Part Five

Disguises

The children dressed up all the time, pretending to be someone else, practicing for life, which is exactly why children play games. Poppy wore that little sequined jacket from the dress-up box—it went well with her hair; Blake pretended to be a soldier; Sorrel was a princess. Charley, well, Charley’s always herself. Izzy was beautiful, and that was a disguise in itself.

It’s quite funny to think that while we were admiring the children’s disguises, we were busy making our own: Melly and her pretty scarves, Eve putting on makeup at the barbecue and becoming someone else. I wore glitter, disguising damage, like Melly. And all the time, Paul and Martin were disguising themselves as family men who loved their wives, though I’m not saying they were the same, I’m not saying that at all.

The children’s motives were different. They weren’t trying to hide; it was the opposite. Poppy was desperate for friends, she wanted to be noticed and it worked—Izzy noticed her. Blake wanted adventure, he found more than he bargained for. Sorrel? I think she craved power, she had so little; it breaks my heart that she dressed as a princess for her adventure when all the time she was walking into a trap. At least she left us a clue.

13. November

Melissa

Melissa’s home isn’t hers anymore; it’s not even her kitchen. It feels different in here without Lina, who made it a gentler place. The police snap on every light and the shadows disappear.

“Normally we would ask these questions at the station but speed is crucial; anything you can tell us now could be put to immediate use.” Detective Gordon gestures to the kitchen stool. Melissa sits down facing him across the island. Eve is next to her, Grace the other side; they’re standing close as if on guard.

Detective Gordon sits too but remains taller than Melissa; one of those men whose upper body is disproportionately large compared to the leg length; his double chin bulges over his collar as he looks down at her. “Could your friends wait outside?” he asks, though it doesn’t sound like a question. “Normally speaking—”

“Don’t fucking normalize this.” Grace leans forward, resting her hands on the island. Detective Gordon blinks up at her. “We don’t care how many times you’ve dealt with a missing child. None of this is normal for us.”

“I understand that you are close—”

“That’s right.” The stool scrapes loudly as Grace sits down next to Eve.

“In which case you can stay in a supportive capacity for now; there may be questions you can help with too. I will request your departure when appropriate; your cooperation at that point will not be optional.” Detective Gordon looks down at his notes, then up again; his eyes find Eve’s. “Let’s start with Sorrel’s tiara. Do you know when she wore it last?”

Eve’s hand is open on her lap. The tiara has already been passed to forensics, but Melissa can see that its little paste stones have pressed blood-lined indentations into her palm. Eve shakes her head. “I’ve been trying to think if she was wearing it when she came to my room after lunch, but all I can remember is holding her, the warmth of her . . .”