Everyone Here Is Lying(19)
But it’s also something they will be judged on. People will have opinions, and they won’t hesitate to share them. Social media has made everything exponentially worse. Gully knows that people handle stress and grief in different ways. Some parents cry. Some can’t cry because they’re in shock. And some of those watching will interpret shock as coldness, as lack of feeling. What can you do? Gully thinks. A certain proportion of the public is always going to automatically think the parents had something to do with the disappearance of their little girl and interpret whatever they see in the parents’ behavior as confirmation. And they don’t know the half of it, Gully thinks to herself, remembering their interviews with Dr. Wooler, his wife, and his son earlier that morning.
The detectives know more than they’re telling the public. They know Avery was in the house that afternoon, with someone else. They know the father has no alibi, that he has hit his daughter on occasion, that the marriage is strained because of it. They know that Avery wasn’t wearing her jean jacket after all. But for now, they’re not sharing any of that.
Bledsoe steps up to the mic and introduces himself. “Thank you for coming,” he says. “Yesterday afternoon, Avery Wooler, age nine, left Ellesmere Elementary School at approximately three forty-five p.m. and walked home alone. She hasn’t been seen since she left the school. She’s four foot two inches, about sixty pounds, with blond hair and blue eyes. She was last seen wearing dark-blue jeans, a white T-shirt with daisies on the front, pink sneakers, and a dark-blue jean jacket. If you saw Avery or any suspicious person, activity, or vehicle in the vicinity where Avery went missing, or if you have any information that might be relevant, please call the number on your screen. Now, the parents are going to say a few words. Please be respectful. And they will take no questions.”
Bledsoe steps away from the mic and beckons Erin and William forward while Gully watches intently.
Erin speaks first. She has a certain tragic dignity. Her voice is quiet and would be lost without the mic. She stares down at the paper, trembling in her hands. “Our daughter, Avery, is missing. She’s a beautiful, smart little girl with her whole life ahead of her. We love her, and we want her back desperately. Please help us find her.” She lifts her eyes and cameras flash, making her blink.
William takes the mic from her and reads. “Avery, if you can hear us, know that we love you and want you back more than anything.” He seems to falter and then recovers. “If someone out there has our daughter, we beg you, please return her to us. Leave her in a safe place. That’s all we ask. She’s just a little girl. You can let her go. If you let her go, everything can still be all right.”
* * *
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Nora, in street clothes, but wearing a lanyard that identifies her as a hospital volunteer, hurries down the corridor toward the lounge, her shoes squeaking on the floor tiles, just before noon. She knows they’re going to be broadcasting a live television appeal about Avery—everyone has been talking about it, and she knows that they’ll have the television on in the lounge. Nora is desperate to see William, even if it’s only through a television screen; she hasn’t seen him since they parted at the motel, and so much has happened since then. She needs to study his face, try to intuit how he’s doing. As she enters the lounge, with the television mounted near the ceiling in the corner, she sees that it’s crowded with staff—everyone who can possibly manage it is here.
They are all worried about Dr. Wooler and his missing daughter. Nora sits down in one of the last remaining seats, beside Marion Cooke, one of the nurses she works with regularly, who also happens to live on Connaught Street. Marion glances at her briefly and turns her attention quickly back to the screen. Dr. Vezna looks particularly upset, Nora notes, as do a couple of the nurses. Nora wonders what her own face looks like. She glances around the room. They are all colleagues of Dr. Wooler’s; they all like and respect him. He’s known to be smart, caring, and hardworking; many of them have been working with him for years. Everyone has been upset at work today.
And then Nora remembers the phone. When that comes out, everyone in this room will know about their affair. She suddenly feels light-headed.
It’s completely silent in the lounge as the appeal begins. After the words from the detective, Avery’s mother speaks. Nora stares at her, hardly recognizing her. She remembers Erin as a very attractive woman—she has seen her at hospital events—but you wouldn’t know it now. And then it’s William’s turn. Nora can’t bear it, seeing the pain and fear on William’s face as he reads into the microphone. And then he’s speaking as if directly to the person who has taken his daughter, begging for her safe return. She can’t believe for a single moment that he isn’t sincere. Nobody could doubt him, she thinks, watching him. She glances at Dr. Vezna, who has a hand pressed against her mouth. Others around her are in various states of stoicism or distress. It’s like being at a funeral, Nora thinks, but pushes the thought away. She can’t bear to think of William’s daughter being missing—or dead. She wills herself not to cry. She feels for the tissue in the pocket of her trousers.
Marion, sitting beside her, is one of the stoic ones. But she is the first to get up and leave when it’s over. Nora knows how Marion feels about William and suspects Marion wants to be alone.