“I'm sorry, but I'm really not understanding why I'm up here with you. We already talked about this. You know everything I do," she sighs.
"You're right. We did talk before. But there were some things I didn't know then. Don't you want to know what happened to your daughter?"
"Of course, I do," she says.
"Then just talk to me a little bit more. I'm just trying to piece a couple of things together," I tell her.
She thinks about it for a second, then lets out a breath and nods.
"Fine. Go ahead."
"Thanks," I say. "That morning you had breakfast with your daughter and husband, right?"
"Yes," she says. "Oatmeal."
"After all this time, you still remember that."
"My child was abducted and murdered that day," Carrie says. "I remember everything."
"Except where she was when you were rinsing the bathing suits," I say.
Her eyes darken.
"She was supposed to be with Travis," she says. "I've never changed that story."
I nod, holding up my hands to relent to her.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to suggest anything. I just want to make sure I have all the details right,” I protest.
“It's fine,” she says. “Yes, we had oatmeal.”
“Anything on it?”
“I had strawberries,” she says. “Violet had brown sugar and cream.”
“Violet didn't have any strawberries?” I ask.
Her jaw sets, and she continues to stare in front of her as we walk through the trees. She's a few steps ahead of me, and I watch as she maneuvers through the undergrowth.
“No,” she says.
“That's right,” I say. “She's allergic. That was in your interview.”
“Yes,” she says. “She was allergic to strawberries. I found out when she was just a baby.”
“But Travis didn't know,” I point out.
She shakes her head, her lips pressed together.
“No,” she says. “He didn't. Travis wasn't around when Violet was a baby. That summer we were still kind of trying to get used to being a family. We were happy. Don't get me wrong. But there was definitely a shift. And both of us felt it.”
“What do you mean, a shift?” I ask.
“I was alone throughout my pregnancy, and when Violet was a baby. I didn't have anybody to scoop me up and help me. I didn't really feel ready to completely let go of that relationship with her. I had built up our life together, and we were already in a rhythm by the time Travis came back into our lives. That was a challenge. And she adored him. They spent all their time together. Maybe too much time.”
“Were you ever jealous of her?” I ask.
She laughed. “Of course, I was. But he was envious of me, too. We were trying so hard to figure things out. I thought we had a really amazing future together. But it was really hard to watch her bond with him so much. And in ways that I felt she didn't bond with me. I could try to get her to do something for hours and she wouldn't do it. But he would suggest it once, and she was willing to try. Or I would tell her not to do something, but she would listen to him instead. But we got through it. And I was really looking forward to what was ahead.”
We come to a stop, and I look around us.
“Carrie, how did we end up here?” I ask.
She looks around and the color drains out of her face when she realizes where we’re standing.
“You told me where we were going,” she attempts.
I shake my head.
“No, I didn't. That was on purpose.”
“Then you were leading me,” she continues.
“No,” I say. “I stayed behind you the entire time. I just walked us out onto the right path. You took it from there.”
“Is it all that unusual?” Carrie asks, sounding more exasperated by the moment. “This is where my daughter died. I think I would know where it is.”
I look up at the cavern over our heads, then back at her.
“But you've done at least four interviews in which you said you didn't even realize the cavern existed, and that you had never been and had no intention to go to it. You said you never wanted to see the place where she sat alone. So, how did we end up here?”
She hesitates, shifting her weight on her feet as she does everything she can not to look at me.
“Come on,” I say.
“Where are we going?” she asks.
“Up there,” I point. “I think you should see it.”
“No,” she says.
“Come on,” I repeat.
She reluctantly follows me up onto the rocks, and we stop just outside the entrance to the cavern.
“Why are you doing this to me?” she asks, tears starting to silently stream down her face. “I don't want to be where my daughter died.”
“You aren't,” I tell her calmly. “This isn't where she died. Just where her body was found. A lot of people have looked at this and said they think that she must have just wandered into the woods. Some other people say that she was attacked by somebody and they stored her here. What do you think?”
“I thought she was killed by the same person as the others,” she says.
“Before we knew there was anyone else,” I say. “What did you think happened to her?”
“I don't know,” Carrie says, getting emotional. “I figured somebody must have taken her and this is where they left her.”
“You want to know what I think?” I ask.
“What?” she asks.
“This isn't a place a stranger leaves somebody. She wasn't dumped here. She was very carefully placed here. This was meant to protect her. Whoever put her here knew she was dead, but still wanted her to be safe. That's a sign of love, not violence.”
“What's your point?” she
