Florence abruptly stood up from the bed. The missing piece had finally clicked into place.
“You planned that accident? Helen, I almost died!”
“Florence, no, of course I didn’t plan the car accident! I would never do that to you. My plan was to hire a boat and go for a swim out past the waves, and then I was going to disappear from there. The car accident was just that—an accident. I promise. But I saw the opportunity, and I took it.”
“What do you mean you took it? Were you even in the car? Where are your bruises? Where are your broken bones?” She thrust her cast in Helen’s face.
“I don’t know, Florence,” Helen said calmly. “I was lucky. It all happened so fast. I swam out of the car and made it to the beach at the base of the cliff. We went over the edge pretty close to where the cliff started to rise. It was only a ten-foot drop into the water. On the shore, thank god, I saw that that fisherman had rescued you. I stayed on the beach until my clothes were dry. Then I hitched a ride to the bus station. I’d hidden a lot of cash at the riad we stayed in in Marrakesh. I retrieved it and went on to Rabat. That’s where I’d arranged to get new papers.”
Helen was explaining it all so dispassionately, like she was recounting a recipe for lasagna. As if Florence would be a fool for not understanding. Maybe she was a fool, because she didn’t understand. Not at all. The facts weren’t cohering into a cogent narrative.
“So why did you even come back?”
“I was sitting at a café in Rabat a few days after the accident and I happened to glance over at my neighbor’s paper, and there it was—my name, Helen Wilcox. I asked him to tell me what it said. And that’s when I realized what had happened. I realized that you were pretending to be me. Or I don’t know, maybe you’d hit your head and you thought you were me. And you had no idea what you were getting into. I knew the police would come after you. For Jenny. For this mess I’d left behind.”
Florence felt like her legs were going to collapse. She sat back down next to Helen. They were silent for a moment.
“Listen,” Helen finally said. “I know this is a lot to process. And I understand that you might be angry. You have every right to be angry. But I have tried at every turn to keep you as safe as possible. I came back to protect you. I have always had your best interests at heart.”
There was an unfamiliar tone in Helen’s voice: needy and pleading. Florence realized all of a sudden that she held all the power. She could turn Helen in if she wanted. She could call the police right now. She’d love to see the look on the faces of Officer Idrissi and Dan Massey when she produced the real Helen Wilcox.
But then what? Then Florence would have no choice but to fly back to the US with no home, no job, and no money. Knowing that she’d put Maud Dixon in prison.
Florence put her head in her hands.
“You’re exhausted,” Helen said. “Why don’t you get some rest. We can talk more in the morning.”
Florence nodded. “Here, let me get my stuff out of your room,” she said halfheartedly.
“It’s fine. You stay. I’ll go down the hall.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course.” At the door, Helen turned back to Florence with a sly smile. “Do you want to know what my first reaction to seeing that newspaper article in Rabat was?”
“What?”
“I thought, Good for her. I was impressed you’d pulled it off. I realize that might be an unorthodox response to learning that your assistant has stolen your identity, but as you know, the herd mentality has never held much appeal for me.”
Florence smiled wearily. “I guess I learned from the best.”
“I can’t deny that. Though even I might have slipped up. There’s really no one here who knows you’re Florence Darrow?”
“Well…I sort of had to tell this guy I’m seeing.”
“Does Helen Wilcox have a boyfriend?” Helen asked, amused.
“Kind of. That guy Nick? With the dreds?”
Helen grimaced. “I see I still need to teach you a thing or two about your taste in men.”
Florence laughed. “He’s sweet.”
“Sweet is just a polite way of saying dull.”
In a gentler tone, Helen added, “Listen, all joking aside, I know I’ve given you a lot to take in, and I understand if you’re feeling overwhelmed. Just remember that we’re on the same side here. My plan is still to disappear, but I’m going to do it in a way that leaves you safe. And very well compensated. Okay?” She caught Florence’s eye.
Florence nodded. “Okay.”
“Good girl.” She slipped out the door and pulled it shut behind her with a crisp click.
*
Florence drifted in and out of fitful sleep. The music from downstairs kept waking her up, then she’d remember that Helen was back and a whir of questions would start up in her head. Things she wished she’d asked but hadn’t.
At one point she felt a presence in the room. She sat up. It was Helen, standing a few feet away, watching her. A shaft of moonlight illuminated half her body.
“Helen? Are you okay?”
“I couldn’t sleep. I thought maybe you’d be up too. But never mind. It’s late.”
“It’s okay.” She pushed herself further up. “Come sit.”
“No, no. Go back to sleep.” Helen left the room.
A few minutes later, Florence wasn’t sure that it hadn’t been a dream.
Then she woke up again. It was still dark. The air felt tense, like a shrill violin string had just been plucked.
She put her feet on the cold floor and walked out into the hallway. It was quiet except for the fountain gurgling in the courtyard below.
She went downstairs. The living room was a mess, but no one was there. Meg and the others must have left.
There was a shuffling sound from out on the terrace. She opened the French doors at the back of the house and saw Helen silhouetted against the dark sky. She was standing by the pool.
“Helen?”
Helen jumped and spun around with her hand on her heart. “Florence, you scared me.”
“What are you doing?”
“I couldn’t sleep. It’s so peaceful out here now that the heat has lifted.”
“Are you okay?”
“It’s been a long few days. Weeks. Months.”
“Do you want company?”
“No, go back to sleep. I’ll be in soon.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure. Good night.”
Florence went back upstairs but she couldn’t get back to sleep. She picked up her book. A half hour later she heard Helen’s footsteps on the stairs. They paused briefly outside her room, then kept going down the hall. The door to Helen’s room shut quietly.
43.
Florence went downstairs shortly after dawn. She hadn’t been able to fall back asleep after finding Helen outside by the pool. She guessed that had been around four in the morning.
Amira started when Florence walked into the kitchen.
“It’s early,” she said.
Florence nodded. “Is there coffee yet?”
“I’m making it now.”
Florence wondered what time Amira arrived in the morning. She was always already there.