Carmen doesn’t break eye contact, but her bottom lip quivers, slightly.
“I hate that you’re going through this. I do. I’m doing everything I can to help you and Eileen. But you have to understand, when she found out about the cancer, she had no way of knowing an arrest was imminent. She simply wanted to wait until Ava’s party was over. I understand now it seems you’re being hit with one blow after another, but, at the time, she was doing what she thought was right.”
I know Carmen’s talking about the cancer diagnosis, but the same logic applies to all my mother’s poor decisions. She took me, hid me, raised me… because she thought it was right? Did she ever stop to think about what was wrong? No, she was more concerned with her own feelings. They were more important than mine. Or Amelia’s.
“You said there was an update,” I say, steering Carmen back toward the case.
“When they arrested Eileen, they took her fingerprints and ran them against what was found at the New Hutton crime scene. They also ran them against the fingerprints taken from Sarah Paxton when she was arrested. They all match, which means—”
“Which means Mom is definitely the person who attacked Bruce.” My body closes in on itself. Ever since Mom admitted she was Sarah Paxton, I’ve feared this, but having it confirmed is another type of torture.
“Not necessarily. It means she was there. It doesn’t mean she attacked anyone.”
“What are you trying to prove, Carmen? I’m not a juror. I’m your friend. You don’t have to try and spin this.”
She sighs. “It’s not good, that’s for sure,” she admits, painfully.
I lean over the table, propping my chin on my hand. “What else?”
“You know they’ve searched her apartment and the restaurant. They’re also trying to track down people who might have known your mom as Sarah Paxton, which will be difficult considering how much time has passed.”
“Okay.”
“All this means they’re getting closer to asking you for a DNA sample.” She tilts her head down and looks up, waiting.
“How long?”
“Possibly a week. Maybe more. I’ve been trying to stall them while Eileen’s in the hospital, but we knew this would happen eventually.”
“When it shows I’m not her biological daughter—”
“Then we’ll take it step by step.”
“But what will happen?”
“Well, she’s already been arrested. But obviously that will become the crux of their case. We’ll have to try and prove Eileen was somehow granted permission to take you, or that she had just cause for doing so.”
“Proving just cause for stealing an infant?” I look at Ava, who’s smiling, globs of pureed sweet potatoes dribbling from her lips. “That’s a stiff one, Carmen.”
“Like I said, we’ll take this one step at a time. If it comes to a conviction, our goal will be to get Eileen the lightest sentence possible.”
“But if they can prove I’m not her daughter—”
“We’ll show that she was still an adequate mother. That she supported you, loved you. You’re Eileen’s biggest defense.”
Mom gave me a good life. Because of that, she should have my unbending devotion. A week ago, she would have. But I won’t try to justify her crimes or help her avoid punishment. I won’t be made to feel like an accessory after the fact to my own abduction.
“What about the Parkers?”
Carmen whips her head in my direction. “What about them?”
“Will they run my DNA against theirs? Try to prove I’m Baby Caroline?”
“Eventually, yes. But I’m not saying any of this to scare you. I’m simply preparing you for the inevitable.”
“What if we just went ahead and volunteered a sample? We could get this over with.”
“Like I said, you are Eileen’s greatest defense. There’s no sense in volunteering information that could jeopardize the case.” Carmen’s phone starts ringing from inside her bag. She grabs it, glances at the screen and holds up a finger. “This is Rick. Give me a second.”
She walks down the hallway leading toward the bedrooms. I free Ava from her high chair and bring her into the living room. She begins contentedly playing with toys on the floor in her playpen.
I look outside, watching as a trio of seagulls fly past my window. Amelia’s offer still lingers in my mind. How nice it would be to simply know the truth. Hard revelations are still to come, but I’d rather get this first one out of the way. Start recognizing who I really am. Start accepting the person I never got the chance to be.
“What the hell is this?”
Carmen’s yell startles me. She walks into the living room, but her eyes are still staring at her phone.
“What is it? Is it Mom? Is she okay?”
“Now I know why you’re asking questions about the Parkers,” she says, holding out her phone for me to see a picture. It was taken by the pier, only a few steps away from Crabby’s Coffee. “What the hell are you doing talking to Amelia Parker?”
23 MarionNow
Carmen’s anger is building, threatening to spew. She shakes the phone in her hand, begging me to take it. I do.
The picture accompanies an article written by a national online news outlet. I’m sitting on the beach with Amelia. This was taken on the first day we
