Page 58 of Good Bad Girl

Four walls, three windows, two chairs, one dog, one woman in the pink house.

“I took your baby.”

Clio

Clio stares at Frankie. “What did you just say?”

“I stole your baby from a supermarket twenty years ago,” the woman whispers, then stares down at the floor. It’s hard to see her face properly in the dark room as she shields her eyes from Clio’s flashlight.

Clio wishes now that she could remember the woman’s name, but she can only remember her as Case File 999. Her autopilot kicks in, out of habit and self-preservation. Clio does what she always does when a client says something shocking: she waits to see what they will say next. It helps her to determine whether the things they are telling her are true, imagined, or reimagined stories told in the hope of receiving attention.

“I’m not here to apologize,” says Case File 999 with an air of defiance that is new. “I’m not sorry I took her and I never will be.”

“Now I really am calling the police.”

The woman snatches the phone from Clio’s hand. “No, you’re not. We’re going to sit down and talk like we should have yesterday.Like we should have all those years ago.” Clio tries to leave the room but she blocks her path. “Ten minutes. That’s all this will take. Then, if you still want me to leave, I will. You have my word.”

Clio assesses the situation and Case File 999. Before she can decide what to do next, the power comes back on. It restores the light and her confidence. Clio studies the woman for a moment as though trying to solve a difficult sum, and thinks she sees her clearly now.

“You’ve obviously looked me up. You’ve probably read some old newspaper articles and, for reasons I don’t care about, you’ve come here pretending to know something about my missing child. It’s been a while, but do you have any idea how many people claimed to know something about her disappearance foryearsafter she was taken? Hoping for a reward. Or just attention. Years of my life have been destroyed by disturbed, delusional liars like you.”

“I’m not lying. Why don’t you believe me?”

“What do you want, money? Because if you think I have any just because I live in this house in a posh part of town, you are sadly mistaken.”

“I need your help or I wouldn’t be here at all.”

“Well, we agree on something. You do need help.”

“I can tell you that she was wearing a pink onesie. I can tell you that your mother was looking after her that day and had taken her to the supermarket. I can tell you that the time was ten minutes past ten when I took the baby from the buggy and walked right out of the store with her.”

“All of which you could have read in the newspapers. If youaretelling the truth, then do you know that my husband left me six months after our little girl was stolen from us? He couldn’t stand to be around someone as broken as I was, and he knew that there was no way to fix me. He was right. I lost my child and my husband and myself because of what happened. I lost everything.There’ssomething you won’t have read about.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Please leave.”

“She looks like you, your little girl. You have the same eyes.”

“Get out.”

“Why won’t you tell me where she is?”

Clio hesitates. “I don’t know who or what you are talking about!”

Case File 999 fumbles with something inside her bag. Clio takes a step back, fearing she might have a weapon more dangerous than a can of polish.

“This is your daughter,” the woman says, holding up a photo.

Clio stares at the picture. “That is not my daughter. That is Patience.”

“Patience?”

“Iknewshe couldn’t be trusted. What an elaborate con the pair of you have constructed. Well, she might have fooled my mother but she didn’t fool me. What’s the plan now? Blackmail? Good luck with that.” Her phone starts to ring and she stares at it. “How handy, the police are calling me.” Clio regrets taking the call as soon as she hears the detective’s voice.

“I wasn’t expecting you to answer given it’s the middle of the night,” says DCI Chapman. “Touch of insomnia is it? Worried about your missing mother?”

“I’ve found her—”

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