her role at the center of this tragedy.
The fragrance of perfume wafted into the room. “That was my husband,” Barbara said as she sat down. “Calling from the fishing lodge. He always gets worried when he knows I’m going to be talking about Cathy and Stephie.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, he hates the publicity, he thinks it’s bad for our kids. And he’s right. They hate it too, it really upsets them. I promised them I wouldn’t do any more interviews, but you’re not the press, this isn’t going to be public.” She sighed. “I think this’ll be the last time I talk about it, though. It’s time to let it be.”
“Thank you for seeing me, Mrs. Olsson.” I switched off the recorder and stuffed it into my bag. “I really have to leave if I’m going to catch my flight. “
She rose with me. “I hope I’ve been some help with your paper.”
“Oh, you have. More than I can tell you.”
“Well, then. It was nice meeting you. Have a good flight.”
With a quick smile I left her, strode briskly down the driveway and across the street. When I was in the car, she waved at me from the steps. I waved back, then sat watching as she disappeared inside and the door closed.
It was over. I thought of little Kristin Coleman as I’d seen her months before on that rainy day, crying because her dog was hurt and her mother had vanished. It seemed pointless now to wonder what our lives would have been like if that child’s tears hadn’t brought a buried memory to the surface. It had happened. Mother was dead, and I’d found the truth I was searching for. It would end here.
Judith had lived behind a fragile mask, dependent on my damaged memory to keep her secret. Now my knowledge would act as guardian.
I turned the key in the ignition. I would drive to the airport, get on the next available flight, and go home to Luke and to a shattered sister who needed me.
I wasn’t Cathy Dawson anymore, and never would be again.
I was Rachel.
Judith Goddard’s daughter.
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