me exactly what happened, so we can all understand.”
She takes a quaking breath. “Okay.”
I sit back and prepare myself for the truth of what happened that day in the park.
50
BEC
“I didn’t mean to,” Savi begins. She takes a shaky breath. “I watch you in the park sometimes. From my bedroom window. I always see you on the same bench with the other moms. Jackson always seems so happy,” she adds wistfully. “Mom never takes Oliver to that park because she doesn’t want us to get in trouble.”
I refrain from telling her what bullshit that is; that no one would assume anything other than she had a baby of her own, but Crystal’s own warped paranoia has made Savi concoct a dangerous, inaccurate theory too.
“Anyway, that day, we were walking to the music store, and I saw you faint. I knew my mom didn’t want anyone coming to our house—like ever—especially in case they saw Oliver, but he was finally asleep, because Pam had given him some Benadryl. I knew he wouldn’t wake up and cry. It’s the only time he doesn’t cry.”
I wait for her to continue.
“When you came back, I went upstairs to tell Pam what happened, but she’d fallen asleep. She takes naps in the music room sometimes when Oliver has had a really bad day. I heard Jackson fuss downstairs, but when I went to his stroller, no one was watching him. Mom was with you, and your friend was outside, so I decided to walk Jackson around to keep him company. I showed him my room and my cello and he was so happy.”
She swallows. “Then I took him to Oliver’s room. I couldn’t believe how much they looked alike! They could have been twins. They were both wearing white onesies too.” Her voice sounds incredulous, reminding me just how young she really is. “So I set Jackson beside Oliver. He was still sleeping. They looked exactly alike, except for Jackson’s bells. I went to pick Jackson up, but then I thought about my mom. And how Pam is always so focused on Oliver. I thought it would be good to give them both a break.”
I almost retort that Jackson isn’t a toy but refrain. “Then what?” I ask instead.
“I picked up Oliver, and I rushed back downstairs and put him in Jackson’s stroller. He was still asleep. Jackson didn’t even cry. It’s like he wanted to be with me!”
Her rationalizations are ridiculous, but I don’t interrupt.
“Then you left. Mom had to go to work. Pam was still asleep. So I created a diversion to be safe.”
Crystal sucks a sharp breath. “You mean the fire?”
Savi sniffles. “I didn’t want to, but I knew Pam would find out what I had done, and I just wanted to keep Jackson for a little while. Just … just to see what it was like with a different baby. But when you fired her, I realized how lonely I would be. When she came back, she knew something was different. I was so afraid she was going to tell.”
I attempt to wrap my brain around this story. So the swap didn’t happen at the park. That was my mistake. It happened in the house where another baby was sleeping upstairs. The overlooked clue. The ultimate betrayal. The blatant lie.
I gather my words, unsure of what to say. “When did you know?” I direct my question at Crystal.
“I swear I didn’t know until you showed up to the vigil and said Oliver’s name. I knew things were quieter in our house and Pam said something seemed different, but I thought he might just be going through a new phase.” She’s quiet for a moment. “I guess I chose to believe what I wanted to believe.”
“I thought if I had the good baby, then Mom would be happy again,” Savi interrupts. “Everything was supposed to go back to normal. I didn’t think you’d notice, but you did.”
“Of course I noticed,” I snap. “He’s my child. I know the difference between my child and someone else’s.”
“But they look alike.” Savi exudes such childlike innocence in that statement, but she’s not innocent. Nothing about this is innocent.
Crystal sighs, and in that sigh are a thousand wrongdoings she can’t correct. “When you first told me what you suspected happened, I didn’t connect the dots, but at the vigil … I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know if Savi had taken him or if Pam had, or what I was even dealing with. I