She didn’t answer.
“I thought we had the same goal,” he said. “To get Ethan back safely.”
“I don’t know where she is.”
An orderly pushed an old woman in a wheelchair to the sunny corner of the courtyard. The old woman lifted her wrinkled face toward the sun and closed her eyes.
“Have you come up with anything on the babysitter at the carnival?” Aubrey asked.
He shook his head. “We spoke with Star. She told us she’d called a few agencies, but didn’t remember which one had sent the babysitter. We’re checking with each of them.”
“But most agencies have photos of their babysitters, don’t they? Wouldn’t you be able to get a match with facial-recognition software?”
“We’re working on that.”
“What about an invoice from the agency? Didn’t Star or my father get billed for her services?”
“We haven’t found anything on their credit-card statements.”
“So what does that mean? Is Star lying?”
“It’s possible.”
Of course Star was lying. Aubrey just needed to persuade Smolleck.
“You say we have the same goal,” she said. “But you’re holding back from me.”
“There are a number of aspects of this investigation that—”
She had no patience for his posturing. “Why don’t my parents come up when I do a search on Stormdrain or the explosion in 1970? We both know they had some involvement with the organization.”
He frowned.
“What did they have to do with the explosion?”
“I already told you I’m not at liberty to say.”
“Did they make a deal with the FBI? Is that why you can’t tell me?”
“I’m not at liberty to say.”
His stubbornness was infuriating. “Without saying it, you’re telling me my parents were involved in some way. Which means a survivor of the explosion might be seeking revenge against them.”
“I appreciate you trying to solve this, but help us do our job,” he said. “Help us find your mother.”
“Twenty years ago, a man claiming to be Jeffrey Schwartz approached the FBI and said he knew who set off the brownstone explosion. It made the headlines, and I think it spooked my parents. I believe they thought the real Jeffrey Schwartz was out to get them. Tell me why.”
“I can’t.”
“Did my parents blow up the brownstone?”
He looked miserable. He gave his head a little shake. “It wasn’t that.”
“Then what was it? Why were they afraid of Schwartz?”
He pressed his lips together tightly. He was done sharing.
But she wasn’t done asking questions. “Where is Schwartz now?”
“We don’t know, Aubrey. Look, enough of this. Tell me where your mother is.”
“What about the man who claimed to be Schwartz? Have you found him? Have you asked him why he went to the FBI? Who gave him the idea to say he was Schwartz?”
“He’s a psychotic.”
“Have you found him?”
He let out an exasperated sigh. “Yes, we found him and spoke to him.”
“And?”
“He was useless. Said he didn’t know what we were talking about.”
“Found him where?”
Smolleck shook his head, annoyed. “He’s still working as a janitor at some upscale shopping mall in Buckhead. He’s been there forever.”
Upscale shopping mall in Buckhead. Where had she heard that reference? “Peachtree Shoppes?”
He frowned. “How do you know that?”
Her heart was pounding. “Because Star owned a business there years ago.” She made a quick calculation. The article was from ten years ago. It said Star had owned the business for ten years. That would have been twenty years. “If this man worked as a janitor when Star was there, she could have known him. She could have convinced him he was Jeffrey Schwartz and told him to go the FBI.”
“Enough, Aubrey. You’re pushing for impossible connections. How would Star even know about Schwartz?”
“Because she isn’t Star. She’s Linda Wilsen.”
“She isn’t, Aubrey. Stop this and tell me where your mother is.”
“Think about it,” she said. “There’s a physical similarity between Star and Wilsen. They’re the same age.”
He shook his head. “You’re completely off track here.”
“Star could have been working on an elaborate plan to punish my parents all these years. First she convinces some guy with delusions to go to the FBI knowing that news about April Fool will rattle my parents, then she gets my father to leave my mother, and finally, when the timing is right for her, she gets my dad to convince Kevin to let my mother be part of Ethan’s life and kidnaps him.”
“Aubrey.”
“I know. You need a motive,” she said. “Linda Wilsen was completely disfigured in the explosion. If she blamed my parents, there’s your motive.”
“Aubrey.” His voice was sharp. A couple of people at the next bench turned to stare at him. He shifted closer to Aubrey. “Star isn’t Linda Wilsen,” he said quietly.
“But—”
“Linda Wilsen is dead.”
“No, she isn’t. You said you couldn’t find her.”
“We found her. She moved to Canada in 1971 and changed her name. We’ve confirmed that she died in 1980.”
“But—”
“Star isn’t Linda Wilsen. We need to talk about your mother.”
Aubrey looked at the old woman. Her face was now in shadows, but she kept her eyes closed and head back as though hoping the warmth would find her again.
Was Aubrey so desperate to prove her mother’s innocence that she was finding patterns in unrelated events and creating a flawed, alternative narrative?
“I know you think you’re doing the right thing by trying to protect her,” Smolleck said, “but you aren’t.”
Aubrey wished the sun would come around to the bench where they were sitting. “Star could still be involved,” she said.
“You’re grasping at straws.”
“Where was she when my father was hit by the car?”
Smolleck shook his head.