“For a moment no one moved. They all just stood there. Then Wayne smiled at them and said, ‘Thanks for the help.’”
I frowned, but maybe I was starting to understand. Camille had drawn Margot out, Gil had tied her up…
“Then Wayne lifted the blade. Gil said they could see how much Wayne liked what he had done. How he stared at Margot’s dead body. He had a thirst now. He started toward them. And they ran. They ran in different directions. Wayne chased them. Gil ran for miles and miles. I don’t know what happened exactly. But we can guess. Wayne caught up to Doug Billingham. He killed him. But Gil got away. And so did your sister.”
The nurse returned.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Copeland. I need to take your pulse and blood pressure.”
I nodded for her to come in. I needed to catch my breath. I could feel my heart hammering in my chest. Again. If I didn’t calm down, they’d keep me in here forever.
The nurse worked quickly and silently. Mrs. Perez looked around the room as if she’d just entered it, as if she’d just noticed where she was. I was afraid I was going to lose her.
“It’s okay,” I said to her.
She nodded.
The nurse finished up. “You’re being released this morning.”
“Great.”
She gave me a tight smile and left us alone. I waited for Mrs. Perez to continue.
“Gil was terrified, of course. You can imagine. So was your sister. You have to see it from their viewpoint. They were young. They were nearly killed. They had watched Margot Green get slaughtered. But maybe most of all, Wayne’s words haunted them. ‘Thanks for the help.’ You understand?”
“He had made them a part of it.”
“Yes.”
“So what did they do?”
“They just hid. For more than twenty-four hours. Your mother and I were worried sick. My husband was home in Irvington. Your father was at camp too. But he was out with the search parties. Your mother and I were together when the call came in. Gil knew the number of the pay phone in the back of the kitchen. He dialed it three different times but he hung up when someone else answered. Then, more than a day after they went missing, I picked it up.”
“Gil told you what happened?”
“Yes.”
“You told my mother?”
She nodded. I was starting to see it.
“Did you approach Wayne Steubens?” I asked.
“We didn’t have to. He’d already approached your mother.”
“What did he say?”
“Nothing incriminating. But he made it clear. He had set up an alibi for that night. And you see, we knew already. Mothers are like that.”
“You knew what?”
“Gil’s brother, my Eduardo, was serving time. Gil had a small arrest record—he and some friends stole a car. Your family was poor, my family was poor. There would be fingerprints on the rope. The police would wonder why your sister had led Margot Green into the woods. Wayne had gotten rid of the evidence against him. He was rich and well liked and could hire the best attorneys. You’re a prosecutor, Mr. Copeland. You tell me. If Gil and Camille came forward, who would have believed them?”
I closed my eyes. “So you told them to stay hidden.”
“Yes.”
“Who planted their clothes with the blood?”
“I did that. I met Gil. He was still in the woods.”
“Did you see my sister?”
“No. He gave me the clothes. He cut himself, pressed his shirt against the wound. I told him to stay hidden until we came up with a plan. Your mother and I tried to figure a way to turn it around, to get the police to learn the truth. But nothing came to us. Days passed. I knew how the police could be. Even if they did believe us, Gil was still an accomplice. So was Camille.”
I saw something else.
“You had a handicapped son.”
“Yes.”
“And you needed money. To take care of him. And maybe to pay for Glenda to go to a decent school.” My eyes found hers. “When did you realize that you could cash in with that lawsuit?”
“That wasn’t part of our original thinking. That came later—when Billingham’s father started screaming about how Mr. Silverstein didn’t protect his son.”
“You saw an opportunity.”
She shifted in her seat. “Mr. Silverstein should have watched them. They would have never gone in those woods. He wasn’t blameless in this. So yes, I saw an opportunity. So did your mother.”
My head was spinning. I tried to make it stop just long enough to accept this new reality. “Are you telling me…” I stopped. “Are you telling me that my parents knew that my sister was alive?”
“Not your parents,” she said.
And I felt the cold gust hit my heart.
“Oh no…”
She said nothing.
“She didn’t tell my father, did she?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because she hated him.”
I just sat there. I thought about the fights, the bitterness, the unhappiness. “That much?”
“What?”
“It’s one thing to hate a man,” I said. “But did she hate my father so much that she’d let him think his own daughter was dead?”
She didn’t respond.
“I asked you a question, Mrs. Perez.”
“I don’t know the answer. I’m sorry.”
“You told Mr. Perez, right?”
“Yes.”
“But she never told my father.”
No answer.
“He used to go out in those woods and search for her,” I said. “Three months ago, as he lay on his deathbed, his last words were that he wanted me to keep looking. Did she hate him that much, Mrs. Perez?”
“I don’t know,” she said again.
It started to hit me, like heavy raindrops. Big thuds. “She bided her time, didn’t she?”
Mrs. Perez didn’t respond.
“She hid my sister. She never told anyone—not even…not even me. She was waiting until the settlement money came through. That was her plan. And as soon as it did…she ran. She took enough money and ran and met up with my sister.”
“That was…that was her plan, yes.”
I blurted out the next question. “Why didn’t she take me?”
Mrs. Perez just looked at me. I thought about it. Why? And then I realized something. “If she took me, my father would never stop looking. He’d get Uncle Sosh and all his old KGB cronies on it. He might let my mother go—he had probably fallen out of love with her too. He thought my sister was dead so that wouldn’t be a draw. But my mother knew that he’d never let me go.”