48
Sofie
Huntsville, Alabama
1950
As I sat waiting for news, I tried to be grateful that this cell was large and well lit, that there was a mattress and a blanket on the bed, and even if it was out in the open, there was a toilet right there. Focusing on the differences between this cell and the last one I’d been in helped at first—but not for long. By the time the lock tumbled, I convinced myself I was going to be locked in that cell, starving and thirsty and terrified, for weeks without so much as an update on my husband or children.
But then Detective Tucker appeared in the doorway. He avoided my gaze, staring at the floor. My breath caught in my throat.
“Jürgen…” I whispered frantically.
“No,” he said hastily. “No, we haven’t had news. But you’re free to go.” He motioned for me to join him in the hallway and I shot to my feet and followed him.
As we started to walk toward the exit, I asked hesitantly, “But why are you releasing me?” It felt dangerous to ask, as if the question could lead me back into the cell.
“We have a new suspect.”
“Henry Davis,” I said grimly. He shook his head.
“No, ma’am. Lizzie Miller.” I was so shocked I stumbled, and Tucker caught my arm and gave me a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry for the trouble this morning. I imagine today has been stressful enough without this…unfortunate mix-up.”
I glanced at the interview room as we walked past, and through the little pane of glass at the top of the door, I saw Lizzie Miller—although at first, I barely recognized her. She was wearing an old man’s shirt that was sizes too big for her—so large she’d rolled the sleeves up to expose her hands. Her hair was in a tight little ponytail at the back of her head, and she wasn’t wearing makeup—revealing heavily freckled skin and eyelashes so faint they were almost invisible. Her expression was carefully blank as she stared up at the wall. I paused, trying to ignore the impulse to confront her.
She had no more pulled that trigger than I did. That didn’t mean she was innocent.
“Can I talk to her?”
“We really don’t need any more trouble,” Tucker said hesitantly.
“Please.”
He sighed as he nodded, and I pushed the door open. I sat opposite Lizzie as if I were the interrogator.
“What do you want?” she said, defensive as always, but I barely heard her. As I stared at her, I was startled to see something in her eyes I’d never noticed before.
Familiarity.
I had also made the wrong choices in a panic to protect my family, and I’d been forced to learn the hard way that even failure did not leave a person beyond salvation.
49
Lizzie
Huntsville, Alabama
1950
It was busy at the station, and for a while, I thought the detectives might have forgotten I was there. But then the door opened and Sofie Rhodes was standing there. She looked even worse than I felt—her eyes red rimmed, her face pale. When she walked, the robe she was wearing shifted, and I saw the dark, dried blood on her nightshirt.
I looked away, suddenly ashamed. I had only ever seen her as an enemy. Now I couldn’t pretend that I didn’t know she was once young and hopeful, the world at her feet.
“We are the same, you and me,” she said suddenly.
“We are nothing alike.”
“We are the kind of women who do whatever needs to be done—” she dropped her voice, and her gaze softened as she added “—especially when it comes to our family.”
My shoulders slumped. She immediately saw through my plan to protect Henry, just as I knew Calvin would. Would it matter? Could the police charge my brother for a crime I confessed to?
“I hope your husband is okay,” I whispered. She nodded to acknowledge she heard me, but her gaze was distant.
“We told ourselves that we were only protecting our family. In the end, we lost our son and our daughter anyway—and what’s almost as hard to live with now is that we lost ourselves in the process. It’s too late for us to make things right back home in Germany—that’s why it’s so important to Jürgen and me to build something good here.” She gave me a sad, searching look. “You only get one life, Mrs. Miller. If nothing else, you have to live it with integrity—true to yourself and your values, whatever the consequences.”
She closed the door behind her, leaving me alone again. The second hand on the clock seemed louder than ever. I stared up at it until my eyes watered.