Page 65 of Nobody's Fool

Molly sits back down. We sit in silence.

“Time passed,” Victoria continues, her tone now pensive. “After a while, the police moved on. Everyone did.”

“And you?”

“I’ve tried. But the accusations never stopped.”

“What do you mean?” Molly asks. “What accusations?”

“There are other theories,” Victoria says now, almost casually.

Molly takes that one. “About your kidnapping?”

“Yes. Many.”

“Like what?”

“Like that I was never kidnapped,” she answers, the small smile still toying with her lips. “That I was never in danger. That I made the whole thing up. That I ran away with a guy. Or that I ran awaywith a guy and then he turned on me. Or—for those who want to be kinder—that I had some sort of psychotic break and had amnesia the whole time. Why would someone kidnap a girl from a wealthy family and never ask for ransom? Or maybe they did. Maybe a kidnapper did ask my parents for money. Maybe they even gave it to them and never told the FBI. Or me.”

“Do you believe any of that?” I ask.

She shrugs, but says, “No. My point is, the FBI doesn’t know what to believe. One moment I was leaving a party. The next moment, poof, it’s eleven years later and I’m in a diner.”

We all take that in. We hear a small cooing noise coming from the other room. Henry is awake. Molly smiles and rises to get him.

When we are alone, Victoria/Anna puts her hand on mine. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

I say nothing.

“When I saw your photo, something told me to find you and let you know it’s okay. There’s something to that, isn’t there?”

“Yes.”

“And are you? Okay, I mean. Or at least, better. Did seeing me help?”

I manage a nod. “Yes,” I say. “It helped.”

“I did something to you. In Spain.”

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” I say.

She smiles at me, and it’s the most genuine smile I’ve seen from her. “Then maybe that’s enough,” she says.

“Did it help you too?” I ask. “Seeing me again?”

She thinks about it a moment. “It did,” she concludes. “I don’t know how or why. But I feel more at peace.” She lifts her phone, checks the time, swipes to a ride-share app. “I should go.”

She stands up. I follow her to the door. Molly and Henry join us. Victoria spends a few moments cooing with Henry and hugging Molly goodbye. The Uber arrives.

“No one knows I came,” Victoria says.

“What do you mean?” Molly asks. “Do they watch you?”

“They worry about me,” she corrects. Then she turns to me. “I don’t think we should see each other again, Sami.”

She slips into the waiting car and waves to me. I wave back—and as I do, I realize something.

She’s lying to me.

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