Stockholm

Chapter 19

"What made you want to look into this case?" Mary asks me.

Our waters are empty, the recorder on my phone slipping past two hours but I make no move to stop it. The photograph of Baby and Chloe sit on the counter. Mary has picked them up and studied them countless times as she's asked me questions about the case, the players in them, Scotty and what I think he's done. Everything that's led up to finding the Whittaker's name.

I haven't said the words aloud, hoping she'll string the facts together. I don't want to be the one to accuse them, not when she speaks so warmly of them.

"My dad was a cop when Chloe went missing. It was an obsession, a necessity for him, to solve it. He..uh...passed away before he was able to though." I say. "I guess the apple doesn't fall too far from the tree."

I shrug my shoulders, glancing down at Chloe's picture. My dad used to sit at the dining room table, staring at this picture long after he tucked my mom into bed. I remember peering through the crack of my door as a kid, watching him trying to memorize every detail, unable to tear his eyes away.

We sit together in silence, the time slipping by us. Mary hasn't given me anything I can look into. I was hoping I could get her talking, that information would slip out, anything I could look into. But she's been vague with answers, asking questions of me instead. I'm not ready to go back to the board, to try and dig up a new lead, if there's even one to dig up. I thought I had something.

That thought sits heavy in my mind. My desperation to solve this case probably clouding my judgment. Have I conjured it all up in my head? Maybe Scotty misremembered, maybe he was lying. The latter is probably true. He probably played me. Anger starts to brew, bubbling up inside me as Chloe and her chocolate cupcake stained face stares back at me forever young.

"Give me one moment." Mary says. "Help yourself to some more water."

I'm not thirsty but as she leaves me alone in the kitchen, I do as she says. Filling both glasses with water. It's then that I stop my recording, settling back down onto a stool and take a sip of water. More absent thought than anything.

Mary comes back a minute later, an envelope in her hand that she keeps close to her. There's nothing decipherable on the side I can see, nothing to tell me what it is.

"During our tea, Kate told me that they had struggled to get pregnant. A few miscarriages, they had done fertility treatment, IVF, even tried to adopt and once the mother had the baby she decided to keep it. Kate was devastated. She had a whole nursery decorated, packed full of toys and clothes. Anything a baby could ever want or need and then some."

She looks anywhere but at me and I can feel guilt and sadness waft off of her in waves. Part of me wants to tell her it's okay, I understand. I could have empathy for her, for loving these people. But the other part of me doesn't care if they were hurting, if they were struggling. If they did in fact hire Scotty to kidnap Chloe, they don't deserve my empathy. And if Mary knew about it, neither does she.

But I swallow all of it down for the time being, pushing away the feelings that want to bully their way out of me and let her continue.

"They sold their house so fast, without any warning. One day we were having tea together and the next day she was saying goodbye. I never did get a straight answer from her. All she said was they had to start fresh, they had to get away."

Mary sets the envelope down, sliding it across the counter but she doesn't lift her hand. At least not right away.

"It was about a year before a letter showed up. Kate wrote to me. Said that they had found a nice town, a small town, that they had a baby. They were happy. She was happy." When she lifts her hand I don't make a move. Maybe I can't. "I really hope you're wrong but if you're not I can't be a part of it."