanced at Frost, who looked equally bewildered. “What boy?”

“Billy Sullivan. Lizzie despised him. They weren’t even in the same grade at school — he was two years older than her. But she knew enough to stay far away from him.”

Jane rocked forward, her attention suddenly laser-sharp. Quietly, she asked, “What did Billy do to your daughter?”

Arlene sighed. “At first it seemed like normal schoolyard teasing and bullying. Kids do that sometimes, and my Lizzie was the sort of girl who refused to be a victim. She always stood up for herself, which only made Billy nastier to her. I don’t think he was used to not getting his way, and Lizzie wouldn’t give an inch. So he got more and more aggressive. He’d shove her at recess. Steal her lunch money. But he was clever about it, never doing it when anyone was watching. Since no one saw it happen, it was always Lizzie’s word against Billy’s. When I called his mother to complain, Susan didn’t believe it. Oh, her Billy was an angel . He was brilliant, and my Lizzie was nothing but a liar. Even when Lizzie came home one day with a bloody lip, Susan insisted her son didn’t do it.”

“Was this the incident on the bus? The reason they found traces of her blood?”

“Yes. Billy stuck out his foot and tripped her. She fell and cut herself. But again, it was Lizzie’s word against his.”

“Why did none of this come up during the trial?” asked Frost.

“It did, in a way. I told the court there was a reason why they found traces of Lizzie’s blood on the bus, but no one asked me why she cut her lip. And the prosecutor, Erica Shay, was furious with me for even sharing that information. She didn’t want to reveal anything that would hurt her case against Martin Stanek, because she was absolutely certain he abducted my daughter.”

“And do you still believe that?” asked Jane.

“I don’t know. I’m so confused now.” Arlene sighed again. “I just want her to come home. Dead or alive, I want my Lizzie home .”

Outside, the storm clouds that had darkened the sky all morning finally unleashed fat snowflakes that swirled into the sea. On a summer’s day, this would be a lovely place to lie on the beach or build sand castles. But today the view matched the atmosphere of gloom that hung so heavily inside this house.

Arlene at last managed to straighten again and look at Jane. “No one ever asked me about Billy before. No one seemed to care.”

“We care. We care about the truth.”

“Well, the truth is, Billy Sullivan was a nasty little shit.” She paused, seeming surprised at her own outburst. “There, I said it. I should have said it to his mother, not that she’d ever believe it. I mean, no one wants to think their child is born that way, but sometimes it’s obvious who the bad ones are. The kid who likes to hurt other children and then lies about it. The kid who steals. And yet the idiot parent doesn’t have a clue.” She paused. “Have you met Susan Sullivan?”

“We spoke to her after her son vanished.”

“I know it’s wrong to talk ill about any mother who’s lost her child, but Susan was part of the problem. She had an excuse for every bad thing Billy ever did. Did you know he once skinned a baby possum, just for fun? Lizzie told me he liked to cut open animals. He’d catch frogs in the pond, slice them open while they were still alive to watch their heart beating. If he was already like that as a boy, I can’t imagine what kind of man he turned into.”

“Did you keep in touch with Susan?”

“God, no. After the trial, I avoided her. Or maybe she was avoiding me. I heard through the grapevine that Billy went into finance. Imagine that, the perfect job for a weasel. He handled millions of dollars of other people’s money and bought his mother a great big house in Brookline. A vacation home in Costa Rica. At least he knew how to treat his own mother right.” She glanced out the window again, at the snowflakes swirling in the storm. “I know I should send Susan a note and tell her how sorry I am about what happened to Billy. She never bothered to send me a note about Lizzie, but still, it would be the right thing to do. After all, she did just lose her son.”

Jane and Frost looked at each other, the same thought on both their minds: Or did she?

My late father’s house is thick with the syrupy scent of lilies, and I’d like to throw open the windows and let the wintry air sweep it all outside, but that would not be the hospitable thing to do. Not when thirty-two guests are milling around the living and dining rooms, grazing off trays of appetizers. Everyone speaks in murmurs and feels the need to touch me, and I feel assaulted by all those comforting pats on the shoulder and squeezes on the arm. I respond with somber thank-yous and I even manage to produce a few pretty tears. Practice makes perfect. It’s not that I’m heartless about my father’s death; I truly do miss him. I miss the comfort of knowing there’s someone in the world who loves me and would do anything for me, as he did. To keep me safe, Daddy sacrificed his cancer-ridden body and his few remaining, if miserable, months of life. I doubt anyone else will ever be so devoted to me.