17 #2
Emma watched her leave.
“How are you feeling?” Noelle asked.
“Numb,” Emma answered honestly, turning to face her. “How did my mother’s gun end up with that body?”
“There could be a simple answer,” said Noelle. “Most likely it was sold. Either by her or your father.”
Emma exhaled heavily. “What does it all mean?”
Noelle now had both hands on Emma’s shoulders and held her gaze. She spoke slowly. “The only thing we know for certain is that this victim isn’t your mother.”
“I know.” Emma ached for an answer. “But maybe she’s the other one.”
“If it’s not, you know I’ll keep looking.”
“I know.” Noelle had told Emma several times that she wanted desperately to find her mother for her. “I need to focus on the future,” Emma said woodenly. “Not keep looking at the past and waiting and wondering.”
Meaningless words.
Noelle drew her in for a tight hug. “Our pasts are always with us, no matter how much we want them gone, but they’re what made us who we are today.
You’re smart, levelheaded, and resourceful.
You’re full of empathy—something that is often destroyed when you’re raised in a difficult home.
You’re fucking amazing, and I don’t say that lightly. You and I will get through this.”
You and I.
Emma’s eyes smarted. Noelle wasn’t one to say things that weren’t true.
“I’ll ask Lacey to look at Dr. Lockhart’s other female victim too,” said Noelle, slowly releasing Emma from the hug.
“But wasn’t she killed pretty recently?” Emma didn’t see the point.
“Yes, but that doesn’t mean she couldn’t be your mother.”
Emma was stunned. Noelle was saying her mother could have died at any point in the last ten years. Even within the month.
That would mean my mother never wanted to contact me.
Emma sat down in one of the conference room chairs, staring across the room at nothing, feeling weak at the thought that her mother hadn’t cared a lick about her.
It was what her father had always claimed, but a tiny part of Emma had always reserved judgment, always half expected her mother to reappear.
Her therapist had claimed those feelings were normal.
Nothing about this feels normal.
Noelle knelt beside her. “Hey, are you okay?”
“Just thinking.” An understatement.
Noelle grimaced. “I know. I’ve been too. Way too much. But like I said, we don’t have proof, so we shouldn’t make assumptions.”
The door opened and Dr. Harper reappeared. Her eyes widened slightly at the sight of Noelle on her knees. “All good here?”
“As good as can be expected,” Noelle said. “It’s been an odd morning.”
“Definitely,” muttered Emma.
“Well, I don’t know if this makes it better or worse, but I also checked Dr. Lockhart’s victim, along with the other female skeletal remains. Neither of the other two women are your mother,” said Dr. Harper. “The only way I could be wrong is if these aren’t your mother’s old films.”
Emma opened her mouth, but the odontologist held up a hand. “These films are part of a computerized chart. Your mother’s name is everywhere in that chart, and the digital physical charting—like I did on paper today—matches the films. So I don’t think that is an option.”
Emma sat still for a long moment, processing the news.
“So I’m exactly where I’ve been for the last ten years.
Knowing nothing.” She wasn’t sure if that made her feel better or worse.
Her body was exhausted from being tightly wound for several hours, but in her head, there was a small measure of relief.
“I wonder what my therapist will say about this morning.”
“I’m so sorry I put you on a roller coaster,” said Noelle, running a hand over her own face. “I’d considered not telling you about the gun until the victims had been identified. I wish I had kept it to myself. This was my fault.”
Emma didn’t like seeing Noelle look so miserable. “It’s okay. I would have done the same in your shoes,” she said sincerely.
“There’s that empathy I mentioned,” Noelle said, a rueful look on her face.
“Now what do you do?” asked Emma.
“We keep searching for Belle. The task force is following up any leads that came in overnight. The medical examiner and Lacey will try to get these victims identified, and that will help lead us to who killed them and maybe even to Belle somehow.”
“It’s all connected,” said Emma. “Just too many pieces missing.”
“Exactly.” Noelle pushed to her feet, looking determined. “I need to stick around to see what Dr. Lockhart finds out on the other two autopsies. Can you drive home okay?”
“Yes,” said Emma. “Don’t worry about me. Just find that little girl.”
Noelle scanned Emma’s face for a long moment, an odd look in her eyes. “Will do. I’ll see you tonight.” She pulled Dr. Harper aside for a brief discussion that Emma couldn’t hear and then left the room.
Dr. Harper looked back at Emma. “She cares a lot about you.”
“The feeling’s mutual. I’ve never had anyone like her in my life before,” Emma said.
That made the dentist grin. “There’s not a lot of women like her. You’re very lucky she chose you.”
Dr. Harper’s words made Emma pause, a wave of gratitude and wonder rolling through her.
She chose me.
So many people had left her—if she included death as leaving: her mother, her father, even Uncle Tommy.
But Noelle had chosen her.
And proved it every day.