Here She Lies

detective since his TV image escorted Thomas Soiffer into the police station in the middle of the night.
    “What did Soiffer have to say?” I asked. “Where is he now?”
    “We’re holding him on a parole violation.” Outside, a cloud shifted; the room brightened and the fine lines on Lazare’s face came into focus.
    “Was he charged with murder?” I asked.
    “Without his blood analysis and without a murder weapon, we don’t have any case. No evidence, no arrest.”
    “But—” I started.
    Lazare clapped his hands on his knees and stood up. “Let’s just leave it at that for now.” He crossed the room, turned on the TV and sat back down in the rocking chair.
    I felt the injustice of a censured child and wanted to shout at the man, shock him into telling us more. It was wrong of him not to tell us. Our daughter was missing. We had seen a woman, dead, outside my sister’s house. The sight of Zara Moklas came back to me, her body eerily still, throat sliced open, oozing the final essence of her life. I looked at Bobby, hoping to engage him in my frustration, but like Lazare he had shut down, checked out, and was watching (or pretending to watch) Oprah interview a young actress who intermittently giggled.
    It was an unbearable wait, worse even than my night in prison. Despite the shock and humiliation of that, I had believed, at least, that Lexy was safe. I had believed I’d be reunited with her quickly and that somehow my wrongful arrest would get sorted out. I thought of Liz; our conversations since the morning when I’d returned to Great Barrington had convinced her beyond a doubt that I would be easily vindicated of the embezzlement charges, but that was hardly the problem anymore. The problem was that I had lost my baby and my sister, all in one fell swoop. I had lost my heart. Who was I without them? As my mind lit on thatquestion — the problem of boundaries of experience and meaning, all the implications of self, not so much as a series of experiences but perceptions, beliefs and feelings that define what we think of as a person’s soul. I sensed myself drifting. Who was I? Who was I ?
    And then, suddenly, I heard Julie outside. “Stop it. Don’t touch my baby!”
    I ran to the cabin door and there she was, gripping one of Lexy’s stroller handles while one cop held the other handle and another tugged her elbow, trying to pull her away.
    “Your baby?” I hurried down the porch steps. When she saw me, her mouth dropped open. She was mute. For the first time ever, I had rendered my twin speechless. She had no answer before the question, no end to my sentence. She had nothing.
    I went straight to Lexy — my baby — who was groggy but awake in the stroller and clearly alarmed by all the turmoil. As soon as I saw her my milk dropped, soaking the front of my shirt. Bobby ran ahead and helped the officer detach Julie from the stroller while I knelt down in front of Lexy. Balancing on the balls of my feet, smiling and crying, I unbuckled her straps. She stared at me. I noticed that she didn’t reach for me as she always had before, so I leaned in closer and whispered, “It’s Mommy! Come here, my sweet angel.” One little hand reached out to touch my face and she started to cry. Leaning forward, she searched behind her for Julie, then looked at me and cried harder.
    “Annie, you’re scaring her,” Julie said.
    “I’m scaring her? Why are you doing this to us?”
    “Doing what? Did you forget? I told you I was taking her to the house.”
    “What house?”
    “In Maine,” she said. “The house I rented. I told you all about it.”
    “You’re a liar.” Bobby released her to the cop, who manacled one of her wrists, then the other. “You bitch.”
    She looked shocked at that and even I felt shocked, automatically defensive of my sister’s dignity. But I got over it quickly.
    “Embezzlement of federal funds?” I said.
    “What are you talking about?” Her tone was incredulous, and her eyes — the eyes I knew so well — challenged me. There was something new in them, a hoax I had not been let into.
    “I was arrested in Manhattan,” I said. “I spent a night in jail.”
    “Jail?”
    “Oh, Julie, don’t. The FBI’s got your computer all decrypted, so there’s no way to deny it.”
    She paused a moment before her eyes clouded over and she looked really scared. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Annie. Please, please help me. This is all a