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“’Course not. The lawyers said there was too much to cross-examine me on. I wanted to. I would have been convincing, too. I thought about that a lot in prison. Regrets keep you company in there. I paid a fortune to private investigators. The best lead came from that flower delivery man who reported seeing a man in a yellow slicker and Batman baseball cap sitting in a van across the street from my house.”
“And?”
“And we never found him.”
“So you wish you would have testified.”
“I didn’t know how it would . . . stay with me. People think I’m a monster.”
“Is that why you’re here? To use Alice—I’m sorry, Brittany—to prove your innocence?”
He gazed at her; there was no smile on his face now, no hint of it in his eyes. He looked as honest as a man with a deeply troubled past could look. “When the world sees that she’s alive, they’ll have to question all of it.”
“But she’s already been so hurt.”
“Ah,” he said quietly, sadly. “So have I.”
“But she’s a child.”
“My child,” he reminded her, and at that, she saw past the regret, past the sadness, to a wounded man who would do anything to have his way.
“I don’t think you understand how traumatized she’s been. When we found her, she was practically wild. She couldn’t talk or—”
“I’ve read the newspaper accounts and watched the tapes. Why do you think I’m talking to you? I know your sister saved Brittany. But she’s my daughter. You have to know what that means. I’ll get the best help for her. I promise you.”
“My sister is the best, that’s what I’m trying to tell you. If you love Alice—”
He stood up. “I should leave now. I thought if you knew how much I love my daughter, you’d be a cop. But you’re Julia’s sister, aren’t you? This is one more place I won’t find justice.”
Ellie knew she’d gone too far in questioning his love for his daughter. “You’ll ruin her,” she said quietly.
“I’m sorry you feel that way, Chief Barton. I truly am.” He walked over to the door, yanked it open. Then he paused, looked back. “I’ll see you—and Brittany—tomorrow.”
> Ellie let out her breath in a sigh. His words—I thought you’d be a cop—stayed with her for a long, long time.
In all the tussle of facts and emotions and fear of the past few days, she’d been focused on Alice and Julia. She’d forgotten that she had a job to do. She was the chief of police. Justice was her job.
THE NIGHT FOR JULIA WAS ENDLESS. FINALLY, SOMETIME AROUND THREE o’clock, she gave up on sleep and went to work. For hours she sat at the kitchen table, in the glow from a single lamp, reading about George Azelle.
His life was a web of innuendo and speculation. Nothing had ever been proven.
Pushing the papers aside in frustration, she put on her jogging clothes and went outside, hoping the cool air would clear her head. She would need her wits about her today. She ran for miles, down one road, up another, until she was aching and out of breath. Finally, near dawn, she found herself back on her own driveway, coming home.
She went to her father’s favorite fishing spot and stood there, breathing hard, watching sunlight creep over the treetops. Though the world was inky dark and freezing cold, she could remember how it had felt to be here in the summer with him, how his big, callused hand had swallowed her smaller one and how protected she’d felt by that.
She heard footsteps behind her.
“Hey,” Ellie said, coming up beside her. “You’re up early.” She handed Julia a cup of coffee.
“Couldn’t sleep.” She took the mug, wrapped her fingers around the warm porcelain.
In silence, they stared across the silvered field to the black forest beyond. Cal’s house was a twinkling of golden lights in the early morning mist.
“He’s going to get custody, Jules.”
“I know.” Julia stared down at the river, watching the pink dawn light its surface.
“We need to prove him guilty.” She paused. “Or innocent.”
