If You Only Knew Read online

  Ellen is playing with the strap of her handbag, nervously twisting it around her other hand. Tom is sat upright as if there’s a rod going through his torso. They both look shellshocked.

  “As I mentioned, Mr and Mrs McBride are adamant that Maya’s privacy is respected and very concerned that her identity might be leaked and splattered across the media. We cannot have a sixteen year old’s life turned upside down. Maya needs to be protected at all costs.”

  Detective Brown doesn’t speak. He chews on the end of a pen as if he’s mulling over what I’ve just said. “Is there anywhere I can speak to my clients in private?” I ask.

  He stands up. “Use my office,” he says, circling his desk. “We’ll be back in ten minutes.”

  For a few seconds after the detectives leave, we sit in silence. Tom and Ellen look ashen, their eyes shifting around.

  “What do you think?” Tom speaks first.

  “I don’t think you really have a choice. You either give them permission now and hope they will inform you of any developments or risk them petitioning the court and everything being made public.”

  Ellen starts crying softly. She takes a pristine white handkerchief from her handbag and blows her nose.

  “What would you do?” Tom asks.

  My head throbs, a sharp pain searing between my eyes. Blinking, I will it to go away, allow me to concentrate. I don’t know what would be best for all of us. Maya’s interests must come first but I also need to think about myself. How can I live knowing that detectives are re-examining all the evidence from John Larkin’s death, looking for more, getting closer to finding me?

  “Let’s ask for a week to mull over your options.” This will give me time to come up with some sort of plan for myself. “In the meantime, you can speak to Maya.”

  “Do we have to tell her?” Ellen asks.

  “Well, not necessarily. But telling her now will give you control over the message, what you tell her and how you tell her,” I explain.

  Tom nods. “And can you protect her? From a legal perspective?”

  “Yes. I will do everything that the law allows to make sure that Maya is never harassed or has her name associated with this case.”

  The irony doesn’t escape me. Sixteen years ago I gave up a tiny baby because I wanted to protect myself and her. Now I’m using my knowledge of the law to continue to protect her. But I’m wondering if I got it wrong then and I’m still getting it all wrong.

  Chapter 30

  “Cancel my afternoon meetings,” I tell Jennifer as I pass by her desk. “Hold my calls.” I close my office door behind me before she has time to respond.

  The mountain of paperwork on my desk looks daunting. There is so much to do, trial preparations to continue, tens of emails that require a response. But as much as I try to concentrate, my mind keeps wandering. I can only think of Maya. And myself.

  Now that Miles knows, the situation is complicated further. I’m no longer able to take decisions on my own, but have to take him into consideration. Taking the children out of the house without allowing them to say goodbye is so unlike him. It’s like he was trying to prove a point but I can’t bear to think what it is.

  Leaning back against the cushioned chair, I close my eyes as I shift to try and find a comfortable position. My life feels like it’s starting to unravel and I need to wrap my mind around it.

  The McBrides have promised to think about my recommendation. “We can meet you later, discuss the issue further,” Tom had said.

  A voice inside me screamed “no”. I wanted to spend time with my family, try to understand what’s going through my husband’s head.

  “Why don’t you sleep on it and we can meet in a day or two?” I told the McBrides.

  “Sleep?!” Ellen spat out. “I haven’t slept for weeks. But if you don’t have time for us…”

  “No, of course I have time,” I said quickly. The risk that they would look for another lawyer, that I will be cut off and unable to find out what’s going on is too great. I need to be part of this, not only to make sure I’m always a step ahead of the investigation but also because I want to know how this is affecting Maya. I know that I’m treading a fine line, bending all the rules, risking losing my licence. But the need to learn more is bigger than my fears.

  An hour later I am still staring at the documents in front of me, unable to focus on the words. Shaking my head at the hopeless task, I pack my briefcase and pick up my coat. “I’m leaving,” I tell Jennifer. “I’ll be on my cell if you need me.”

  Instead of heading home I drive straight to the children’s school, calling the sitter on the way and asking her to meet us at home. A gust of wind greets me when I step out of the car. My mind goes back to that night, his body pressing me down, the blood gushing out of his neck, the look of surprise mixed with fear in his eyes as he took his last breath.

  Leah hops out of the building, her skirt swishing around her legs. “Mummy!” She runs into my arms and I pick her up, holding her tight, inhaling the sweet smell of her hair. A few minutes later Julian walks out with his friends. His face lights up and he runs towards me. “Hey, kiddo.” Putting Leah down, I squat next to Julian and pull him towards me. “I missed you this morning. Did you have fun with Daddy?”

  We pile into my car, stopping at the bakery on our way home. The children ooh and aah as they flatten their noses against the cake display, pointing at the different confections. We return home laden with boxes of cakes and sit on the sofa tasting different goodies.

  As much as I wish to spend more time with my family, as soon as Miles comes home I head to the McBrides.

  “We’re speaking to Maya this weekend,” Ellen says as soon as she sees me.

  “Have you thought about my recommendation?”

  “We didn’t have that much time.” Ellen’s hand is shaking around her wine glass. Judging by the half empty bottle on the table, this is not her first glass. Perhaps I should talk to Tom, try to find out more about Ellen’s drinking habits, tell him that it’s important for me to know everything if I’m to represent them.

  “We asked for a week. So you can have a few more days if you need.”

  “No!” Tom glances at his wife in irritation. “We haven’t stopped talking about it since we left you and our decision is to give the investigators permission to unseal Maya’s birth certificate as long as they guarantee to protect her privacy. We don’t want anyone else to know about this.”

  Jumbled thoughts rush through my head. Allowing the detectives access to Maya’s birth certificate is another step towards me being found out. But the name on that document is a blind alley. And despite the risks, I cannot imagine waiting years for this investigation to continue. Anyway, this choice is out of my hands. I look at Ellen and she purses her lips and looks away, but finally nods. “I completely agree. It’s the best choice in the circumstances,” I say, even though I’m not so sure. “We can demand that they guarantee to protect Maya’s privacy, make that a condition of the agreement.”

  “Yes, that’s a good idea,” Tom says. “Anything else we should ask for?”

  “Yes. You should insist that the detectives share any information they uncover about Maya’s birth mother.”

  *

  It’s pouring with rain. It hasn’t stopped all day. Pulling the car into the garage, I take a few seconds before getting out, needing some extra time before facing my family.

  Maya is sprawled on the sofa playing with the children. The three of them giggle conspiratorially, and for a few moments I stand and look at them, before Maya sees me. “Hi Mrs P, you’re home early today.”

  “I guess.” I look at my watch. It’s not yet six o’clock. Despite my busy schedule and almost daily prep sessions with Chloe, I’ve somehow managed to carve out time to draft the McBrides’ contract, not wanting to lose any time since yesterday’s meeting with the detectives. They want to meet this evening to go over it.

  But for now I put them out of my mind and sit down. W
ork can wait. “What are we playing?” I ask the children, picking up a few Lego blocks and starting to build a tower.

  “How are you, Maya?” I ask her later, when Julian and Leah are busy with a jigsaw puzzle.

  “Good,” she answers. Her eyes are twinkling, the smile on her face that of someone who’s truly happy in a way I cannot fathom. “We had a fun afternoon, went for a walk around the neighbourhood since it was so sunny. Before it started pouring, that is. I was just about to make them supper. Can still do if you want me to.”

  “That’d be great.” I know it’s selfish to keep her here, but I’m steeped so far into this surreal situation and her presence is one of the few rays of light, making her offer impossible to refuse. Following her into the kitchen, I perch on one of the stools and watch her prepare cheesy pasta. She works fast, knowing exactly where everything is. She looks like she belongs in this kitchen, more than I feel I do right now.

  She is still cooking when Miles walks in. He stops in the doorway. I follow his gaze even though I know exactly what he’s looking at. His eyes are riveted to Maya, looking at her as if he’s seeing her for the first time.

  Maya doesn’t look up. She is spooning portions into two colourful bowls, working methodically, making sure that both have the same amount to avoid any ensuing fighting.

  Miles’ throat vibrates as he swallows. For long seconds he remains in the same spot, immobile, almost as if he is made of stone. Still looking at Maya he opens his mouth and I fear that he’s going to say something to her, that he’s going to reveal my secret. But no words come out.

  “Hello, Dr P,” Maya’s cheerful voice interrupts the moment. She looks towards me. “Dinner’s ready. Is it ok if I go now, Mrs P? Or do you want me to wait until they’ve eaten?”

  “Yes, yes of course. Thank you for preparing dinner.”

  “Bye, Dr P,” she says as she walks past Miles, who is still standing in the doorway, his bag in his hand. I don’t know what he’s thinking and don’t want to ask. Instead I tell him that Tom and Ellen are coming over to discuss the case.

  “Is it wise to represent them?” he asks. “To be so close to this case?”

  “That’s the whole point. I want to know what’s happening, how close the police are to finding Maya’s mother.”

  “Finding you,” he says in a low voice. Then, when I don’t answer, he asks: “How are Tom and Ellen doing?”

  “Scared. Exhausted. Full of uncertainty.”

  Miles’ phone beeps and he reaches behind him to get it. “Sh…” he starts, catching himself in time. “Gotta go back to the hospital.” He doesn’t look back as he goes.

  *

  It’s late when Miles returns. Sitting in bed, I’m propped up against the pillows trying to read through a file on one of my easier cases, making margin notes to discuss with the client at our next meeting. I hear him rummaging downstairs, the sound of the cupboard opening, the clink of a glass being put down on the counter, the swish of the refrigerator door. Then the squeak of his rubber soles as he walks up the stairs.

  The door opens and he walks in. Smiling at my husband, I close the file, putting it aside. “Are you ok?” I ask as he sits down at the foot of the bed and removes his shoes.

  “Great,” he says, sarcasm dripping from his voice. “Absolutely fantastic.”

  “Did anything happen?” I find myself holding my breath as I wait for his answer.

  He bends forward and rests his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands, covering his face with his long fingers. “You have some nerve asking me that,” he finally says, not looking at me. “Like finding out my wife killed a man and made us move next door to the child she gave up is not enough.”

  He eventually lifts his head up and turns towards me. His lips curl up like they do when he eats something sour, his nose wrinkled, his eyes slitted. There is none of the love that used to be so evident on his face.

  “I should have known. That night… all those bruises on your face… and then the body found just outside campus. But I refused to believe that you could do something like that. And then that you’d keep it from me. Something that could ruin our lives, impact the children forever. I still can’t understand how you’ve managed to keep this hidden for so long. The fact that you covered all this up and managed not to get caught scares me. I feel like I don’t know you anymore. Who are you?”

  Tears sting my eyes. “I’m still the same person.”

  “It’s nobody I know.” His voice is flat. “I didn’t marry a killer. I knew you’d had a child, and it hurt that you would never tell me, open up about it. But I thought it was because it was too painful a memory. I even thought that your fear of blood had something to do with the baby. This though. This changes everything.”

  Alarm bells ring in my ears. “What do you mean?” I’m scared to ask but need to know.

  “This is a lot for me to take in. I need time to wrap my head around it. I need to figure out what’s best for our children.” He walks to his side of the bed and picks up his pillow. “I’m sleeping in the spare bedroom.”

  Jumping out of bed, I run towards him. “Please don’t do that.” My voice breaks as I plead, my hands on his chest, trying to stop him.

  He stops for a moment and I wonder if he’s going to relent. His eyes are shimmering with sadness. But then he pushes my hand away. “I need time.” There’s a hoarseness in his voice and he clears his throat. “I need space.”

  There’s a thumping sound in my ears and tiny flecks of light cloud my vision. “I didn’t have a choice. He would have killed me,” I try to explain. “I made a spur of the moment choice back then and I have to live with it.”

  “Well, I need time to figure out if I can.”

  Chapter 31

  “Are you ready?” I ask, closing my laptop and getting up from my chair.

  Chloe nods as she exhales sharply.

  “It’s going to be ok.” I put a tentative arm around her shoulder. “You’re prepared and I’m going to guide you.” She leans against me, as if she craves human touch.

  Jennifer pops her head into my office. “Your Uber’s two minutes away.”

  In the car I go over my opening statement. Although I’ve done this so many times before, I still always fear getting stuck, that my mind will go blank. Chloe is silent, looking out of the window. “Try not to chew your lip. It makes you look nervous and it’s not the image we want to portray.” She nods, relaxing her face, but her eyes are still full of fear.

  The drive to the courthouse is short. Chloe gets out and straightens the new clothes I’d bought her. Under her jacket she’s wearing a light pink sweater and a knee-length dark grey skirt that shows her baby bump. Her legs are covered in opaque black tights and she’s wearing black flat shoes. She’s followed my instructions and her hair is in a neat ponytail, her face scrubbed clean of any makeup.

  She stands next to the car, staring at the building in front of us. Only her eyes are moving, taking it all in. Steering her by the elbow, I guide her towards the steps, making our way through the crowds that are coming in and out of the courthouse.

  Inside, I nod at a few peers but don’t stop, leading Chloe through the milling building and straight to the courtroom. We take our seats at the defence table and I feel Chloe shiver next to me. Judge Kerns always keeps his courtroom Arctic cold as if to freeze out the truth and today is no exception. Putting my arm around her, I pull her towards me and rub her skinny arms, trying to warm her up.

  A few minutes later we hear a commotion coming from the rear of the courtroom. Looking back I see Ben being wheeled in, George Winters close behind him.

  The judge walks in and makes a few remarks, mostly to the jury. It is then George’s turn to make his opening statement. He stands up and clears his throat. Walking towards the jury, he turns around and points at Chloe.

  “On September the twentieth of last year Chloe Wilson ran over Ben Grant. She took his keys, got into his car, and reversed over him. Then, instead of s
topping to check on him, to see how bad his injuries were, to try and help him, she ran away. Mr Grant’s screams of pain brought the neighbours out from their houses, but didn’t stop Ms Wilson from continuing on her way.

  She went home and carried on with her life.

  In the meantime, Mr Grant was being rushed to hospital with injuries so severe it is doubtful whether he will ever walk again. His acting career had to be put on hold. His livelihood is under threat.”

  He pauses for a few seconds, walking up and down in front of the jury, looking each of the members in the eye. Then he stops, and leans forward.

  “Ms Wilson never apologised. She would not even talk to the police. Then, weeks later, when she realised that she’d been caught, Ms Wilson came forward with a story about rape.”

  “But this was nothing other than a lover’s quarrel. Ms Wilson went to Mr Grant’s home, had sex with him, and then took flight, running him over, heartlessly leaving him sprawled on the street. She never turned back, but kept going with her day. The defence will try to make excuses for her actions. But what she did is inexcusable. She has irrevocably changed a man’s life, robbed him of his dreams, left him for dead. This is why we’re here today, to make sure that justice is done.”

  George stands still for a few moments, then turns around and walks back to his seat, patting Ben on the back as he passes behind him.

  It’s my turn and I feel my head pound with tension. It’s my job to convince the jury that Chloe is not only innocent, but is the victim. Mary Beth Hayes has left me hanging in doubt about whether she’ll testify. She said she needed more time to think about the repercussions. And now she’s not even answering my phone calls.

  Standing up, I take several deep breaths, close my suit jacket and walk over to the jury stand. Pacing in front of them, I look each in the eye. I want them to trust me, to stir their emotions to believe what I’m about to tell them.

  “Chloe Wilson has just turned sixteen. She should be in school, spending time with her friends, going out on first dates. Instead Ms Wilson is sitting here. And it’s all because she met Mr Grant on September the twentieth and agreed to go to his house. That was her mistake, a mistake that she’s paying dearly for.