Page 49 of Girl, Remembered

‘Yes, Tracy, it’s me. It’s been a long time.’

Tracy froze. There was nothing except the shine of her eyes and her mouth working around words that wouldn’t come out whole.

Get there. Any way you can. Open her up.

‘Yes it has,’ Tracy said. The background noise from the rest of the prison died as Tracy’s voice traveled through the slot and into Ella’s ear canal. Her southern accent was more pronounced than her sister’s.

‘Do you know why I’m here?’

Tracy removed her hand and left a condensed imprint on the glass. She nodded.

‘Tracy, I need to know where Lindsey is,’ Dever continued.

‘Why didn’t you come? You never came.’

‘Where?’

Tracy just stared for a moment, like the question didn’t deserve an answer. ‘To us. You said you’d come back. We waited.’

‘I never said that. I’m sorry if you thought otherwise.’

‘We had to go into care. Five different homes. They sent us across the river.’

Mississippi, Ella thought. The Doyle sisters had been sent out of Louisiana, which explained why Ella couldn’t find much on their childhood in the Louisiana system.

‘I didn’t know where you’d gone,’ Dever said. ‘I wasn’t allowed to know.’

‘You didn’t try. You left us. Like everyone did.’

Don’t lose her, Ella pleaded to herself. Give her the answers she wants.

‘Nobody left you and your sister, Tracy. We had to take you away. Your parents were-’

‘Not my parents. I don’t care about my parents. Me and Lindsey always thought you’d come and find us, to check on us. You never did. Only one man ever helped us, and it wasn’t you.’

Ella noted the comment, vague as it was. As much as she wanted to interject, her intrusion wouldn’t help.

‘Tracy, we can talk about this later. I’m not going anywhere, but right now, we need to find Lindsey.’

Dever left the question open-ended, which was a smart move on his part. Maybe he did have a little brains behind him.

‘Lindsey. It’s always about Lindsey. This whole thing… it’s all been about her.’

Resentment. Ella ran the sentence back. Two girls, same house, same abuse.

But perhaps only one of them became a true monster. The other one might simply have been forced along for the ride.

‘Where is she, Tracy? If you can help us find her…’

‘Why?’

Just two weeks ago, this woman posed as an alarm installation woman and tried to kill Luca. Now she was asking why someone might want to find her equally-deranged sister, as though the answer wasn’t obvious. In terms of shamelessness, the psychopathic mind knew no bounds.

‘Because she’s killed a lot of people, including one today.’

‘That’s what she does. She’ll never stop.’

‘Which is why we need to find her, and if there’s one person who might know where she is…’