Her concern for me sounded sincere. I believed it was sincere, and yet I also believed she would kill my child. Both these truths were alive inside her. Gabrielle crept a little closer. I could see that her lawyer’s brain was still online, working behind her puffy eyes.

“I don’t understand what you want, then,” I said.

“I’ve been spooling this out in different directions all night, seeing how it might work. It’s like that riddle about the river, where you have to get a fox and a goose and a bag of corn acrost without any one of them eating the other. I’ve put the puzzle pieces every which-a-way. And I only see one path. It’s this: You bring your husband to me.”

“Bring you Trey? Trey is in Chicago.” I couldn’t imagine bringing her my husband like he was a dove or a goat, a necessary blood sacrifice. Except I was imagining it, I realized. I would trade anything for Robert, except one of my girls. And at that thought, a third path lit up. One I could walk down. I blurted out, “What about me? I’ll trade you me. Trey loves me. If I died—”

“Aw, now stop.” She clucked her tongue at me. “You’re a true mother. I seen it in you from the start, and I thought you might offer. It’s because of that, me seeing that in you, that I’m making you this deal at all. Because I feel for you. But a man can always get another wife. Especially a rich man. They’d line up three deep to heal his sorrows, pretty as you and younger to boot. The only things your husband can give me to make things fair are his life or his son. The others who wronged my family didn’t get to choose, but I’ll give that choice now, to you. You decide. Which one.”

Marshall jerked his head in a quick nod, but I didn’t need his affirmation. I was already talking.

“Trey,” I said. “I want Robert back.”

I was lying. All three of us in the room knew it. Maybe even the woman on the phone knew. I wasn’t giving her my husband. I was gaining time. But I was a good actor. The words rang true. So true that I might mean it after all. If it came down to it. And maybe she knew that, too.

“Good,” she said. “It’s what I would choose. Now, hush and listen here to me, because this is the last time we’ll talk. I’m going to smash this phone up with a hammer, soon as I hang up. I thought and thought how to work this, and you’ll only get one chance at it. First, call your husband home. You can tell him the truth if you like, or any lie that pleases you. Just get him on a plane. I’ll give you the day. Tomorrow I’m going to leave Robert here and drive to the Funtime Carousel and Gold Mine. You can meet me there if you decide to trade. You know Funtime? You know the carousel?”

“I don’t,” I said. It sounded made up.

“Well, you’re too young. It closed years ago. It’s up north of the city. You bring your husband there to me, nine a.m. sharp, mind. I won’t wait. Come together, in the same car. Then the two of you walk up and meet me at the carousel.”

“Then what?” I asked, confused.

“Then you and me are done. I’ll finish my business with your husband and this whole black world, and then I’ll give you directions to go get your baby.”

This I understood. She meant to kill Trey and then herself. Or both of them together. Marshall held his hand up, shaped like a gun, asking if I thought she was armed. I shrugged.

I asked, “So who will have Robert? Your daughter?”

She tsked. “Naw. I’m telling you, she’s clean of anything that happens to your boy. I’m keeping her clean. I’ll just leave him and come meet you.”

“By himself?” Strange that this could shock me, considering everything she’d done. I had a vision of Robert alone in a dark place that smelled of mold. Maybe hungry. Maybe wet. Crying for me, every minute an erosion to his tiny trust that the world was warm and loving. “How far away is Funtime from where you’ll leave him?”

Marshall gave me an approving nod. It was a smart question, but she wasn’t stupid enough to answer.

“Not close, but he’ll be safe enough. He may be mad before you get to him, but he won’t die. I’ll clip him in his car seat, and there’s a good strong door between him and any coyotes.” She said the last word with only two syllables. Ky-oats. My head shook, back and forth. No. I didn’t want Robert waiting for me, alone in some abandoned gas station or a backwoods shed or a soundproofed city basement. “If you come without your husband, if you send police instead, I’ll never tell where he is. He’ll stay there, crying for you, until thirst gets him. He’s in a place won’t nobody find him. Not fast enough. I’ll die knowing it’ll finish fair without me. Hard on the baby, though.”

I believed her. I could see it. It would be easier than putting him into the water. She wouldn’t have to do anything but keep silent and die. She could tell herself that Trey and I had made our choice.

Far away, in a secret place with a locked door, I could hear Robert stirring, making hungry peeps.

“I’ll see you tomorrow. Or not. It’s on you now.”

“Wait,” I said. “Please tell me. What did he do? What did they do?” I meant Trey. And Spence. And Geoff’s poor parents.

A pause, a breath, but she didn’t answer. “I won’t call again.”

“What did he do?” I insisted, but she was gone. I was talking to dead air.

11

Marshall knew that the old woman had made some mistakes during the conversation, though he couldn’t see them all clearly yet. He could feel them like little cracks, spidering and spreading in the veil that hid her from him.

She’d said too much. Why had she been so forthcoming?

Something was at work inside her, a strange tenderness aimed at Bree. Bree herself had a pretty serious case of Stockholm syndrome going, no doubt, but why was her softness being reciprocated? It made no sense.

Marshall scrubbed at his tired eyes, grateful that Cara was with Yvonne at the lake. She’d spend the day kayaking and swimming, hearing birdsong as sunlight sparked the blue water. How could the world be wide enough to hold that place and this one? Her live, young joy should not share a planet with what was happening here.

He’d been right there, too, in the building. Bree had even shown him the kidnapper, pointed at her through the greenroom window, agitated, and he hadn’t followed up. He’d been so busy trying to keep his distance.