Here She Lies

damages when it comes to credit cards.”
    “Except,” Bobby added, “according to the book, it supposedly takes years to clear your name. And a huge percentage of identity thieves are never caught.”
    When I had the chance I was going to rip up that book; I didn’t think I could handle knowing much more about my personal demolition. Whoever said ignorance was bliss was right and I wanted mine back!
    “So,” I said, “jumping to the conclusion that my sister’s behind this is kind of rash, then?” My voicesounded feebler than I’d meant it to and my words seemed to float away, untethered to reality.
    I saw the pause in Detective Lazare’s expression and felt it in Bobby in his chair beside me: amazement that I wouldn’t accept what seemed evident to them.
    “Sweetie,” Bobby said, “Julie’s got all the computer skills to do this, and she gave you those earrings as a gift, lying about them, and she’s got so much money.” I wished he wouldn’t talk about Julie’s money, as if we could safely assume that any woman with all that wealth had to be some kind of criminal (even though it was strange how all this was falling into place and she did seem to live very, very well). “It really does make sense that it was her — and that she’s taken Lexy away because she wants her, too.”
    “Hold it, now,” Detective Lazare said. “That is a big assumption. You left your daughter in Julie’s care and she left a note saying she’d be back by noon, and it’s only” — he flipped his wrist to consult his watch — “eleven fifteen.”
    But logic couldn’t penetrate the evocation of my most devastating fear: that Lexy was gone.
    “We need to find her.” It burst out of me with so much volume that the other people in the room seemed to temporarily freeze — and then the shuffle of office noise began again.
    “Okay, Annie.” Lazare kept his tone smooth, to calm me, but I wasn’t calmed. He steepled his fingers and I noticed that his squarish nails had been jaggedly clipped. “Julie’s note said noon — I say we wait. If she’s not back by then—”
    “Wait?” How could we just wait?
    “And they’re not really assumptions,” Bobby said. “Detective, you yourself called the FBI. Obviously you think something’s wrong.”
    “Identity theft is one thing,” Lazare said. “The FBI fraud specialist will be here soon and we’ll start looking into that. Child abduction is a whole other ball game.”
    “Detective” — Bobby leaned forward — “Julie tried to get me to go to bed with her. She bought diamonds and charged them to a credit card in Annie’s name, a card we didn’t even know about. Something she did landed Annie in jail. She practically destroyed our marriage — and now she’s off somewhere with our daughter.”
    “Let’s try to calm down a minute—”
    “No,” Bobby said. “We don’t care if she’s at the grocery store. We want to find them, now.”
    Bobby’s anger was satisfying, even comforting. His persistence had transformed into a kind of emotional passion he rarely indulged in. I was usually the reactive one. My mind seemed to unclench; and then I thought of something.
    “She’s driving my rental car and it has a GPS system.”
    “Well, good,” Lazare said. “That gives us something concrete. They provide those systems so they can keep track of their property — sometimes customers dump the cars. They’ll have a tracking system. An individual unit doesn’t even have to be turned on to be traceable. What agency did you use?”
    I told him and he leaned abruptly toward his computer. He was a fast typist and in a minute he was dialinghis desk phone. He recited his credentials and stated his case, then was put on hold. “They’re checking me out, which is smart of them.” Finally they came back on the line and his face lit up.
    “You’re sure?” He listened some more. “All right. Thank you.” He hung up and said, “The GPS system shows them at the house.”
    I stood up and pulled my purse strap over my shoulder. If Lexy was back, I could have her in my arms in ten minutes’ time and the worst of this would be over. Bobby also stood. Lazare folded his search warrant application and stuffed it into his shirt pocket, then he scooped up the earrings, slipped them back into the little envelope and handed it to me. I put it into my change purse as we all hurried out of the station.
    “I’ll meet you at the house,” Lazare said. “I’m