“Thank you,” she said for what felt like the hundredth time. “Do you think I could see my uncle?”
He stared at her for a long moment. “Are you sure that’s what you want?”
She nodded. “Absolutely sure.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Bailey stared at her reflection in the thick, bulletproof glass between the visitor’s stall, where she was seated, and the empty prisoner’s stall. She had never visited anyone in jail before. Really, she’d never even known anyone who had ever served time. She waited but had no idea how long it would take before she would have to face her Uncle Patrick. She didn’t have a plan or a script. Was there ever a plan for a situation like this? How do you plan for a visit with your uncle, who also happens to be your kidnapper? “Ugh…God,” she sighed and rested her head in her hands.
When the phone rang, she jerked her head up and faced Patrick. He didn’t look any different than the last time she’d seen him, the day after her mother’s—Helen’s—funeral.
“Good morning, Bailey,” he said, trying for a smile.
She nodded into the phone, glad he could see her so she wouldn’t have to make a sound right away. She cleared her throat and said, “How are you?”
He laughed. He actually laughed at her. “Well, Bailey, I’ve had better days.”
This pushed her toward anger. She couldn’t help it. Her life had been turned upside down, and she wasn’t that quick to forgive. “Yeah, well, you’ve had twenty-eight years of good days and freedom when you shouldn’t have. Be grateful for the life you’ve been able to live, and for the time you had with your family.”
He grimaced. “I am, Bailey. I thank God every day.” His face dropped into a frown. “I understand why you’re upset, and out of respect for you, I won’t attempt to defend myself.”
She nodded but didn’t say anything.
“I owe you honesty and the chance to ask whatever questions you have, and I’ll give you that.”
“Did she suffer? My mother, Theresa Spatz?” Bailey couldn’t help it. She had many questions, but she couldn’t get Theresa out of her head since she’d learned the truth.
He looked her in the eye and said, “No. She was killed on impact.”
“Are you sure? How can you be?”
“I’m sure, sweetheart. I’m sorry about the accident, and rest assured, we certainly would’ve called for help if she wasn’t already deceased.” He looked her steadily in the eye. “We’re not heartless murderers, despite what everyone wants to think.”
“What kept you from calling the police? If it really was an accident, why didn’t you call nine-one-one?”
“Ernie was driving. After the accident, he was petrified—overwrought with guilt and sorrow.” Patrick’s eyes glassed over. “We’d been drinking. We were cowards, or I should say, I was a coward. Helen and I convinced him to leave. Helen insisted we take you with us in fear you’d be hurt or too cold if we left you behind.”
“That’s such bullshit. You know that, right?” She shook her head. “She saw an opportunity, and she took it. Period. There was nothing noble about the decision to take me after killing my mother.”
She’d had several days to think about her mother and father’s guilt in the crime that gained them a child. She couldn’t deny her father had been a gentle man. She couldn’t even remember a time when he raised his voice, much less hurt someone. She remembered her father very well, and she specifically remembered his heavy heart, his constant need to apologize for anything and everything. She remembered his sadness and his anxiety. It was only now that she understood it. However, that did not excuse him from guilt. He could have stopped it. He could’ve not taken her. He could have stood up to Helen, but he chose not to.
“You’re right. Helen’s excuse at the time was that she didn’t want to leave you behind because you could be hurt, but in the end, I think you and I can agree she had other intentions.”
“What about you? What the hell were you thinking?”
He blinked rapidly, as if trying to think it through, then said, “Honestly, I was scared. Explaining the actions of a twenty-two-year-old kid twenty-eight years later…well, that’s not easy.”
“Try,” she said.
“I don’t remember what I was thinking…or that I was thinking at all. One minute, I was puking into a bag in the back seat of the car, and the next, I was standing next to Theresa Spatz’s lifeless body on the street. What do I remember? I remember being scared shitless. I didn’t know what to do. You were in a stroller some distance away from Theresa. I don’t know how, but thinking back on it now, I assume she pushed you out of the way. Helen snatched you up, folded up the stroller, told Ernie to store it in the trunk, and herded us back into the car. Then she told Ernie to drive. As scared as I was, I did what she told me to do. So did Ernie. When my head cleared some, I realized Helen knew exactly what we’d done. She knew exactly what she was doing when she took you.” He lowered his eyes. “For years, Bailey, years and years, I wished I could do it all again and make the right decisions, but honestly, I don’t remember making the decision to take you.”
“You could’ve changed the situation if you would’ve just spoken up. Surely, it was only a matter of time before you realized my parents were students at your school. You could’ve told him.”
He nodded, his head bowed. “I know. I deserve to be here. I’m a coward. While I don’t remember making the decision to let Helen take you, I do remember making the decision to let her keep you, and that
