Page 42 of The Stolen Child

She flopped back down to the bench.

Ortega reached into his linen jacket pocket and pulled out a photograph. ‘We asked everyone on board the Carousel to hand over their cameras, and had their photographs developed at our station. This one interests me.’

It was of their family, the day that Robert went missing. He was in her arms, crying, and Jason had Lily in his. His dark eyebrows were knitted together as he glared at Kimberly and Robert.

‘You know what I see when I look at this image?’ Inspector Ortega said.

Kimberly shook her head, unable to speak.

‘I see a woman who is afraid, but also bravely protecting her child.’

Kimberly remembered how she’d felt that day. And she couldn’t deny Inspector Ortega’s words.

‘It’s my fault . . .’ Kimberly whispered, her eyes never leaving the image of Robert. ‘I knew something bad was going to happen. I should have taken the children and run that day.’

Ortega touched her arm again. ‘We can help you. I can keep you and Lily safe.’

Kimberly stood up, shaking his hand off her arm. ‘I need to get back to Lily. Thank you, Inspector Ortega, sincerely thank you. But I need to go now.’

‘Remember, you can trust me, Kimberly . . .’ his voice called out to her.

Kimberly ran back through the streets, all the while thinking of Lily. Sweat dripped down her spine and stained her T-shirt under her arms. She ignored the warm well-wishes of an Irish couple staying in the hotel who had been kind to the family during the week. She pushed the button in the lift and saw it was on an upper floor. The need to see her daughter was overwhelming; she couldn’t wait, so she ran to the stairwell and climbed the two floors, her body protesting the assault on her lungs.

When she got to their room, she pounded on the door, praying to a God she wasn’t sure she even believed in any more that her baby girl was safe in the room.

Her father-in-law opened the door, but she pushed past him to the bedroom, where she found Lily in Jason’s arms.

‘Give her to me,’ she demanded, tears mixing with her sweat, stinging her eyes.

‘What happened?’ Kevin demanded from behind her.

‘I saw Ortega,’ Kimberly said. Then she turned to her husband. ‘You were right. He does think you killed Robert.’

Kevin sank to the bed beside his son, a look of horror on his face. He placed a hand on Jason’s shoulder. ‘It will be okay,’ he said, but his face was drawn and grey with worry.

‘Do you have the number of that lawyer that the embassy recommended?’ Kimberly asked Kevin as she cradled Lily in her arms.

‘Yes, I’ve got his number,’ Kevin replied.

‘Call him. Find out if there’s any reason why we have to stay here. Because, unless they won’t let us leave, we have to go back home to Ireland.’

NOW

August 2023

Lily

Phibsborough, Dublin

The rest of the week went by in a blur. Work became a blessing because Lily could forget about Zach when she was with her clients. Or should she say Robert. It was so confusing. After their chat on Wednesday afternoon, she decided two things. One, she liked him. And, two, she believed he was genuine in his belief that he was her brother. So Lily promised him that she would help him discover the truth.

It was Michael who said out loud what they were all thinking. The only way to prove or disprove Zach’s theory was to initiate a DNA test. Michael offered to research how to move this plan forward. There were many online options for testing, but Lily felt uncomfortable about that route. After a few phone calls, Michael found a clinic in Dublin they were both happy with. Michael made an appointment for them the following Monday afternoon.

Since then, Lily and Michael had done little else but discuss their next steps. Should they tell Kimberly and Jason? Or wait until the DNA results came in? Both had pros and cons, and neither of them could make a decision.

So Lily decided to visit the one person she trusted as much as her husband. Her grandfather Kevin. Or Gaga as she called him. He lived in a retirement village outside Dublin in the foothills of the Wicklow mountains. Over the past ten years, Gaga had found it increasingly difficult to cope on his own. He was eighty-nine years old. But, in typical Gaga fashion, he had done something about it. He sold his home and bought a two-bedroom bungalow in a gated community that gave him – and his family – the comfort of knowing he was looked after. With twenty-four-hour CCTV and a twenty-four-hour nurse call system, he was safe. But he also had freedom in his bungalow, with all the modern bells and whistles he needed for independent living.

Leaving Ben with Michael, Lily drove to her grandfather’s house, where they planned to have dinner together. It was a bright summer evening, and Lily found Gaga watering his window boxes, draped with bright peonies in every rainbow colour.