“I can reach out to them,” Lizzie said. “Ask if they’d be willing.”
“I’ll talk to them,” Jasper said. “I know them. We’ve worked together for years. It’ll be better coming from me.”
Lizzie’s mother looked at her. “What are you hoping to accomplish with this?”
The question sat there.
Lizzie thought about Sarah in her office. The way she’d looked when she told Lizzie to leave. The shrug when Lizzie asked if they’d see each other again.
“I want to help her,” she said. “I want her to finally have something good in her life. If that brings us back together, that’s wonderful. But even if it doesn’t—” Her voice cracked. “I still feel guilty. About the reporter. About all of it. This is something I can do. Something that might actually help.”
Her mother reached across the table and squeezed her hand.
“Then let’s get started,” Jasper said.
They spent the next two hours at the kitchen table. Jasper making notes. Lizzie’s mother googling Wisconsin court records.Lizzie writing down everything she remembered Sarah telling her. Names. Dates. Places.
San Francisco. The Fairmont. The homeless shelter.
Wisconsin. The car accident. Mr. Patterson.
The emancipation at sixteen.
It wasn’t much. But it was a start.
And for the first time since she’d left Key West, she felt like she was doing something other than drowning.
***
“Call him again,” Maya said from her spot on the bed, laptop balanced on her knees. “He sounded like he wanted to help.”
Lizzie stared at Mr. Patterson’s number on her phone. The man Sarah’s mother had hit with her car. She’d called him three days ago. He’d been kind, said he remembered Sarah, said he’d always felt terrible about what happened. He’d all but admitted to lying about seeing Sarah drive but had ended the call when she’d asked him to make a statement.
“What if he says no?”
“Then we find something else. There’s got to be more in the court records.” Maya scrolled through another page of Wisconsin public filings. “Social services had to have been involved at some point.”
The doorbell rang.
They both looked up. Nobody used their doorbell. Everyone texted first.
Lizzie went to the intercom. “Hello?”
“Lizzie? It’s Emma. Emma Truseau. Can I come up?”
Maya’s laptop nearly slid off the bed. Lizzie pressed the buzzer without thinking. Two minutes later Emma stood in their doorway.
“I’m sorry to just show up. I didn’t want to text because I figured you’d delete it.”
“It’s fine. Come in.” Lizzie stepped back. “You know Maya, of course.”
Emma nodded at Maya and sat on the edge of the couch like she might need to leave quickly.
“I wanted to talk to you about Key West. I saw the story about Sarah Barnes and that they mentioned you also. And… well. I feel like I have to come forward. First off, I’m not friends with Cynthia anymore. I needed you to know that.”
Lizzie sat in the chair across from her and waited.
“I couldn’t keep pretending I didn’t know what she did. What she’s been doing since we got to Key West.” Emma stared into her coffee. “She was determined to make you miserable from day one. At first it was just stupid stuff, like making dumb comments and then the puddle incident.”
