Харлан Кобен - The Boy from the Woods

Pia still looked off, but a small smile came to her face. “It was voluntary.”

“Because you would have been brought up on charges?”

“Ah,” Pia said, with a small nod, “you spoke to Bernard.”

“You should be in jail.”

From behind them: “Mrs. Goldman?”

It was a young woman with a stroller.

“It’s time to take Nathan for his walk in the park.”

Pia turned toward the woman. Her face broke into a wide smile. “You start, Angie. I’ll catch up to you by the Conservatory Water.”

The young woman pulled the stroller away and left.

Hester tried to keep the horror out of her voice. “You have a son?”

“Nathan. He’s ten months old. And yes, he’s biologically mine and my husband’s.”

“I thought you couldn’t have children.”

“That’s what I thought. But of course, that’s what Bernard told me. Turns out the problems were with him.” She tilted her head. “Ms. Crimstein?”

Hester waited.

“I never abused her.”

“Naomi,” Hester said. “Her name is Naomi.”

“Bernard made that all up. He’s a liar and worse. I should have known what he was right away. Isn’t that what they say? But I didn’t. Or maybe I’m weak. Bernard abused me — verbally, emotionally, physically.”

“Did you tell anyone?”

“You sound skeptical.”

“Don’t worry about how I sound,” Hester said, a little more sharply than she intended. “Did you tell anyone?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Do you really need to hear another abused-woman tale, Ms. Crimstein?” Pia smiled and tilted her head, and Hester wondered how many men had been smitten by that simple move. “Bernard can be very charming, very convincing. He’s also extremely manipulative. Did he tell you the hot-water story? That’s his favorite. Of course, if it had been true, she” — this time, Pia stopped herself — “I mean, Naomi would have gone to the hospital, wouldn’t she?”

Fair point , Hester thought.

“I don’t want to give you my whole life story. I came from a small town. I was... I guess the word is ‘blessed’ with a figure that drew too much attention. Everyone told me I should be a model. So I tried it. In truth, I was too short to make it big. I also wasn’t anorexic enough. But I got some jobs, mostly in lingerie ads. And then I fell for the wrong man. Bernard was good to me at first, but then his insecurities ate him alive. He was sure I had to be cheating on him. I’d come from a shoot and he’d ask a million questions — did any men talk to you, did anyone flirt with you, come on, someone had to have flirted with you, did you smile at them first, did you lead them on, why were you late?”

Pia stopped, took her sunglasses off, wiped her eyes.

“So you left?” Hester asked.

“Yes, I left. I had no choice. I got help. A lot of it. When I was back on my feet a little, I met Harry, my husband. You know the rest of the story.”

Hester made her voice as gentle as possible. “Has Naomi been in touch with you?”

“Why do you care?”

“It’s a long story, but I will never betray Naomi. Do you hear me? Whatever you tell me, you can trust me to do whatever I can to help.”

“But if I tell you,” Pia said, “I’d be betraying Naomi’s trust too.”

“You can trust me.”

“Do you work for Bernard?”

“No.”

“Swear?”

“I care about your daughter, not your ex-husband. Yes, I swear.”

Pia slipped the sunglasses back onto her face. “Naomi called me.”

“When?”

“A few days ago.”

“What did she say?”

“She said someone working for Bernard might call me again asking for her. Like you did last time. She said not to say anything.”

“Why would she say that?”

“I think... I think she planned on running away from her father. She thought that maybe if people thought she was with me, it would throw him off the scent.”

“And you were okay with that? With her running away?”

“I was happy about it. She needed to escape from him.”

“I don’t understand,” Hester said. “You say he’s abusive. Your ex, I mean.”

“You have no idea.”

“And yet,” Hester said, trying to keep her voice even, “you left your daughter with him?”

She took off the sunglasses again. “I’ve gone through a lot of therapy. You have no idea how much, how weak I was, how troubled. There was nothing I could have done. And there was a hard truth I had to face, Ms. Crimstein — in order for me to recover and heal and move on.”

“What hard truth is that?”

“Bernard was right about one thing. I didn’t want to adopt her in the first place. The hard truth is — and it took me a long time to forgive myself for this — I couldn’t connect to Naomi. Maybe it was because she wasn’t my blood. Maybe at the time, I just wasn’t cut out to be a mother. Maybe it was my chemistry physically reacting to hers or the bad situation with her father. I don’t know. But I could never really connect with the girl.”

The bile rose in Hester’s throat. She swallowed it back down. “So you just left Naomi with him.”

“I had no choice. You have to see that.”

Hester pulled back her chair and stood. “If you hear from Naomi, have her call me immediately.”

“Ms. Crimstein?”

Hester looked down at her.

“Who do you believe?”

“You mean you or Bernard?”

“Yes.”

“Does it make a difference?”

“I think it does, yes.”

“I don’t,” Hester said. “You either abused your daughter or you selfishly left her behind. Either way, you abandoned a little girl to a man you just described as a monster. Even when you ‘recovered’ and ‘healed,’ even when you got married and moved into this ritzy town house, you just left that poor girl alone with a damaged man. You didn’t protect her. You didn’t think about her. You just ran away, Pia — and you left Naomi behind.”

Pia kept her head down, her eyes on the table.

“So in the end, I don’t care if he’s lying or you are. You are scum either way, and I hope you never have a moment’s peace.”

When Dash and Delia Maynard saw their son’s severed finger, they reacted in two very different ways.

Dash dropped to the ground, totally collapsed, like a marionette with all its strings cut at the same time. His fall was so sudden that Wilde jumped back a step, careful not to jar the finger from its perch atop the ice pack. Not that the jarring would have any effect. If that was the case, the fact that Wilde had just rushed back from that spot in the woods, more sprinting than jogging, would surely have been the culprit.

Delia froze. For a few moments, she didn’t move, didn’t even react to her husband’s fall. She just stared down at the finger. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, her face began to cave. Her head fell to one side. Her lips quivered, her eyes blinked. She reached out toward the finger, a mother wanting to offer some kind of comfort. Wilde pulled the cooler back, not wanting her to touch or contaminate it.

“The EMTs will be arriving soon,” Wilde told her as gently as he could. He glanced at the gate behind him. “They’ll do their best to preserve it.”

When he closed the cooler, Delia let out a moan. Wilde handed the cooler to Rola and nodded. She took it outside the gate for the ambulance. There was, Rola had already learned, a decent chance that the finger could be reattached if they ran the proper medical protocols.

On the grass, Dash pushed up with his arms and made his way to his knees.

Delia finally spoke. “What do they want? What do they want?” Her voice started off in pure monotone, but slowly grew louder, more frenzied. “We gave them the tapes. What do they want from us? What do they want?”