Now You See Her Page 0,45

days. “You’ll just tell her the truth,” Marcy continued aloud, finding comfort in the sound of her voice. “Tell her who you are. Ask for her help. Beg for mercy.”

She was within half a block of Shannon when she saw a young man ride up on a bicycle. She saw Shannon smile as he approached, her blush as strong as a red traffic light. The boy stopped and dismounted, touching her arm as he dutifully admired the baby in her charge. That’s kind of sweet, Marcy thought, as she wormed her way between two slow-moving pedestrians. It wasn’t until she was almost on top of them that Marcy realized she was staring at the same young man whose bicycle had sent her flying a few days ago.

“No, that’s impossible,” she exclaimed, stopping abruptly, causing the man behind her to crash into her.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize …,” he began.

“My fault,” Marcy told him. “I thought I … It was my fault.” Surely she was imagining things. This couldn’t be the same boy who’d run her down.

Could it?

She moved closer.

“So, does she ever stop cryin’?” the young man was asking Shannon over the sound of Caitlin’s constant wails.

“The doctor says she has colic,” Shannon explained.

“Does he say how long it’s gonna last?”

“He says he doesn’t think it should go on much longer, but I don’t think he knows, to be honest.”

“God, it must get on your nerves. Is there nothing you can do?”

“Believe me, we’ve tried everything. Holding her, taking her for long walks, going for rides in the car. She won’t take a pacifier. Nothing works. Except for this one woman I met in the park the other day. All she had to do was pick her up and Caitlin went dead quiet. It was like some kind of miracle, I tell you.”

“Sounds more like witchcraft,” the boy said, and laughed, then spit on the sidewalk, as if to ward off the evil eye. “You’re sure she wasn’t a witch?”

I’ve been called worse, Marcy thought, edging closer still. “It’s him,” she whispered.

What did it mean? Was it a simple coincidence or something more sinister? What was his connection to Shannon? And if he was connected to Shannon, did it necessarily follow that he was connected to Devon as well? “Okay, calm down. Think this through. Don’t go jumping to conclusions.” Except how could she help it? She’d been searching for Devon, had just miraculously spotted her standing on the footbridge over Bachelor’s Quay, was in fact racing toward her, when at that exact moment his bicycle had appeared from out of nowhere, barreling toward her and sending her sprawling. His prolonged solicitations had delayed things even further, and by the time she’d extricated herself from his clumsy concern, Devon was gone. Marcy had assumed it was a combination of bad timing and worse luck. But maybe something more deliberate had been at play. Maybe her accident hadn’t been an accident at all. Maybe the boy had purposely knocked her down, alerting Devon to her presence and giving her time to get away.

Which meant what? That Devon knew she was here?

Was it possible?

Or was she reading too much into things? After all, Cork wasn’t that big a city. It made perfect sense that Shannon and the boy might know each other, that their relationship—if you could call stopping to chat on a busy street corner a relationship—was as innocent as it was innocuous. Just because Shannon was also friends with the girl she knew as Audrey didn’t necessarily mean anything. The boy might not know Audrey at all.

Or he might.

Which meant what?

“What does it mean?” Marcy demanded of the concrete at her feet. “Damn it, what does this mean?”

“Marilyn?” she heard someone calling from a distance. Then closer, “Marilyn? Yoo-hoo.”

Marcy looked up to see Shannon crossing the street, waving furiously and heading in her direction.

“It’s me. Shannon. From the park,” she announced over Caitlin’s loud cries. “I thought I recognized you.”

Marcy fought hard to control her emotions. She wanted to grab hold of Shannon’s elbows and demand answers: Who is that boy you were just talking to? What is his connection to Audrey? Is there one? How much can you tell me about my daughter? Instead she said, “Shannon, of course. It’s nice to see you again.”

“What an amazing coincidence! I was just talking about you, and suddenly here you are.”

“You were talking about me?”

“Yes, to this friend of mine. Well, more an acquaintance really. I was telling him how