“I’m sorry,” Drew says, and he means it. “I didn’t mean to drag you down the rabbit hole with me. Ruby Reyes’s parole is messing with my head. It feels like…” He pauses, searching for the words. “I feel like I’m grieving Joey all over again. I’m having a hard time letting her go. Maybe once this podcast is finished, I’ll finally be able to…” Forgive myself, he says in his head, but he can’t say it out loud, because it’s too hard. “To move on,” he says instead.
“I’m sorry, mate.” The detective’s voice is full of compassion. “I can imagine that Ruby Reyes being released would trigger all kinds of feelings. One of the things I learned early on is that if we want something to be true badly enough, we’ll find all the proof in the world that it is. Same if we don’t want something to be true. From everything I’ve read, Ruby Reyes is a monster, and it’s absolute shit that she’s getting out. You can spend the rest of your life trying to make sense of why she gets a second chance at life while her daughter—your friend—is dead, but it may never make sense. Learning to live with it doesn’t mean you’re betraying Joelle.”
Even though he’s alone in his car, Drew nods.
“So this is my unsolicited advice,” McKinley says. “Do your podcast. Give a voice to Joelle, and rip the Ice Queen to shreds so people will never forget who she is. But be kind to yourself, too. Whatever guilt you’re holding on to, it’s okay to forgive yourself and let it go. I’m sure Joelle would want you to move on.”
Drew doesn’t know if he can do that. “Great advice. Thank you, ma’am.”
“‘Ma’am’？” McKinley says, sounding indignant. “I looked you up, and I’m only six years older than you, you tosser.”
He swears he can hear the smile in her voice before the line disconnects.
The sergeant is right, Drew knows that. On some level, he understands that he’s trying to make it up to Joey somehow, as if righting a wrong today will somehow make up for the mother she had, and the life she lived.
Joey’s diaries stopped once her mother’s trial began. But in the last few entries, which Joey wrote in vivid detail, was the voice of a girl who had learned to accept that her life would always be shitty, because nobody ever told her she deserved better.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Joey was still sleeping on a mattress on the floor when Deborah Jackson came for her second visit. The social worker was not happy, and she spoke sternly to Joey’s aunt and uncle in the kitchen while Joey lingered （eavesdropped） in the living room.
“I’ll make it easy for you,” she heard Deborah say. “I’ll order the bed, and we’ll deduct the amount from your next payment. I passed a very nice furniture store in town that does next-day delivery.”
Tita Flora and Tito Micky talked to each other in Cebuano in hushed voices, and then Joey heard her aunt say, “There’s a sale at Sears. Mick will go now and buy something.”
“Great,” Deborah said. “I’ll stick around and see what he brings back. In the meantime, I’d like to take Joelle out for lunch.”
Twenty minutes later, Joey was plucking the pickles out of her Quarter Pounder as they sat in the only McDonald’s in Maple Sound.
“I’d like to talk to you about the upcoming hearing in family court next week,” Deborah said. “Most of what the judge needs to know will be presented through your medical exam, and testimony from other witnesses. You don’t have to be there, but I would like to ask your permission to read out passages from your diaries. Would that be all right?”
Joey shrugged.
“I understand you love your mother very much, Joelle.” Deborah’s voice was soft. “And I know this is painful, and confusing. I’m honored that you trusted me with your diaries, because I know trust doesn’t come easy for you. But once I read them, I was obligated to keep you safe. I have a feeling that’s why you let me take them.”
Joey could feel her face about to crumple, so she stuffed her mouth with french fries.
“Now, as you know, your mother’s murder trial is separate from the child abuse hearing.” Deborah speaks gently. “Your mother has requested a speedy trial, so the judge has set a date for the fall.”
“Will I have to testify?”
“Yes.”
“Will my mom be there when I do?”
“Yes. And so will I. But you’ll be well prepared. In the next few weeks, you’ll have to come back to Toronto to meet with the crown attorney—the prosecutor who’s trying your mother’s case—so she can go over all the questions you’ll be asked.”