Here She Lies

misunderstanding...”
    Misunderstanding? Help her? I couldn’t believe my ears.
    Lexy was sobbing now and I lifted her out of the stroller. I held her and rocked her and loved her with every iota of my being. In the bubble of privacy in which I greeted my baby, I became aware of cameras clicking, reporters talking to video lenses, Julie beingread her rights. Without looking back, I carried Lexy into the cabin.
    We settled down on the couch, her skin so very soft against mine. She looked healthy and clean and she was safe. It was an unrivaled joy to have her back in my arms. But I could see that she was restless, confused. I thought it might help us both if I nursed her, so I lifted my shirt, unhooked my bra and offered her my breast. She turned away. Tears gathering in my eyes, I tried again. It took a while, but finally, tentatively, she latched on — and drank.
    The cabin was beautifully quiet while Lexy nursed, pressing her chubby little hands into my swollen breasts, realizing — or remembering — that I was me, her real and actual mommy. I could have sat on that couch with her forever. Outside, voices crescendoed, lulled, spiked again. Finally, cars began to drive away. I had the relieved feeling that I’d been forgotten and would be allowed a long, luxurious seclusion with my child.
    But then I heard two voices — Bobby’s and Detective Lazare’s. They were standing outside the cabin, talking about Julie.
    “What now?” Bobby asked. “Will she actually be released?”
    “If she can post bail, yes.”
    “You know she’ll be able to post bail. I can’t believe this.”
    “We have enough evidence for a federal charge of computer fraud,” Lazare said. “It’s a charge, not a conviction. After she’s processed, the legal case willbegin. Everyone has the right of innocence until proven guilty.”
    “What about kidnapping? That’s a felony.”
    “Annie left her sister in charge of Lexy. She had permission.”
    “Julie disabled the GPS and buried her cell phone,” Bobby said. “She made a deliberate effort not to be traced.”
    “Someone did those things, yes. But you see the difficulty — without a witness we can’t substantiate that it was Julie who hid the GPS and the phone. In the eyes of the law it could have been anyone.”
    “That’s ridiculous.”
    “You heard Julie,” Lazare said. “She claims this was a planned trip. If she can find a way to prove it, then it may not technically be kidnapping.”
    “Annie didn’t know anything about a house in Maine. Julie made that up.”
    “But we have to investigate first.”
    “This is fucking unreal!”
    I could picture Lazare in the thick silence that followed Bobby’s outburst — his taut non-smile, his infuriating patience.
    “Okay, what about Thomas Soiffer?” Bobby asked. “Are you telling me he didn’t witness Julie killing Zara Moklas?”
    “I’m not telling you anything right now.”
    “Julie killed her, Detective. I bet that’s what Soiffer told you. It’s part of everything that’s happened so far — our breakup, the identity theft, Annie’s arrest, the kidnapping, everything. Just tell me: Am I right?”
    “A significant amount of blood matching Zara’sgeneral type was found in Soiffer’s van,” Lazare said, calmly, coolly. “If it isn’t her blood, he’ll be eliminated. If you’re right about Julie, we’ll get there in time.”
    “How much time? She’ll cut and run, Detective. I know her.”
    “Your daughter’s in there,” Lazare said. “Don’t you want to see her now?”
    And suddenly, as their footsteps clomped up the outside steps and across the wood porch, I knew something terrible: I knew what Thomas Soiffer had told Detective Lazare. He had witnessed Zara’s murder — that was already established — but naturally Lazare had his doubts. That was why they had taken as possible evidence the sweater from the trunk. And that was why he wouldn’t arrest Julie for murder.
    Soiffer had reported seeing Julie kill Zara — which meant he might have seen me.

PART THREE

Chapter 12
    First thing Monday morning, a full week into this nightmare, there was a chill in the Great Barrington Police Department’s Detectives Unit. It was too late in the season for heat and too early for the sun to have penetrated the windows and worn away the nighttime country cold. Through the window behind Lazare’s desk I watched the leaves of the big maple tree shiver as light bounced off their undersides,