‘Hang on, I’m texting you a photo of my patient, your daughter Anna Desroches. It’s a picture I took of us together, on her birthday last March.’
‘Okay,’ Maggie said slowly, and in the next moment, her text alert chimed again and a photo popped onto her phone screen. It showed Ellen, grinning with her arm around a young girl with blue eyes, a big smile, and dimples. The girl looked a lot like Anna, that is, the Anna that Maggie had known as her daughter.
‘Maggie, are you there? Are you okay? I warned you, it’s shocking.’
‘I don’t understand,’ Maggie said, repeating herself. She couldn’t tear her eyes from the photo. ‘Are you saying this is Anna, in this photo with you?’
‘Yes, exactly.’ Ellen’s tone turned adamant, even urgent. ‘This is your daughter, Anna Ippoliti Desroches, with me. It’s a selfie. As I said, we took the picture last March on her seventeenth birthday.’
‘I’m confused. Is Anna with you now?’ Maggie didn’t understand. It didn’t make any sense.
‘No. She’s missing. Anna is missing. She must have disappeared over Spring Break, last year.’
‘Wait, what?’ Maggie’s mind reeled. ‘So the person that I thought was my daughter wasn’t my daughter?’
‘Yes, the last time I saw Anna was before Spring Break, on April 3 at our regular Monday appointment, and we talked about her reaching out to you. We talked about everything I told you when we met at Graham Center.’
‘So then what happened to her?’
‘We don’t understand what happened or how. But we know that the person in the newspaper is not Anna. Even though the girl in the newspaper looks like Anna and seems about the same age, it’s not Anna.’
‘It’s really not Anna?’ Maggie felt stunned. She squinted at the selfie. ‘This is my daughter? In the photo with you? So the girl I took home was only pretending to be my daughter?’
‘Yes, we believe she must have been.’
‘What’s her name?’ Maggie asked, dumbfounded. ‘Who is she? Was she?’
‘We don’t know. I just discovered this a few hours ago, myself, and I went to the Head of School Morris Whitaker and Assistant Head of School Jack Amundsen. I’m with them now. We’ve already contacted the Congreve and the Maine State Police.’
‘My God.’ Maggie thought back to her visit to Congreve, that night. ‘But I walked her to her dorm. She went inside and packed while I went to see you. Didn’t anybody wonder who she was and why she was taking Anna’s things?’
‘We wondered that ourselves, so we contacted the students, who are now seniors. One of them remembered the girl because she looked like Anna. The imposter, for lack of a better term, told them she was a paralegal sent over by James Huntley, a lawyer in town.’
‘I know him. He handled Anna’s trust.’
‘Yes, we checked with him. He’s on vacation in Florida but we reached him there. He did not send over a paralegal, and he had no knowledge of this. He concurs that the girl in the photo is not Anna.’ Ellen cleared her throat. ‘In addition, our records show that our registrar received an email from Anna’s email address at 9:02 A.M. on Friday, April 21, telling them she was withdrawing from Congreve that very day. We do not know if that email came from the real Anna or the imposter. We assume word got around at Parker, and that’s the reason that no one questioned the imposter when she packed Anna’s room. She left campus that night, with you.’
‘An imposter.’ Maggie’s head was spinning. She had so many questions, but only one mattered. ‘Where’s the real Anna? Where’s my daughter?’
‘We don’t know. You may want to fly up. There’s a snowstorm predicted but if you hurry, you can get in. Text me when you arrive. Come directly to the Administration Rotunda.’
‘I’m on my way, bye.’ Maggie hung up, then rose, texting Kathy. ‘Caleb!’
Chapter Sixty-five
Noah, After
Noah didn’t know what CO Evesham had meant by they’re expecting you, but it couldn’t be good. He walked behind CO Evesham along the second tier of Cellblock C, which was fully 250 feet long, with two tiers of cells on either side. The cells were full, two inmates to a cell, and they were locked at this hour, almost lights out. Noah kept his eyes front as they passed, fixed on CO Evesham, whose meaty build strained the seams of his black uniform with epaulets and gold-and-black PADOC patches.
Inmates came to their cell doors, leaning their elbows on the crossbars, yelling, ‘Hey, doc,’ ‘Yo!’ and one inmate called, ‘The Doctor is in!’ to laughter. It wasn’t like on TV, with inmates hollering lurid things like ‘fresh meat,’ but the reality was more sinister. Noah sensed an undercurrent rippling down the cellblock as he passed, like a dark undertow rolling beneath the surface.
‘This is you.’ CO Evesham stopped at a cell toward the end of the row, where his cellmate, an older inmate, was lying on the bottom bunk, reading an old Louis L’Amour paperback, his legs crossed at the ankles. The man was about seventy years old, short and slight, with wispy gray hair, a straight nose that held a crooked pair of bifocals, and a benign grin, though appearances could be deceiving in prison. At MCCF, it had been the old gangsters that were the real threat, ordering the dirty work that the young ones did.
‘Go in and turn around,’ CO Evesham said, and Noah obeyed as the CO unlocked the cell, then uncuffed him. Noah dumped his mattress and sheets on the top bunk, and CO Evesham locked the door and walked away.
‘I’m Noah Alderman,’ he said, and the old man stood up, extending a withered hand.
‘Mike Smith, but they call me Peach because I’m wrinkly.’ Peach leaned a knobby elbow on the bed frame.
‘Hi, Peach.’ Noah unrolled the mattress, glancing around. The cell was six by twelve, and the walls were grimy white cinder block. A long skinny window was set lengthwise at the end, and underneath was Peach’s shelf, which held toiletries, paperback books, and oddly, a magazine collage of Tony Bennett.
‘You look like Dr Kildare, from the TV. You old enough to know Dr Kildare? Good-looking guy. A doctor. Dr Kildare.’
‘Right, Dr Kildare.’ Noah sensed Peach was the chatty sort. He set his toilet kit on a narrow metal shelf next to an open toilet and a urinal.
‘You got in late. Normally they don’t do intake this late. They tell you your job assignment?’
‘No.’ Noah unfolded his single sheet and tucked it around the thin mattress.
‘You gotta get a good one. I work in the leather shop. I make boots. That’s the best. There’s a waiting list. The only people who work there are lifers. They gotta die for something to open up.’
‘What else is a good job?’ Noah got the sheet on, and the buzzer sounded, reverberating in his ears.
‘Try laundry.’ Peach eased back into his bunk. ‘Garment sucks. Kitchen sucks. Wood shop’s decent. Friend of mine works there. He can put in a good word. He knows people.’
‘Thanks.’ Noah finished making his bed, then went to the sink, brushed his teeth, and washed up. He’d already relieved himself at intake. It was one of the things he hated most about prison, the lack of privacy. He would have to come to a place of acceptance.
‘You don’t talk much.’
‘I’m tired.’ Noah climbed up into his bunk, stretched out, and clammed up, in prison mode. Suddenly another buzzer sounded, and the lights went off abruptly.
Peach clucked. ‘Damn, I wasn’t at the end of the chapter. It’s good you got here. I could do a lot worse.’
‘It’s mutual.’ Noah looked at the ceiling. He could hear men talking, praying, and singing, the noises echoing in the dark cellblock. He heard a congested cough nearby, but he couldn’t see who it was because there were walls between the cells. He diagnosed it reflexively, as sinusitis.
‘I been here twenty-one years. It’s no picnic, but you get used to it. People get used to anything. Put your hand over the side.’
‘What?’
‘You heard me. Put your hand over the side.’
‘Why?’
/>
‘Just do it. I ain’t gonna hurt you.’
Noah let his right hand drop and felt Peach give him a paper bag. ‘What’s in it?’
‘What’s in what?’
Noah shifted onto his side and looked inside the bag, in the dim light from the window. It was a makeshift first-aid kit with a roll of gauze, a small bottle of Betadine, dental floss, and a heavy industrial needle, glinting in the half-light. The needle was contraband, which could get him thrown into the RHU, the Restricted Housing Unit, or solitary confinement.
Noah asked, ‘Peach, why did you give me this? Are you setting me up?’
‘Don’t be stupid.’
Noah’s thoughts raced. He’d been right about the undercurrent. Something was going to happen.
‘Get some sleep, doc.’
Chapter Sixty-six
Maggie, After
Maggie pulled up in front of Kathy’s house with Caleb in the backseat. She’d told him only the basics about why they were going to Congreve, not wanting to confuse him. Happily, he was plugged into his earphones and immersed in a video game on his phone.
‘Hey girl.’ Maggie opened the car door, letting Kathy in, bundled in a parka and snowboots.
‘Maggie, hi. Hi, Caleb.’ Kathy climbed in, closing the door. ‘I can’t believe this, can you?’
‘Amazing.’ Maggie hit the gas, and they took off in the pouring rain. She’d booked three seats on the next flight, and with any luck, they’d get to Congreve by dinnertime. ‘I’m still trying to figure it out.’
‘Me too.’ Kathy looked over, her eyes alive with animation. ‘I mean, the real Anna could be alive.’
‘I know.’ Maggie had thought of nothing else, newly energized. ‘But where is she? Why would anybody do this? And who was the imposter?’
‘I don’t know.’ Kathy shook her head.
‘She was impersonating Anna. They look a lot alike.’ Maggie tore through the suburban streets in the rain, the windshield wipers pumping frantically, matching her mood.
‘I know. I saw from the picture you texted me.’
‘I’m embarrassed to say I didn’t recognize my own daughter.’ Maggie kept her eyes glued to the traffic, which was light.
‘You couldn’t. The last time you saw her, she was a baby. Florian kept the pictures. You couldn’t see the way her face changed over time.’
‘You would think a mother would know.’ Maggie had been kicking herself ever since Ellen had called.
‘I wouldn’t have. It’s crazy how much alike they look.’
‘It happens. I get people all the time that say they know somebody who looks like me.’ Maggie had been thinking nonstop, but was happy to have Kathy as a sounding board. ‘It must have to do with Anna’s inheritance. Maybe that’s what was behind this whole thing. Maybe that’s why the girl was pretending to be Anna.’
‘That would make sense. I was thinking that’s why she bought the Range Rover right away.’
‘Yes!’ Maggie blew through a yellow light. ‘I think I see how the misidentification happened. I didn’t bring the imposter with me when I went to see Ellen the therapist, or James the lawyer. I went to see them alone. So they would have no idea that the girl I was talking about wasn’t the real Anna, because they didn’t see her.’
‘So the girl you had dinner with was the imposter, right?’
‘Yes, but she must have known the real Anna pretty well. She knew a lot about her, like that I was her mother and I had been writing to her, and she knew that Anna wanted to reach out to me. The real Anna had told her therapist that, too. So the imposter must have been a friend of Anna’s.’
Kathy frowned in thought. ‘Hmm, a lookalike friend. But I guess they didn’t have to look that much alike.’
‘Right.’ Maggie took a left, heading toward the expressway.
‘Do you think the imposter went to Congreve?’
‘It seems the most likely.’ Maggie accelerated into the fast lane.
‘You know what else I was thinking? Remember those notes between Anna and Jamie that we found in Anna’s textbooks, way back when, before the murder?’
‘Yes.’ Maggie had forgotten about Jamie, after Anna died.
‘I was thinking, it’s really strange that Jamie disappeared, isn’t it? I wonder if that has something to do with it?’
‘What though?’ Maggie turned left, hitting the expressway in record time. The windshield wipers flapped madly, and the defroster blew on max. The sky was pewter-gray, pouring rain. She’d checked online, and they’d be racing to Congreve ahead of the snowstorm.
‘I don’t know. Jamie’s last name was Covington, right?’
‘Yes,’ Maggie answered, and it was all coming back to her. ‘And PG and Connie were going to get her a bus ticket.’
‘Right,’ Kathy said, urgently. ‘We have to tell the people at Congreve about that. We have to find Jamie, PG, and Connie and see what they know. Maybe it’s connected to Anna’s disappearance.’
‘Yes, how can two girls go missing and nobody worry about it?’ Maggie accelerated, struck by a sudden memory. Anna’s funeral was over seven months ago, but a thought was coming back to her. ‘Oh my God, do you remember at Anna’s funeral? That woman who came up to me at the end?’
‘No, who?’
‘Anna – the imposter Anna, that is – made a friend at Lower Merion named Samantha Silas. Her mother spoke to me at the end of the funeral.’ Maggie tried to think back. ‘She told me that Samantha ran away after Anna was murdered because she was so upset, and that she had run away before.’
‘For real?’
‘Yes.’ Maggie felt her chest tighten, making a connection. ‘Anna’s only friend at high school, Samantha, runs away? And before that, Anna’s only friend at Congreve, Jamie, runs away? And now Anna, the real Anna, my daughter, is missing? Doesn’t that seem coincidental to you?’
‘It does. I mean, what are the odds?’ Kathy’s eyes rounded.
‘I think that’s definitely something we should tell them. Ellen said they called the police, and we should lay it all out for them.’
‘Yes, it gives them a place to start their investigation.’
‘Yep.’ Maggie bore down, steering through the rain. ‘It worries me though. I hate to think that Anna is missing. What’s happening with these girls?’
‘We’re not cops.’
‘No, but we’re moms on a mission.’ Maggie looked over with a tense smile, and Kathy smiled back, equally tense.
‘What happens to Noah, if this is true? He was convicted of killing Anna, but Anna isn’t dead.’
‘I was wondering about that too. I don’t know what it means, legally. They don’t just let him go. I mean, that girl was murdered.’ Maggie gripped the steering wheel. She glanced in the backseat to make sure Caleb wasn’t listening, and he was still ear-plugged into the video game. ‘Kathy, do me a favor, get my phone out of my purse, look up Neil Seligman, and call him? He’s one of the criminal lawyers I know from work. He might have the answer.’
‘I’ll do it, you drive.’ Kathy started digging in her purse, found the phone, and pressed in Neil’s number. ‘Got it.’
‘Put him on speaker, okay?’ Maggie drove while Kathy switched the phone to speaker, and it rang twice.
Neil picked up. ‘Hello?’
‘Neil, this is Maggie Ippoliti. Got a minute?’
‘Of course. I was thinking of you, reading about your husband’s conviction. This must be a very difficult time for you.’
‘Yes it is, thank you. Do you have a minute to talk?’
‘Of course.’
‘Neil, I’m in a car with my best friend Kathy, and I have a question for you about my husband. Can I speak to you confidentially, as an attorney?’
‘Certainly.’
‘There’s been a surprising development in his case, and I’d like to get your opinion.’ Maggie launched into the story about the phone call from Congreve and learning that the girl whom Noah had been convicted of killing wa
sn’t Anna. Caleb kept playing his video game, and they sped past billboards on the way to the airport. Trucks and vans sprayed water and road salt.
‘So what do you think, Neil?’ Maggie asked, when she was finished.
‘Noah doesn’t get out of jail free. The fact that he was convicted of killing someone – let’s call her Jane Doe, but she was in reality, Susan Smith – is not relevant to his conviction, if the only new fact is just a mistaken identity.’
‘I figured.’ Maggie felt a pang.
‘Under the doctrine of transferred intent, the intent to murder may be transferred where the person who was actually killed was not the intended victim. Think of it like a situation where someone shot at another person’s head with the intent to kill him, and that person ducked, and a third person was killed. You follow?’
‘Yes,’ Maggie and Kathy answered in unison.
‘It’s still first-degree murder, despite the fact that the shooter did not intend to kill that person. The same would be true if someone put poison in someone’s coffee cup with the intent to kill that person, and a third person drank the coffee and died.’
‘I understand.’ Maggie saw they were closing in on the airport.
‘So Noah is still guilty of first-degree murder. It’s not legally relevant if he was mistaken about the identity of the person he killed. Now, where the mistaken-identity issue could be helpful is if Noah can present substantial evidence that the person thought to be Jane Doe was actually killed by someone who wanted to kill Susan Smith and that person knew Jane Doe was Susan Smith. However, it would require evidence and not just speculation.’
‘I get it, thanks.’
‘Good, I’ll get back to my brief. See you at work. When do you come back?’
‘Next week, when Caleb goes back to school. Thanks again, bye.’ Maggie hung up.
‘You’re getting carried away, girl.’ Kathy looked over with a frown. ‘Just because somebody was impersonating Anna doesn’t mean that Noah didn’t kill her.’
‘It could.’ Maggie felt her pulse quicken as she drove.
‘But it doesn’t necessarily, and I don’t want you to get your hopes up.’