The Couple Next Door(62)

“That would be very difficult for any child to deal with,” the doctor said. He turned to Anne, who continued to ignore him. “Stress can temporarily worsen symptoms of this disorder. I suggest you see me regularly, to try to deal with some of the anxiety you’re feeling.”

Anne cried in the car all the way home. When they got there, before they went into the house, her mother hugged her and said, “It’s going to be all right, Anne.” Anne didn’t believe her. “We’ll tell your father that you’re seeing someone for anxiety. He doesn’t need to know about this other thing. He wouldn’t understand.”

They didn’t tell him about the incident at school. Anne’s mother handled the meetings with the parents of the other three girls from St. Mildred’s herself.

Since then there had been other “episodes,” mostly harmless, where Anne would lose time—minutes or sometimes hours—when she wouldn’t know what had happened while she was “gone.” They were brought on by stress. She would find herself somewhere unexpected, have no idea how she got there, and call her mother, who would come get her. But she’d had no episodes since her first year of college. It had all happened such a long time ago; she’d thought she’d put it behind her.

But, of course, she had immediately remembered it all after the kidnapping: What if the police found out? What if Marco found out and looked at her differently? But then the onesie had arrived—and her mother no longer looked at her as if she were afraid that Anne might have killed her own child and that Marco had helped to cover it up.

Now the police know that she attacked Susan. They think she is violent. All along, Anne has been afraid that the police would believe she was guilty, whether she was or not. But there are worse things than being wrongly accused.

Anne’s greatest fear now is that she is guilty.

Those first few days after Cora had been taken, when Anne was so sure that she’d been taken by some stranger—those had been difficult days, having to withstand the suspicion of the police, the public, and her own mother. She and Marco had borne it, because they knew they were innocent. They’d made one mistake—they’d left their baby unattended. But not abandoned.

But now, because of what happened the other night before she’d fallen asleep on the sofa, she had confused the search for signs of Marco’s unfaithfulness with the search for Cora. Reality had become distorted. She remembers thinking that Cynthia had stolen her child from her.

The illness was back. When, exactly, had it returned?

She thinks she knows. It came back the night of the kidnapping, after she slapped Cora. She lost time. She doesn’t know what happened.

It’s almost a relief now, realizing that she did it. Better that Cora be killed quickly by her own mother, in her own bedroom, with the familiar lambs looking on, than that she be taken by some monster and molested, tortured, terrified.

Anne should call her own mother. Her mother would know what to do. But Anne doesn’t want to call her mother. Her mother will try to cover it up, pretend it never happened. Like Marco. They’re all trying to cover up what she’s done.

She doesn’t want that anymore. She must tell the police. And she must do it now, before anyone tries to stop her. She wants everything out in the open. She can’t stand a minute more of the secrecy, the lies. She needs to know where her baby is, her final resting place. She needs to hold her one last time.

She glances out her bedroom window at the street. She doesn’t see any reporters out there now. She dresses quickly and calls a cab to bring her to the police station.

It seems to take a long time, but finally the cab arrives. She gets into the cab quickly and settles herself in the backseat, feeling strange but determined. She needs this to end. She will tell them what happened. She killed Cora. Marco must have arranged to have her taken away and then urged them to offer ransom money afterward, to mislead the police. But now Marco will have to stop protecting her. He will have to stop lying to her. He will have to tell them where he put Cora’s body, and then she will know. She must know where her baby is. She can’t stand not knowing.

She can’t trust anyone to tell the truth unless she goes first.

When she arrives at the police station, the officer behind the front desk looks at her with obvious concern.

“Are you all right, ma’am?” she asks.

“I’m fine,” Anne says quickly. “I want to see Detective Rasbach.” Her voice sounds strange to her own ears.

“He’s not here. It’s Sunday,” the officer says. “I’ll see if I can get him on the phone.” She has a brief conversation on the phone, puts it down, and says, “He’s on his way. He’ll be here in about half an hour.”

Anne waits impatiently, her mind in turmoil.

When Rasbach appears less than half an hour later, he is casually dressed, in khaki trousers and a summer shirt. He looks very different; Anne is used to him in a suit. She finds it disorienting.

“Anne,” he says, looking at her closely with those eyes that miss nothing. “What can I do for you?”

“I need to talk to you,” Anne says quickly.

“Where is your lawyer?” Rasbach asks. “I was informed that you would no longer talk to us without your lawyer present.”

“I don’t want my lawyer,” Anne insists.