Читать книгу Little Girl Gone: The can’t-put-it-down psychological thriller - Alexandra Burt - Страница 10

Jack arrives and he’s all business; his suit, his posture, his demeanor. The thing that strikes me is how in control he is. I used to crave his attention, his company. But not only am I disgusted by him, I can’t even conceive of ever having had feelings for him.

My hands shake at first, then my whole body trembles. Whether with fear or anger I don’t know. I fix my gaze on his anxious face. He whispers, yet his words pierce through me.

‘I came straight from the airport. I can’t even wrap my mind around this. What the hell happened?’

His comment feels familiar. Not the words, but the feeling it evokes. I’ve been belittled so many times. So many faux pas committed by me – little ones first, then major ones.

‘Someone took her, Jack.’

‘What do you mean someone took her? Where were you?’ He slides his briefcase across the nightstand sending a plastic cup tumbling over the edge and to the ground. ‘What the hell is going on?’

‘Jack, I—’

He swipes his hand through the air as if to dismiss me when I open my mouth. ‘Who loses a baby, Estelle? Who? Tell me who loses a baby?’

I press my lips together.

‘I leave for a couple of weeks and you get in an accident in … Dover? That’s hours from here! What were you doing there?’

I don’t dare make eye contact with him.

‘Why did you take her to Dover?’

The beeping and buzzing of machines behind me is the only sound in the room. ‘I didn’t, Jack, that’s the thing, I don’t know why I was even there.’

‘I was questioned by the police – no, wait – questioned isn’t the right word …’ His face twitches, then he steps closer. He lifts his index finger as if to scold me like a child, ‘I was interrogated. I was detained at the airport, taken to the police station and interrogated like a common criminal. Just what did you tell them?’

‘I didn’t tell them anything. I haven’t even spoken to police—’

‘I was questioned by police.’

‘They always question the parents first, you know that.’

‘I was treated like a suspect. I’ve never been so humiliated in my life. Once my boss gets wind of this …’ He doesn’t finish the sentence. ‘Where is she? Tell me where she is?’

‘She’s missing, Jack!’ I’m alarmed by the distance in his eyes. I want to cry but that would only make him angrier. All this time with Jack has paid off. I’ve learned to hold back my tears.

‘I know she’s missing, they’re searching for her. I want to know how it happened, tell me everything. I talked to the police and the doctors, but I want to hear it from you.’

I start with how I found the empty crib. How it was a Sunday and none of the workers were in the house, it was empty and quiet. Lieberman was out of town, like every weekend. How nothing made sense. How I went to the police and left without saying anything. Jack doesn’t say, ‘It’s going to be okay’ or ‘we’ll sort it out.’ He just says, ‘Go on.’

When I’m done, he shakes his head. ‘I should’ve never left town. Never. You fooled me. You told me you were okay and I believed you. Did you leave her somewhere? Tell me where you left her.’

Jack’s got it all figured out, like always. In his world you put one foot in front of the other and you’re sure to arrive anywhere you want to be.

‘Jack—’

‘You promised me, promised me, you were okay, and now look at what you’ve done.’

‘I’m sorry, Jack. I’m so sorry.’ I don’t know what I’m sorry for but it seems like the proper thing to say.

‘Sorry isn’t going to cut it. My daughter is gone. Gone. Did that sink in yet?’

‘I wish I knew what happened. All I know is she was gone when I woke up.’

‘You don’t know where you left her?’

‘No, I didn’t leave her anywhere. I don’t know where she is.’

‘Did you leave her with a sitter? Did you leave her at an overnight daycare? Maybe—’

‘No, no, there was no sitter. No daycare.’

‘I should’ve known something was going to happen. I never should’ve …’ He doesn’t finish the sentence.

Remember, a change of scenery would do me good, you said. It would be like starting over, you said. I believed you, Jack. I thought I could leave the other woman, the one who had taken over my life, I could leave her behind. But she followed me.

‘None of this makes any sense.’ Suddenly his face relaxes. ‘You’ve been acting strangely ever since you had Mia. Either I worked too much or I slept too late. Nothing was ever right. I’m starting to think this was your plan all along.’

‘My plan? What plan?’

‘Yeah, you land a lawyer, get married, have a baby, divorce him, and get alimony and child support. That plan.’

‘You’re the jackpot and I’m the gold digger? We’re broke, remember? You took this job in Chicago because we are broke.’

‘I’m just trying to understand what happened. I’ve done nothing but support you. What happened to you, Estelle? Did you wake up one day and just say to yourself, fuck Jack, fuck Mia, fuck everything? Just like that? I’ve done everything you wanted me to do, given you everything you’ve ever wanted. Now it’s time to do something for me.’

I just look at him.

‘Tell me the truth. We can still fix this.’

‘I was in an accident. I have amnesia. I don’t know what happened.’ My voice is monotone, like a robot, repeating a prerecorded statement.

‘Let’s assume you really don’t remember, let’s entertain that for a minute, then explain to me how you don’t call me. Explain that to me. I’m her father, how do you not call me? Was this another one of your crazy moments?’

‘My crazy moments?’

‘One of those moments when you go off the deep end. When you can’t hold the baby, when you can’t stop crying, when you follow me to my office, when you go through my stuff, when you can’t pick up the phone, can’t dial 9-1-1! One of those moments. Do I need to go on?’

Everything in his world is either black or white. The scary thing is that I have to agree with him, I wasn’t good for anything. I tried to be a good mother, I tried to do what mothers do. I wish I could make him understand how hard I tried.

‘Everything okay in here?’ We turn towards the door where a nurse stands, holding an empty tray.

‘Sorry,’ Jack says and I nod in agreement. ‘We’ll keep it down. Everything’s all right.’

Jack doesn’t like to be told how loud he can speak. He lowers his voice but the look in his eyes makes up for contained his rage.

‘There’s a cop sitting outside. Do you get how serious this is?’

I nod.

‘Any idea why he’s here?’ He doesn’t wait for my answer and lowers his voice to a whisper. ‘It’s not for your protection.’

‘What are you saying?’ I ask and can’t keep my voice from shaking.

‘You need a criminal defense lawyer.’

I cringe at the word criminal.

‘Jack, I’m not a criminal. I don’t remember what happened. I’m beside myself!’ Is it possible for a nonexistent ear to throb? I know my outbursts only reiterate the fact that, in his eyes, I’ve lost my mind. I know I must look like a deer right before the bumper makes contact.

‘I woke up and she was gone. Everything was gone. That’s all I remember.’

‘Something must have happened. Did she cry and you got upset? Did you do something to her?’

I try to sit up but the pain in my ribs is excruciating.

‘Look at me.’ Jack steps closer and he grabs my chin, turning my head towards him. ‘Look me in the eyes and tell me what happened.’

‘Do you think I’d hurt our daughter?’

The candor of my question startles him. His eyes widen, but immediately he catches himself and lowers his voice to a whisper. ‘I’m not saying you hurt her, all I’m saying is that I blame you for what happened.’

Jack opens his briefcase. ‘One more thing,’ he adds.

There is always one more thing with Jack.

‘I’m not sure if you’re getting this, but there’s a possibility you’ll spend the rest of your life behind bars or strapped to a gurney. Now is the time to grasp the severity of your situation.’ He pinches his lips into a straight line and adds, ‘I’ve talked to the doctors at length and if I can convince the DA, I’ll get you into a clinic with a doctor who specializes in memory recovery. I don’t see any other way, all I want to do is find my daughter.’

I stare at him, and then I lower my eyes.

‘Where’s this clinic?’ I ask.

‘Here in New York. The doctor, some foreigner from the Middle East, specializes in trauma-related memory loss.’ His shoulders relax but even his expensive suit can’t hide the fact that suddenly he looks like a deflated balloon. ‘I need you to sign a voluntary admission to a psychiatric facility for an unspecified length of time.’

‘I don’t belong in a psych ward.’ I attempt to organize my thoughts into separate, manageable portions. It barely seems possible. Memory recovery. I imagine wires hooked up to my brain, truth serums, and my retinas relaying images to computer screens. A psychiatric facility. Unspecified amount of time. I’m agreeing to go to a loony bin and I won’t be able to check out.

Jack cocks his head and raises his brows as if he has caught a kid in a lie.

‘In your eyes I’m just this crazy lunatic, right? Why don’t you just say it? You think I’m crazy, don’t you?’

‘Not crazy in a certifiable sense, not crazy as in failing a psych exam, but I believe that you need help and that this clinic might just be your only chance. And most of all, it’s Mia’s only chance.’

His voice is soft now, almost seductive. ‘I don’t think you have any other choice. This is it.’

Jack has spoken, there’s no alternative. He’s right, this is Mia’s only chance and so I force my legs off the side of the bed. My rubbery socks search for the sticky linoleum floor. I feel suspended, unable to find the ground. I sign my name in shaky letters and the second the pen rests, I feel an overwhelming urge to take it in my fist and scratch out my signature until the paper is torn to shreds.

Jack grabs the pen and pulls it from between my fingers and checks his watch.

‘That doctor will help me remember and we’ll find Mia. We’ll find out what happened, right, Jack?’

He closes his briefcase and leaves the room before I can even get my feet on the ground.