Ricky did not back down once he got his answer. If anything, it snapped off the leash, and he went after poor Dr. Escoda with everything he had. There was no shouting, no threatening, no intimidation. But that was all implied in his voice, in his expression, in the very way he held himself on that chair. You want us gone? Answer my questions.

He asked whether there was any way the damage could have been repaired. She said no, and he pursued every loophole there. Could the condition have been less serious than her father thought? What were the medical procedures at the time? What about experimental procedures? Even now, twenty years later, could it have been cured? She was adamant it could not. He had her check my back. There wasn’t even a pucker. My spine was perfect, my skin unblemished.

Was it possible that somehow, after the Larsens left her father’s care, something happened to their daughter and I replaced her? Dr. Escoda stared at Ricky as if he was crazy. He made her answer the question. No, it was not possible. Her father and his nurse had seen my photo following the arrest. I was the child they’d treated. To be sure, Ricky had her bring the file of the girl with spina bifida and compare every identifying factor in it. Hair color, eye color, blood type . . . it matched down to a tiny scar on the back of my elbow that had needed two stitches.

I was the girl in that file. The girl who couldn’t walk. Who’d been sentenced to life in a wheelchair. Who’d spent two years of her life in and out of doctors’ offices and hospitals and then been taken out of her doctor’s care. Who reappeared, six months later, running and jumping and playing like any other toddler . . . after her parents murdered six people.

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

I needed to speak to Todd. Except, apparently, I couldn’t.

“Bullshit,” I said to the prison clerk, my temper flaring as he smirked. “I don’t know what’s going on, but there is no way in hell my father is refusing to see me.”

He shrugged, and kept that satisfied little smirk still playing on his lips. Ricky stood behind me. When I looked back, his expression agreed this was complete and total bullshit, but he had no more idea what to do about it than I did.

“I’m going to contact my lawyer,” I said. “See if he can straighten this out.”

“No need,” the man said. “He’s already here.”

“What?”

The man threw open the door of the tiny room where we’d been brought to “discuss” the matter. As it opened, I heard Gabriel arguing with a guard. He caught sight of me and strode our way.

Gabriel came in and argued the matter, but he got no further than I had. Finally the clerk walked out.