As their mother starts frying the eggs, Avery asks, “Can I have some cookies?”
“Don’t you think you should have your eggs first?” their mother says.
“I want the cookies now,” Avery insists.
Her mother gets them from the cupboard and hands the package to her. Michael is staring at Avery, and she stares back at him as she noisily eats the cookies, straight from the bag. She doesn’t offer him any.
“I’m glad you’re back,” Michael says truthfully.
Avery looks back at him as if she doesn’t believe it.
It occurs to him that maybe she can’t really recognize love.
Forty-eight
Alice Seton is dismayed. She’s standing in her living room, peering out the window at the Wooler residence across the street. There’s a crowd of media there, and other people too. She sees a handmade sign on poster board and makes it out: welcome home avery.
She must be the only one who’s not completely happy that Avery is alive and well and back home.
When she heard the news that Avery had reappeared, she couldn’t believe it. She wasn’t home when Avery had been discovered outside Marion Cooke’s house, so she didn’t see any of it with her own eyes. But she heard all about it afterward, from various neighbors, when she arrived home with Jenna from her ballet class. She saw the commotion in the street and got the whole unbelievable story.
Marion Cooke, she thinks, staring out the window. She can’t believe that either. Like probably everyone else, she’d assumed Avery had been taken and murdered by some man. She’d worried for the safety of her own daughter.
She hadn’t known Marion Cooke, except by sight. And now she’s dead. Why would she have taken Avery?
She’s not proud of it, but her first thought when she heard Avery was alive was not relief or happiness. She’d thought that Avery was dead. She’d taken a certain unholy comfort in that. Because if Derek had ever done anything to Avery, no matter how mild or innocent, she wouldn’t be around to tell. She never trusted Avery. There’s something about her. Jenna says she tells lies.
Now, she watches nervously from across the street. She tries to be happy for Erin, but her mind frets. Will the police follow up on her story about an older boy? Or will they let it go? Erin is not likely to let it go. Maybe Avery will admit she made it up. Maybe it wasn’t Derek at all. But maybe she’ll tell them something else, something nasty and untrue. Peter comes up quietly behind her, puts his hands on her shoulders.
“Don’t worry,” he says, as if reading her mind. “There’s no way Derek ever did anything to Avery. Let’s just be happy that she’s okay.”
* * *
? ? ?
The atmosphere is one of celebration in the Blanchard house. Ryan has been released and has come home. They almost can’t believe this sudden reversal of their fortunes. But there’s an undercurrent of distress.
Al had come back this morning. Nora hasn’t spoken a word directly to her husband since he got home. He doesn’t seem at all remorseful for striking her. She catches him looking at her occasionally with an expression of revulsion, or perhaps alarm—she isn’t sure; she can’t read him anymore. She can hardly bear to be around her husband. She’s afraid of him.
She, Al, and Faith were home when it happened. They were in the kitchen. Faith had come back from her sleepover at Samantha’s. They noticed the commotion—a police cruiser sped down their street, siren blaring, then an ambulance—they watched it all happen from a distance.
Not long after that, Ryan was released and brought home. Nora had almost collapsed with relief, giving silent, fervent thanks to God.
Now it’s been hours since Nora found out that it was Marion who’d had Avery all along. Her husband hadn’t done anything to that poor girl. Now that she knows the truth, it seems impossible that she ever suspected him. She must have been out of her mind with fear for her son, and with her own guilt. She couldn’t have been thinking straight. Al wasn’t capable of such a thing. He’d hit her, but she’d just accused him of murdering a child! It wasn’t Al who was a wolf in sheep’s clothing—it was Marion, a nurse at the hospital, someone she regularly worked with. And she’d had no idea. No one had.
So far, there’s nothing in the news about why Marion might have done it; all they know are the barest facts—Avery was held captive in Marion Cooke’s basement, Avery escaped, and Marion is dead.
But Nora knows why.
Marion was in love with William. Nora had always known it, had seen it in how Marion acted around him, how she looked at him when she didn’t think she was being observed. And Marion must have known, somehow, that William was in love with Nora. So Marion took his child and blamed Nora’s. Marion is the monster, not Al. But it’s Nora who’s to blame. If it weren’t for her, her adultery, her sin, none of this would have ever happened.
And every time she glances at her husband, she wonders if he’s thinking the same thing, that she’s at the center of this somehow. But he doesn’t come near her, doesn’t quietly throw it in her face that she was so wrong about him. Instead, he avoids her.
It stuns her, all of it. What if Marion had succeeded? What if she’d killed Avery? Avery might never have been found. Ryan would never have been cleared of suspicion, and neither would William. Their lives would have been destroyed. Erin would never have recovered. Marion’s plan was perfectly designed to sabotage any possibility of happiness for her and William together. How evil Marion was. How she must have hated them both.
Forty-nine
Gully switches on the video recorder, and they begin. She and Bledsoe are in their usual armchairs, while Avery sits on the sofa, flanked on either side by her two parents. In view of her tender age, they’ve decided to do this at her home rather than in the police station. Michael has been asked to retire upstairs, and he went willingly enough. Gully wonders if he’ll be listening around the corner, out of sight. That’s what she would do if she were him.
“Avery,” Bledsoe begins, “I know this is difficult, but it’s important that you tell us everything that happened, from the beginning, on Tuesday afternoon. Can you do that?”
She nods bravely and takes a deep breath. “Okay. Ms. Burke sent me home from choir.” She stops.
“Did you come straight home?” Bledsoe prods. She nods. “Can you speak for the tape, please, Avery?”
“Yes. I was supposed to wait for Michael, but I didn’t want to. Mom and Dad haven’t given me my own key yet, but there’s a key under the front mat. Michael told me.” She continues. “I went into the kitchen.” She pauses again.
It’s almost like she’s dragging things out slowly for effect, Gully thinks. She tries to dismiss the uncharitable thought, but now that Avery is in front of her, rather than an idea of a girl she’s trying to find, she realizes she’s not warming to the real girl. There’s something about her. From what she’s briefly observed, Avery seems to have her mother, father, and older brother wrapped around her little finger. They seem to be completely in her thrall. It’s an odd family. She didn’t think so until Avery returned, just that they had problems, like everybody else.