Page 14 of The Woman I’ve Become

That might be the one consistency in the case. No one involved in the investigation could help either. Some part of me will always believe that one indisputable point says all I need to know about the man watching me now.

With all the resources utilized, how could he know nothing at all?

But then that’s my cynical side talking.

“Just promise me you’ll call,” Rick urges, “if you see anything or anyone that’s out of place. Don’t hesitate, Julia. My kids are out of the house, and Meredith found someone new, so I’m available any hour of the day or night.”

I frown at this news. I had no idea he and his wife were no longer together. Although I’m not surprised. The agent had a bit of a reputation even back then. “I’m sorry to hear about Meredith.”

He waves off the subject. “She deserves a man who puts her first. I could never put anything but work first. Just ask my kids. Even after I retired from the bureau, I threw myself into consulting. I just can’t not be working.”

I remind my face to manufacture an appropriate smile—something I do a lot of these days. “I get it. And don’t worry, I have your number in my contacts. I’ll call.”

“Fair warning, I’ll be checking in from time to time even if you don’t call.”

I can’t hold back a soft laugh. “Of course you will. We have homemade pizza. Would you like to stay for dinner? Maybe some wine would be nice.”

His smile widens, crinkles the corners of his eyes. “I would love to.”

We stand, he takes my arm and wraps it around his, squeezing my hand just so as he does. Like old friends who never have enough time to catch up, we journey leisurely to the kitchen.

Except we are not friends. We are surviving participants of something terrible . . . something that left the kind of mark that cannot be erased.

I wonder if he knew the real story about me and what happened, if he would still be so pleasant and helpful. Funny, it’s so easy to see now just how many people’s lives were impacted by the case. Lost lives. Missing women. Broken families and marriages. And all the lies. So many, many lies. The twists of truth that directed the narrative then still do now. Do those watching the news ever stop and consider just how different the truth is from what they actually see and hear?

This is precisely why if I can help it, no one will ever know my truth. The adage that the truth will set you free is the biggest lie of all.

8

I watch Olivia sleep. We went through the usual ritual of reading her current favorite book. I find it incredible that just a few short years ago I cradled her in my arms and fed her from my own breasts. Now she is learning to read and just growing up so fast.

She is so beautiful. She has her father’s hair and eyes. Her complexion is not so fair as mine. Every day I am amazed at what a happy child she is. Somehow I have managed to be a far better mother than I ever would have dreamed. Far better than my mother, for sure. Olivia has never known anything less than patience and kindness. Phillip treats her like a princess, and she never has to worry about anything. The very best and most prestigious schools as well as whatever she needs along the way will be at her disposal.

I never expected to have a child. Some part of me thought I couldn’t after all that happened. If I’m honest, I didn’t want a child. I wasn’t sure I could properly care for one. Somehow it all worked out. Really, I credit my success to Eleanor. She showed me how to do so many things. I owed her so much. I will do right by her memory.

I close Olivia’s door, careful to leave it open a crack just as she likes. Her little owl night-light provides a soft golden glow. The night-light and her beloved stuffed bear go everywhere with us.

There are so many things I want for her beyond money and education. Love and happiness are far more important. I am determined to keep those values instilled in her.

But first we must survive what’s coming.

Since Olivia was born, deep in my gut, dread of this moment has simmered. Before that I gave the concern little thought. If it happened, it happened. But everything is different now. The continued passage of day after day without incident has provided a false sense of security I should never have allowed. I should have been more alert to potential trouble. More keenly perceptive of those around me. In my defense, the accident and losing Eleanor have distracted me the past three months. But I’m clear now. I know what I must do.

As I move toward my room, I glance at the door to Acacia’s room. She appeared to enjoy Rick’s visit. Certainly more than I did. The number of questions she asked surprised me. She was almost giddy with enthusiasm listening to his tales of fighting crime. Granted, he was laying on the charm pretty thick. Older men can be appealing for many reasons.

In my room, I close the door and lean against it. I am so tired, and yet I feel restless and somehow jittery. With good reason, I consider. This has been a day, two days, in fact.

Acacia brought my things to my room after dinner. Rick insisted on helping her carry in our luggage. More of that gentlemanly charm. The empty bags stand next to the closet now since Acacia has put everything away.

I drift to the dresser and pull a nightgown from the top drawer. Once I’ve changed and brushed my teeth, I stare at my reflection and reluctantly force myself to remove the makeup. I’m not a fan but I’ve found it’s necessary to present the expected facade. Particularly during something like Talia Brant’s visit. Other people have certain expectations, and I recognize the need to meet those in order to maintain the proper perception.

Perception is everything.

I barely reach the bed before I collapse. I am so very tired. I haven’t regained my stamina as quickly as I had hoped. The physical therapy helps, but I haven’t been able to find my way back to my usual runs and long walks since the accident. Soon, I hope.

A shudder quakes through me with another shot of adrenaline. What is with this agitated feeling?

I think of my cell phone downstairs and the possibility that it needs a charge. That, too, will just have to wait until morning. Stairs continue to be a bit difficult, but I’m getting there. Who knew multiple pelvis fractures could cause so much trouble with walking and standing and even lying down.