V placed her hand on top of Nic’s. “Oh, you poor thing. But Daisy—well, that’s not the same situation. She moved to the city. She wrote to her boyfriend, too. And thank God! That poor kid. Went to Boston. Harassed my sister there, demanding to search her house looking for Daisy. Put up flyers all over the city. Did the same in Hartford. Any place he thought she might have gone. You know, he even went up to this summer camp she used to go to.”

“Summer camp?” Nic asked.

“I told you she was resourceful. She got herself a scholarship. Up in Woodstock. Some camp for gifted kids. They read plays and poetry all summer—can you imagine? She came back full of herself. Quoting things from people we’d never heard of, making us feel stupid. But it was hard to blame her. Daisy wanted a better life and she was willing to work for it. She said some of the kids at that camp had more money than everyone in this town put together. She got a real taste of it.”

Nic looked at the woods now, through the window. It was dirty, like everything in this room. This house. Piles of clothing. Piles of books. Piles of old magazines. Piles of canned food with bright orange value stickers. V was a hoarder, and Nic couldn’t blame her after the way she’d grown up. Still, there was nothing here that was going to help Nic find her mother.

She took a moment to be respectful, but then got up to leave. Kurt followed.

“Thanks for talking to me,” she said.

“Yeah—thanks,” Kurt echoed.

V got up as well. “My sister left ten years ago. Can’t see how it had anything to do with your mother.”

They walked to the door. Said their goodbyes.

Nic was about to leave, but then she stopped.

“Is her boyfriend still around?” she asked.

“Of course,” V said. She looked at Kurt curiously. “Everybody knows him.”

Nic also looked at Kurt now.

“Who is he?” she asked.

It was Kurt who answered. “Roger Booth.”

Chapter Fifteen

Day fourteen

My mother used to say that you can only be as happy as your least happy child. She said there was no getting around this if you were a good and loving parent. She said that’s why she only had one child. Once she had me and came to understand this about being a parent, she didn’t want to further reduce her chances of having a happy life.

My mother was a pessimist.

She never got around to telling me what happens when a child dies. And when you are the one who killed her.