Look Again - Lisa Scottoline [13]
“I know the book.”
Susan’s eyes lit up. “Oh, right, you have a son now. How old is he?”
“Three.”
“Goodness, already?”
“I know, right?” Ellen didn’t have to say, time flies, though it was her favorite mommy conversation. Some things never got old.
“I read that. I loved the articles you wrote about his sickness.”
“Thank you. Anyway, you were saying.”
“Yes, well, Sam Junior was going as a turtle. He had this chicken-wire shell we made”—Susan stopped herself—“well, never mind about the costume. My ex picked the kids up, loaded them in the car, and I never saw them again.”
“I’m so sorry.” Ellen lost her bearings, momentarily. Now that she’d become a mother, it was even harder to imagine. Maybe her mind simply refused to go there. “Does it get easier with time?”
“No, it gets harder.”
“How so?”
“I think about all that I’m missing with them. All that time, with each of them. Then I start to think that, even when I get them back, I’ll never be able to catch up.” Susan paused, a stillness coming over her. “I worry they won’t remember me. That I’ll be a stranger to them.”
“Of course they’ll remember you,” Ellen rushed to say, then switched tacks. “Is it easier because at least you know they’re with their father? That they’re not abducted by some stranger, who could be doing them harm?” She was thinking of the Bravermans again.
“Honestly, no.” Susan frowned. “Sam was a terrible father. He lost the custody battle and he didn’t like the settlement, so this is the way he got me back. At the end of the day, they need me. I’m their mother.”
“So you’re hopeful.”
“I am, I have to be. The FBI thinks like you do, that it’s less of a priority because it’s family. Not all victims are alike.” Susan pursed her lips. “Anyway, the theory is that he took them out of the country. His money is all offshore, and they think he told the kids I died.”
“Would he do that?” Ellen asked, aghast.
“Of course, he’s an egomaniac, a narcissist.” Susan sipped her soda, and ice rattled in the tumbler. “I don’t agree with the FBI, and if I tell you what I think, it’ll sound crazy.”
“No, it won’t, and honestly, I don’t even know if this will run. It depends on my editor.”
Susan frowned. “Any press at all could help find them. You never know.”
“I’ll try my best. Please, go on.”
Susan shifted forward on the cushion. “I believe my kids are in the country, nearby even. Maybe not in Philly, but in Jersey or Delaware. Near here. I think it because I feel them, inside. I feel my children, close to me.” Certainty strengthened Susan’s voice. “When they were babies, if someone took them out of my sight, I felt nervous. When we were in the same room, I knew it. I feel them here, still.” Susan put a hand to her heart. “I carried them, they were inside me. I think it’s a mother’s instinct.”
Ellen reddened. Was there such a thing? Could she have it if she had never been pregnant? Evidently, not everything came with the ovaries.
“I’ve posted their photos everywhere. I had somebody design a website and made sure it comes up first if they ever search their own name. I go on the Internet all the time, checking out all the sites where they might go, even the gamers’ sites, because Sammy loved Nintendo.”
Ellen watched Susan, who slumped in the soft couch as she continued.
“I drive around the neighborhoods, the schools. I check out the Gymboree for Lynnie and the T-ball leagues for Sammy. In summer, I troll the beaches in Holgate and Rehoboth. Sooner or later, I’ll spot one of them, I just know it.” Susan needed no encouragement to keep speaking, her words flowing from a pain, deep inside. “There’s not a minivan that goes by that I don’t look in the backseat, not a ball field I don’t look on the bench and the bases. I stop by pet stores because Lynnie liked kittens. If a school bus passes, I look in the windows. I drive around and call the kids’ names at night. Last week I was in Caldwell,