1
CONRAD AND LUCY ARRIVE EARLY, BUT THEY ARE NOT IN THE ROOM when Jocelyn comes back for lunch. The morning has been full of tennis. Kate has managed to keep Missy in a different group. The lack of contact makes it seem as if they might get away with it. There’s no evidence. Her word against theirs.
Jocelyn assumes Conrad and Lucy are swimming or eating or getting into whatever trouble the two of them get into when she is not around. When I am not around, she thinks. There is no habit here. This is the first time. My daughter is fine. I will not be hard on myself.
There are tiny shoes strewn all over the floor and toys dumped by the French doors that lead outside. Jocelyn sits on the edge of the bed looking at her daughter’s things. The maid has turned down the bed, scrubbed the bathtub. There is no trace of Kate here.
She counts six tiny pairs of shoes—too many for one weekend. In the bathroom, there is a tiny pair of Hello Kitty underwear. Without being beckoned, thoughts of Conrad and Mr. Baird and men come to mind. The moments her daughter might be violated when she is out of her sight. She hates this—the full-color memories, the potential present, the half-formed future. She sits, closes her eyes, starts the tapping before the trauma takes hold.
The imprint of Jocelyn’s perpetrator lives inside her. She is aware of this. The girl too. They are like conjoined triplets. If she tries to kill one of them, she will kill them all.
She opens her eyes. Her heart rate has slowed. She focuses. This is my life, she thinks, staring at the tiny shoes. I can keep her safe. This is what I really want.
But there is that other thing too. She wants it and doesn’t want it. There is that other thing too.