Marty hauled herself up in bed, wincing, and I handed her a glass of water. She looked like hell, which scared me, but if she was fishing for compliments, she couldn’t be too far off her usual form.
“You, my dear, are the only person in the world who could have produced such a miraculous baby. It is clear that she got all of her looks from you, and the best thing she could do with her life would be to imitate you in every respect. She is the most beautiful girl in the world, but you my dear”—he kissed his wife on the forehead—“are a goddess.”
Marty’s hair was slicked back with sweat, her eyes were puffy from crying and dark-lined from lack of sleep, and her skin was slack and sallow. Still, she smiled; and if Kam had been telling me that—he believed it with every fiber of his being—I would have believed him too.
Putting down the phone, I thought about what Marty had told me and, suddenly, I felt my stomach heave. I made it to the bathroom, felt the tiles dig into my knees as I stumbled across the floor to the toilet, just in time. I wiped my mouth, flushed, and then washed my face. That’s m’girl, Emma. Keep your cool when your friend needs you to melt down, and lose it after.
I didn’t look in the mirror, I didn’t want to see what would be looking back at me. I felt the shakes come on, and clutched the sink until it had passed.
God, what was I doing? It was one thing to get myself into this, it was another to drag everyone else into it.
But I wasn’t dragging anyone, I protested; they were being targeted by a crazy man. It wasn’t my fault. I tried to stop him, had at least got the police pointed at him, exposed him at least. If he couldn’t stay decently escaped, then that wasn’t my fault.
Sophia wouldn’t be endangered, at least not in Marty’s mind, if it weren’t for you…
Yeah, well. How the hell was I supposed to predict this would happen? And if I had, wouldn’t I have taken steps to avoid it?
Marty wants me out of her life. Away from her and Kam and Sophia, and oh, God…
How the hell did someone in the Pine Island lockup get Sophia’s picture? A picture that was mailed to me? I mulled over that a while and realized that I’d been at home when Marty claimed that she’d sent the picture. When I hadn’t been home, the alarm had been on. Something gnawed at me, and I realized that I’d left Artie alone one day when I’d gone to CaféNation. I’d ask him if he’d noticed anything. The mail usually came late morning; maybe he could shed some light on this. He might have seen someone at the box at the end of the driveway, especially if he was on a cruller break.
The phone rang again; it was Kam.
“Emma, I’ve just finished with the police. It’s just as you said, it appears to be a hoax.” I’d never heard him sound so serious and he was a serious guy.
I exhaled in relief. “Thank God for that. Did they say—”
He continued on, as if he hadn’t heard me. “It doesn’t much change things for us. It still remains: Someone has threatened my daughter. And you seem to be connected.”
I almost protested, but caught myself: He had a point. “At least tell me, what did the cops say?”
“They said it was a fake but it had all the right marks. Very convincing.” He paused, then said, “They wanted to know where the picture came from. It had your name on the back, of course. And I assured them, it couldn’t be you.”
“Thanks for that.” I tried not to sound as bitter as I felt. “I never even saw the picture. Marty says she sent it to me? Then someone must have intercepted it, taken it from the mailbox—”
Kam had no time for my speculation. “Emma, the police believed me. But…they took less convincing than Marty will. She’s not sure what’s going on, but I strongly urge you to…give her some space. Until we know what is going on, for certain.”
I had to protest now. “She knows it isn’t me! How could she ever—?”
“She doesn’t think it’s you, not truly, but there’s some connection and, Emma…this is our daughter. I think you’ll agree that whatever your friendship with Marty may be, Sophia and her