Mother. It was still Penny, but even shy, timid girls have their breaking points.
“Don’t be upset,” Grace said. “You’re safe. Trust me. I’m working hard to help you.”
“Just get me out of here,” Penny pleaded, her lower lip jutting out in a pouty way.
“This is a long process,” said Grace, “we have to talk first.”
“Talk? Okay, let’s talk.” Penny slumped in her chair. “I don’t even know why I’m here.”
Grace sent Mitch a look that brought him forward. “You told us some things in the ER, things you remembered. You said to Dr. Mitch you weren’t alone that night. Do you recall that conversation?”
Penny eyed Mitch with focused intent, and Grace thought she saw a flicker of recognition burst forth in her eyes.
“I don’t remember that,” Penny said, pulling her hand from under Grace’s with a quick jerk of her arm.
Mitch stepped forward. “Your memories will help us explain everything to you,” he said. “You told me about a book you were reading. Something with water and boats on the cover?”
Penny shifted her focus from her mother to Mitch and back again, frustration straining her unblemished face. She was so young to be dealing with so much. Grace felt an ache that only mothers with a sick and helpless child can know.
Penny returned a slow shake of her head. “I don’t know about any book, and I won’t do anything you ask me, not a single thing, until I get some answers.” She’d issued her ultimatum with uncharacteristic authority, but Grace knew it was still Penny making her demand known. “I remember being in the ER,” she continued. “There were people in handcuffs … patients in a hospital in handcuffs. Now, what’s that about?”
Pride flooded Grace as she witnessed her child’s self-advocacy. Perhaps she’d been underestimating Penny’s resiliency.
Mitch was about to say something, but Grace raised a hand to stop him.
“There was a crime and the police think you hurt someone. The crime was a murder,” Grace said somberly.
Penny’s eyelids sank. “Do people think I did it? This is a prison hospital or something, isn’t it?” Her soft-spoken voice belonged to the old Penny again, her short-lived vibrato gone as if it never had been. How Grace wished she had Arthur at her side. “Better together” was his motto, the phrase he’d always say about the family. That wasn’t an option right now, so she pushed ahead, undaunted.
“Yes, it’s a prison hospital specifically for people with mental health issues. It’s called Edgewater. And yes, they think you committed a murder,” Grace confessed.
Penny bit her lower lip, her head still downcast. “Do they have evidence against me?” A shaky voice implied she knew the answer.
“They do. A lot.”
“Who was murdered?”
Grace turned to Mitch for guidance, but he shifted on his feet, seeming as unsure as she felt.
She waited a beat, then two, and finally said, “The victim is a woman named Rachel Boyd.”
Grace braced herself for a volatile reaction that didn’t come. Then something caught in Penny’s throat, and an instant later, tears flooded her eyes.
“Mom—” Penny closed her eyes tightly. “She contacted me … Facebook, we exchanged messages … she told me … to keep it a secret, and I did. She wanted to meet. I remember now … I took the car to meet her … I know I shouldn’t have, but I did, and I’m sorry—”
“It’s okay, love,” Grace said, reaching across the table to take hold of Penny’s hands again.
“I … I killed Rachel?”
“That’s what people are saying,” said Grace.
“Why would I do that?”
“We’re trying to get some answers,” Grace replied.
Off to her left, Mitch kept the camera trained on Penny.
“Think about that book, okay?” he encouraged. Grace appreciated his redirection. It was similar to the way he handled Darla not long ago. “You said it had a dark blue cover, boats in the water.”
For a moment, nothing happened.
“Go on, darling. Try to picture it,” Grace implored.
“I can’t.” Penny made a frustrated sound, but Grace patted her hand to encourage her to keep trying. Soon Penny stilled, and Grace sensed something transpiring. “Wait, I do see it,” she said in a hushed voice after a moment’s pause. “The book.”