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"Did your mother get him treatment?"
"Hell no," she laughed. "My mother did the same fucking thing all over again. She said Alex and I were lying, that we had run away and gotten hurt by a stranger, and we were trying to pin it on Tom because we hated him and we wanted people to feel sorry for us."
Faith felt a sickness in the pit of her stomach, wondering how a mother could be so blind to her child's suffering.
Will asked, "Is that when you changed your names to Coldfield?"
"We changed them to Seward after what happened to Tom. It wasn't easy. There were bank accounts, all sorts of documents to file to make it legal. My dad started asking questions. He wasn't happy, because he actually had to do something, you know? Go down to the courthouse, get copies of birth certificates, fill out forms. They were in the middle of changing everything over to Seward when I ran away. I guess when they left Michigan, they changed it back to Coldfield. It's not like Oregon was following up on Tom. As far as they were concerned, his case was closed."
"Did you ever hear from Alex McGhee?"
"She killed herself." Pauline's voice was so cold it sent a chill down Faith's spine. "I guess she couldn't take it. Some women are like that."
Will asked, "You're sure your father didn't know what was going on?"
"He didn't want to know," Pauline answered. But there was no way of confirming this. Henry Coldfield had suffered a massive coronary upon hearing what had happened to his wife and son. He'd died en route to the hospital.
Will kept pressing. "Your father never noticed—"
"He traveled all the time. He was gone for weeks, sometimes as much as a whole month. And even when he was home, he was never really home. He was flying his plane or off hunting or playing golf or just doing whatever the hell he wanted to do." Pauline's tone got angrier with every word. "They had this kind of bargain, you know? She kept the house running, didn't ask him to help with anything, and he got to do whatever he wanted so long as he handed over his paycheck and didn't ask any questions. Nice life, huh?"
"Did your father ever hurt you?"
"No. He was never there to hurt me. We saw him at Christmas and Easter. That was about it."
"Why Easter?"
"I don't know. It was always special to my mother. She would dye eggs and hang up streamers and stuff. She would tell Tom the story of his birth, how he was special, how she had wanted a son so badly, how he'd made her life complete."
"Is that why you chose to run away on Easter?"
"I ran away because Tom was digging another hole in the backyard."
Faith gave her a moment to collect her thoughts. "This was in Ann Arbor?"
Pauline nodded, a faraway look in her eyes. "I didn't recognize him, you know?"
"When he abducted you?"
"It happened so fast. I was so damn happy to see Felix. I thought I'd lost him. And then my brain started to make the connection that it was Tom standing there, but it was too late by then."
"You recognized him?"
"I felt him. I can't describe it. I just knew with every part of my body that it was him." She closed her eyes for a few seconds. "When I came to in the basement, I could still feel him. I don't know what he did to me while I was passed out. I don't know what he did."
Faith suppressed a shudder at the thought. "How did he find you?"
"I think he always knew where I was. He's good at tracking people down, watching them, figuring out their habits. I guess I didn't make it too hard, using Alex's name like I did." She gave a humorless laugh. "He called me at work about a year and a half ago. Can you believe that? What are the odds that I'd take a call like that and it would be Tom on the other end?"
"Did you know it was him on the phone?"
"Fuck no. I would've grabbed Felix and run."
"What did he want when he called?"
"I told you. It was a cold call." She shook her head, disbelieving. "He told me about the shelter, that they would take donations and give blank receipts. We've got all these rich clients, and they give away their furniture to charity for the tax write-off. It makes them feel better about ditching a fifty-thousand-dollar living room set and buying an eighty-thousand-dollar one."
Faith couldn't even comprehend the numbers. "So, you decided to refer your clients to the shelter?"
"I was pissed at Goodwill. They give you a timeframe, like between ten and noon. Who can wait for that? My clients are millionaires. They can't sit around all morning waiting for some homeless dude to show up. Tom said the shelter would make an exact appointment and be there on time. And they always were. They were friendly and clean, which, trust me, is saying a lot. I told everybody to use them." She realized what she had said. "I told everybody."
"Including the women on your Internet board?"
She kept silent.
Faith told her what they had found out over the last few days. "Anna Lindsey's firm started giving the shelter legal advice six months ago. Olivia Tanner's bank became a major donor last year. Jackie Zabel called the shelter to pick up things from her mother's house. They all heard about the shelter somewhere."
"I didn't . . . I didn't know."
They still hadn't managed to break into the chat room. The site was too sophisticated, and cracking the passwords no longer had a priority for the FBI, since their guy was already sitting in jail. Faith needed the confirmation, though. She had to hear it from Pauline. "You posted about the shelter, didn't you?"
Pauline still did not answer.
"Tell me," Faith said, and for some reason, the request worked.
"Yeah. I posted it."
Faith hadn't realized that she had been holding her breath. She let it out in a slow stream. "How did Tom know they all had eating disorders?"
Pauline looked up. Some of her color seeped back into her cheeks. "How did you know?"
Faith thought about the question. They knew because they had investigated the women's lives, just as methodically as Tom Coldfield had. He'd followed them around, spied on their most intimate moments. And none of them had known he was doing it.
Pauline asked, "Is the other woman all right? The one I was with."
"Yes." Olivia Tanner was well enough to refuse to talk to the police.
"She's a tough bitch."
"So are you." Faith told her, "It might help to talk to her."
"I don't need help."
Faith didn't bother to argue.
Pauline said, "I knew Tom would find me eventually. I kept training myself. Making sure I could go without food. Making sure I could last." She explained, "When it was me and Alex, he would hurt whoever screamed the loudest, whoever broke first. I made sure it wasn't me. That's how I helped myself."
Will asked, "Your father never asked why your mother wanted to change your names and move?"
"She told him it was to give Tom a fresh start—give us all a fresh start." She gave a humorless laugh, directing her words toward Faith. "It's always about the boys, isn't it? Mothers and their sons. Fuck the daughters. It's the sons they really love."
