Stand Alone (42 page)

Wilson cleared his throat a few times, and shook his head.

“There were doctors who believed at the time that the mother might have been suffering from Munchausen by Proxy,” he said hesitantly.

Frank’s eyes narrowed as he considered this.

“That’s the one where the parent makes the child sick intentionally?” he questioned.

“Yes. No one could prove it
  
…
 
but we were on the lookout. It was just a very strange case
  
…
 
one of those ones that you can’t figure out what the pathology actually is. Her ‘lytes would be all wrong, she’d be throwing up, dehydrated
  
…
 
then she would stabilize again
  
…
 
but just when you thought she was on the road to recovery, it would start all over again. We were looking for some sort of metabolic illness, monitoring her diet, we just couldn’t figure it out. And in the end
  
…
 
we ran out of time.”

“And you think it might have been Em who was making her sick.”

Wilson shrugged, rolling his shoulders uncomfortably. His admission was hesitant.

“We thought it
might
be
  
…
 
but there was no evidence. Nothing to pin on her. She met all of the profile characteristics
  
…
 
extremely close to the child, there at all hours, very involved in her medical care. Very interested in the medical procedures, well-versed in what was going on. She knew all of the doctors and nurses by name.” He shook his head and raised his hands helplessly. “But those are all characteristics of a good parent, too. You can’t accuse someone of something like that without proof. You have to catch them at it, and we never did.”
 

“Katie had some odd visits to the hospital as well,” Frank said, fingering the pages of his notebook. “Not with mysterious illnesses, but with unexplained injuries, infections, claiming she was having reactions to her meds, things like that. And she was heavily in therapy and seeing psych doctors for years.”

“Katie may have been a victim of Munchausen by Proxy as well,” Dr. Wilson acknowledged with a nod. “I’d be interested in looking at her records. Did she ever claim that her mother hurt her?”

“More than once, but she always recanted again afterward. Her mother or her therapist managed to convince any investigators or doctors that she was just attention-seeking. That she needed psychiatric help.”

“And all along it was the mother
  
…
 
maybe.”

“We’ll have to see whether we can prove anything. Katie’s memories
  
…
 
aren’t reliable. She often has multiple explanations for things that happened. Somebody convinced her to change her story
  
…
 
or she’s buried it
  
…
 
or something has been planted or altered by the therapist
  
…
 
nothing she says can be taken as gospel.”

Katie ground down the handrail and made a perfect landing. She looked up at Rooster in triumph. But he was frowning, looking past her.

“What?” Katie demanded, turning to look over her shoulder.

“It’s that cop again,” he growled. He stepped on the end of his board with his toe to flip it up into his hand. “How come he’s gotta talk to you so much?”

“Sorry,” Katie shrugged, watching Frank’s approach. She couldn’t stop her lips from curling up into a smile, and felt her face get warm. “He’s just helping me out.”

“I’ve seen how cops help juvies out,” Rooster complained. “You can’t trust them.”

“You can trust Frank,” Katie said. “Or I can, anyway.”

Rooster beat a retreat as Frank reached them, joining with the rest of the crew, who looked anxious about the cop’s presence.

“He’s just here for Zel,” she heard Rooster assure them.

She took a few steps toward Frank, and touched his hand briefly.

“Let’s walk,” she motioned down the sidewalk. “You make my friends nervous.”

He glanced at the other skaters and chuckled. The two of them walked together, away from the group.
 

“So?” Katie said. “What’s up?”

“It’s about the hair,” Frank said.

Katie touched the locket around her neck. She didn’t know why she even wore it anymore. What was the point of memorializing a baby she never knew, who had died? Whose death had led to so much suffering on Katie’s part? But somehow, even though she had never felt any kinship when she looked at the tiny picture inside it, she felt now that Justine had been an integral part of her life. Of her past.
 

“It was just mine, wasn’t it?” she suggested. “I told you, I tested the hair from the baby book. And it was just mine.”

“We farmed it out to an independent lab,” Frank said. “The police lab is so backed up, and I didn’t want to have to wait months or years to resolve it for you.”
 

“But it was just mine,” Katie repeated.

He shook his head.

“No. It wasn’t yours. It was another little girl’s.”

She raised her eyes to him, hardly believing it.
 

“Another girl’s?” she repeated.

“X and Y chromosomes. And we compared it to Em’s and Cliff’s DNA samples. They are conclusively the parents.”

“It was Justine’s.”
 

“Yes.”

Katie blew out her breath, blinking back the tears that threatened.
 

“So now you don’t have to dig her up.”

“No. You made sure that she can rest in peace.”

“Unless they want to do an autopsy,” Katie remembered.

“No, there doesn’t seem to be much interest in that. The odds that anything would show up on lab tests that would conclusively show that she was poisoned or something
  
…
 
they’re pretty long. It’s bad press for the department, and it might swing public sentiment toward Em, as the grieving mother. We don’t want that.”

Katie nodded. She rolled her eyes up, still trying to keep back the tears of relief. She cleared her throat.

“I was sure it would just be my hair. Why would she put my hair in the baby book, but not in the locket?”

“Maybe she forgot it was there. Or maybe she couldn’t bear to get rid of the one last physical piece of Justine that she had. Either way, it was lucky for us.”

They walked slowly for a while in silence. Katie wiped her nose with the back of her hand.

“Did they do mine too?” she questioned.

“Yes. As expected, Em is ruled out as your mother. They’re still checking archives to see if anything with Katie Kelly’s DNA was preserved so we can prove one hundred percent who you are.”

Katie nodded. Even if science couldn’t prove who she was, they still had the other evidence that had been gathered in the case. The security footage in particular. And Frank knew who she was. Frank had recognized her. And for Katie, that was enough. She finally knew who she was.
 

A few days later, Frank stood with Katie outside the interrogation room. She looked through the glass at Em. Em looked so different from what Katie expected. The yellow corrections jumper didn’t flatter her. It was shapeless, and looked sort of like she was wearing a garbage bag. Em’s hair hung lank and unstyled. She had no makeup on, so her face looked washed out and you could see the dark bags under her eyes. Em had always been so careful about her looks. She looked a little like she did when she had one of her migraines. But Katie had never seen that defeated expression on her face before. Em was slumped over instead of sitting up straight, rubbing the deep wrinkles on her forehead.

“Do I have to talk to her?” Katie asked Frank, suddenly feeling like there was a hole in her stomach.

Frank raised his eyebrows.
 

“Don’t you want to talk to her? To confront her? This is your chance. This is the moment you’ve been fighting for all along.” He paused, studying her face. “Isn’t it?”

Katie nodded.
 

“Yeah
  
…
 
but now I don’t know.”

She was feeling nauseated and her heart was beating fast, so hard that it hurt. Frank was right. This was what she had always wanted. To prove to everyone that Em was not her mother and to be able to face Em on an equal footing. How many times had she tried to do this and failed? Now that she really had her chance, she was scared to death.

Frank put his hands on her shoulders. His big hands were warm and gentle.
 

“Katie
  
…
 
you don’t have to. But I think you need to. If you want to be able to move on
  
…
 
you should settle this.”

Katie swallowed.

“Besides which, the more she says, the better your case?” she suggested dryly.

Frank smiled and squeezed her shoulders.
 

“It’s an unusual case,” he said. “We need as much help as we can get.”

Katie stared through the glass at Em, sitting alone at the table.
 

“Doesn’t she have to have a lawyer or something?” she questioned.

“She’s refused one numerous times,” Frank said. He let go of Katie, turning back toward the window to look at Em. “She says she hasn’t done anything wrong.”

Katie’s anxiety disappeared. Her face got hot. In an instant, the fury was back. Her hatred toward Em for the years of lies. Em was still claiming that she was the perfect mom? That Katie was Justine, her daughter? In the face of all of the evidence of what she had done, she still denied kidnapping Katie?

Frank was watching her face.

“You ready?” he questioned, the corner of his lip twitching up.
 

Katie nodded.

“Yeah, I’m ready,” she agreed.

Frank took her over to the door.

“Do you want me to come in with you?” he questioned.

“She’ll talk more if you’re not there,” she suggested.
 

“It might put a damper on things to have a policeman in there,” he agreed.

“I’ll go in myself,” Katie decided.
 

He opened the door for her, and Katie entered the cool, echoing room.

Em turned her head and looked to see who had entered the room. Her expression brightened, and she moved immediately to get up and go to Katie. But she was chained to an anchor in the table, which immediately jerked her to a halt, and she dropped back to her chair, looking startled and distressed.
 

“Justine!”

Katie walked up to the table and tried to decide whether to sit down or to continue standing.
 

“My name isn’t Justine,” she growled.
 

“Justine—” Em protested.
 

“My name is
Katie
.”

Em was already pale. But what color remained in her face drained, leaving her complexion ivory white.
 

“Katie,” Katie repeated, savoring the feeling of her own name on her lips. The name that Em had forbidden, had tried to make her forget. “I’m not Justine. I am Katie.”

Em stared at her, trying to figure out what to say to her.

“Are you okay?” she questioned. “When you disappeared
  
…
 
I was so scared
  
…
 
I didn’t know what had happened to you.”

“I ran away from you,” Katie said. “I’m just fine. Better than I ever was with you.”

Em’s eyes traveled over her, and Katie felt exposed, like she was naked in front of Em. Em would take note of everything that she felt was out of place. Justine’s unwashed hair. The dirt on her clothes and holes in her knees. Her ragged nails. Em would be judging her, thinking that she didn’t know how to take care of herself. Thinking that there was no way that Katie was better off now than when Em had been taking such diligent care of her. But no matter what hardships Katie endured on the street, it was worth it not to have to live under Em’s tyranny anymore. To be Katie; who she really was. Independent.
 

“How could you do that to me?” Katie demanded.

“What?” Em questioned, her eyebrows going up. “I never did anything to hurt you.”

“You kidnapped me,” Katie burst out. “I know all about it now.”

“I didn’t kidnap you,” Em soothed. Her hand twitched toward Katie, and Katie stepped back slightly, to make sure that she was out of Em’s reach, should Em decide to try to hold her hand or something.

“You did too. You went to the hospital where I was and you took me. Kidnapped me.”

“I wouldn’t do that—”

“I’ve seen the video surveillance,” Katie interrupted. “I saw you! I always knew you weren’t my real mom. Why don’t you just admit it?”

“I love you, Justine,” Em insisted.

“You don’t love me. Maybe you love
your
Justine. The real one.”

Something flickered in Em’s eyes. Was she remembering the real Justine? The Justine that Frank said Em might have killed with her twisted version of love and nurturing? She remembered Cliff, Justine’s father, talking about how focused Em had been on Justine’s care. How it had been more important than anything, including her marriage.
 

“You are the real Justine,” Em said. But there was a quiver in her voice. The slightest vibration, hesitation. Em’s eyes slid to the side, away from Katie.
 

“You know I’m not,” Katie said, lowering her voice. However angry she was, Em wasn’t going to admit anything with Katie yelling at her. Katie wasn’t going to get Frank any information helpful to the case by being confrontational. So she swallowed her anger the best she could, and spoke softly. “I’ve talked to Cliff. The one who buried Justine. You’ve always known that I’m not Justine. And I knew that I wasn’t, too.”

For a long time, Em didn’t say anything.
 

“Why wouldn’t you ever bond with me?” Em said in an exasperated tone. “I gave you everything you needed. Food, clothing, and shelter. Lots of cuddling and love. I played games with you, spent so much time providing an enriching environment. You needed so much. The hospital wasn’t taking care of you properly. I knew I could do better by myself. But when I brought you home from the hospital, you never settled in. You never
  
…
 
accepted any love.”