The Good Liar(62)

The front door opened.

Cassie was standing there. “We’re not—omigod, omigod. Mom!”

“What is it, Cassie? And what did I tell you about—”

Cecily appeared. When she saw Kate, she turned white. Kate stepped forward to hold her up.

“Don’t touch me!”

Kate recoiled. “I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry.”

“How can . . .”

A group of happy kids ran past the house, their parents calling after them to wait up.

Cecily stepped back. “You need to leave or come inside.”

“What?”

“If you don’t want the whole world to know you’re alive, come inside right now.”

Kate stepped inside. Cecily closed the door quickly behind her. Kate was overwhelmed. There in the entranceway surrounded by boots and hooked coats, she felt dizzy. Cassie and Cecily stood there, echoes of each other, both casual in jeans and warm sweaters. Staring.

“Thank you—”

Cecily held up her hand. “Do not say that. God, I don’t even know why I care. Why should I protect you? What the fuck, Kaitlyn? What the fuck?”

“I can explain.”

“There’s no way you can explain any of this.”

“You’re right. I probably can’t.”

“You’re alive. My God. You’re alive.”

“I’m alive.”

Cassie’s eyes were wide, and she looked as if she was trying to speak. She leaned against her mother. Cecily put her arm around Cassie’s shoulder. Her eyes narrowed at Kate.

“You ran away?”

“I ran away.”

“Stop doing that.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Cassie, go upstairs.”

“But Mom—”

“Go upstairs right now. Do not tell your brother who’s here. Tell him to stay in his room. And do not text anyone or call anyone or do anything online.”

“Mom—”

“Do it now, Cassie.”

Cassie looked frightened by her mother’s tone. She turned on her heel and ran up the stairs. A door slammed.

“How dare you?” Cecily spat out the words.

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop saying that. You were my friend.”

“I had to go, Cecily. I can’t explain it; I just had to.”

“Because of Tom?”

“What? Omigod, no. Not . . . You know about that?”

“I know about that. I know about that now.”

Kate backed up until she hit the front door. “I’ll go.”

“You’re not getting off that easily. You, what, ran away, let us all think you were dead, and now you’re back? What the fuck is going on? Why are you here?”

“Franny Maycombe. She’s the reason I came back.”

“Seriously? I should’ve known you were capable of doing something like this when I found out you hid her from us. How could you do that, Kaitlyn? How could you not even tell me that you had a daughter? After everything I shared with you?”

“But I didn’t. That’s why I’m here. Franny’s not my daughter.”

“What?”

“I swear to God. I’ve never seen that woman in my life.”





Interview Transcript

TJ: Thanks for coming in again, Franny. It’s been a couple weeks. How are you?

FM: I’m fine. I’m good, actually. Really good.

TJ: I’m glad to hear that.

FM: I’ve been thinking about our last conversation, you know.

TJ: You have?

FM: Yeah, like, a lot. And I just want to make it clear that my family—my adopted family—they have nothing to do with this. Nothing to do with who I am today or what I’m about.

TJ: I find it interesting that you’d say that.

FM: I’m not sure what you mean.

TJ: Well, everyone’s a product of their family, aren’t they?

FM: I don’t think so.

TJ: Why not?

FM: I think you can, you know, overcome your family. Like, there are people who had terrible childhoods, just the worst, but they’re out in the world acting like normal people. They’re not drug dealers or whatever. They have jobs and families and they’re doing things. Normal things. So they didn’t get caught by their circumstance.

TJ: Is that what you did?

FM: Maybe. I mean, I don’t want you to think my adoptive parents were bad or anything. They didn’t, like, abuse me. But like I said before, there was always this different thing about me in that house, like I was a guest who stayed too long, like I should be looking for somewhere else to live.

TJ: Are you sure about that?

FM: Of course I am. I mean, my sister even said that to me when I was a junior in high school. Like she expected me to move out right after graduation, even though she hadn’t, because then our parents didn’t have any responsibility for me anymore.

TJ: That sounds cruel.

FM: She was cruel. I’m telling you. That’s why we don’t talk anymore.

TJ: Yes, well, that’s one of the things I wanted to talk to you about.

FM: What do you mean?

TJ: We’ve spoken to Sherrie.