I nodded, and even as I said the next five words, I prayed that I was lying. “Yes. I’m just like you.”

13

We ended up sitting on the sectional sofa with her between us, hungry to talk. To me at least. Her knees were angled my way, her back to Marshall. He shot me a look over her head, warning me to keep my mouth shut as questions came spraying out of her.

“The people who took Geoff, you think they did it again? To you? Why do you think that? Who are they? How do you know?”

Her hands clutched at my forearm, but I let Marshall answer. I thought he’d wring my neck if I didn’t. I wished I could tell him not to worry. I’d dropped my assigned character, but I wasn’t me. I was some other frightened mother, fictional. One who’d never spoken to the mother or killed a man while the daughter watched from some dark bridge or alcove. One who did not think of Robert and fall apart. One who definitely did not know what had happened to this woman’s son.

I didn’t regret telling her something closer to the truth. She’d been kicking us out, and without the Wilkersons I couldn’t see a way to get Robert back. Still, if she told her lawyer that there was a parallel case, he’d come looking. We didn’t want any kind of investigation, considering our plans for the daughter, but I wasn’t worried. How would they find us? She was so drunk she wasn’t likely to remember my name, and I hadn’t said we were from Georgia. They would not know where to start.

“There are parallels between the cases that point to the same perpetrator,” Marshall said.

“How old is your son? Like preschool age? Is he blond?” she asked, still focusing on me.

“The boys are similar, yes.” Marshall spoke fast and loud, in case I thought of answering. “The method of abduction was the same as well.”

She finally turned to him. “I’m shocked you found us. You must be good at your job. Are you from here? The national news didn’t pick up our story, which our lawyer says is lucky. Lucky! Even he thinks that I did something to my son. And now the trail is cold, our PI says, and then he bills us again. I guess Adam can goddamn well afford it.” She waved an angry hand at the house, as if showing us all the things Adam could afford. “Adam is the one who said he thinks the guy is milking us. What do you think? I have these nightmares where our investigator knows where Geoff is but he won’t tell us because then we wouldn’t pay him anymore. Do you think if you find her boy, you might find Geoff?”