Grace sighed. “I’m not sure.”
Josie knew why. The same way she knew why Amber had held onto the diary all these years even with its remaining blank pages and broken strap. A diary—especially that of a teenage girl—was intimate, private, and even though there was probably nothing written inside it that the same teenage girl would care about as an adult, it was still a precious thing, a place to keep her innermost thoughts and secrets. Tearing pages from the diary was an act of cruelty in and of itself, but otherwise leaving it largely intact and in Amber’s possession was just plain spiteful. Every time Amber looked at the diary after that she would be reminded of that cruelty, of the way her inner world had been violated and desecrated.
Josie thought of all the times her own abuser had let her think she had control or let her keep something she loved but then ruined it completely. Josie was willing to bet that keeping the diary was Amber’s way of tangibly holding onto shreds of her own identity, although that didn’t explain the list of numbers. This time, Josie was able to suppress a shudder. Amber had grown up with cruelty, but did that have anything to do with her disappearance? Josie asked, “Do you know her aunt’s name? Or if she’s even still alive?”
Grace shook her head. “I don’t know. Amber never said her name. I assume she is still alive. It seems like Amber would have mentioned it if she’d died. I think she would have been relieved.”
Josie closed the diary. “You said that Amber talked about having a sister. Did you ever meet her?”
“Oh, no. I never met any of her family. She wasn’t kidding when she said they had no contact.”
Gretchen said, “Does Russell Haven Dam mean anything to you? Have any significance?”
Looking puzzled, Grace slowly shook her head. “No. Why? Should it?”
Noah said, “Did Amber ever mention it?”
“No, not that I recall.”
“Besides her family, had Amber ever had trouble with anyone in the past?” Josie asked. “Maybe a neighbor or co-worker or something like that? Is there anyone you can think of who might have wanted to harm her?”
Grace gave another slow shake of her head. “No. Definitely not. I don’t recall her ever having trouble with anyone. Quite the opposite. Amber always struck me as very lonely. She would never say it, but she was alone all the time, you know? That had to get depressing sometimes.”
Gretchen slid a business card across the table to Grace. “If you think of anything else—anything at all—please contact us immediately, and thank you for meeting with us today.”
Grace took the card and tucked it into her purse. “Please let me know as soon as you hear anything,” she implored. “I’m really worried about Amber. I don’t want anything bad to happen to her.”
They agreed to do so, but all Josie could think was that something bad had probably already happened to Amber.
In her pocket, her cell phone trilled, buzzing against her hip. She took it out, swiping answer when she saw Dr. Feist’s name on the screen.
“Josie? I think you guys might want to get over here to the morgue. I’ve got a woman here who claims that Jane Doe is her daughter.”
Seventeen
Josie expected to see someone in the dingy hallway outside the morgue doors, but the area was empty. Noah had gone to check on Mettner while Josie and Gretchen went to the morgue to meet the woman claiming to be Jane Doe’s mother. Except there was only Ramon, Dr. Feist’s assistant, in the exam room, cleaning instruments and straightening up. He glanced up when they walked in, nodding a greeting. “The doc is in her office with our guest,” he told them. “Just a minute.”
He left them standing in the middle of the room. This time, Jane Doe was not on an exam table but inside a body bag on a gurney that had been wheeled into the room. The door that led from the exam room into the doctor’s private office swung open. Dr. Feist stepped through, followed by a small, slight woman whose brown shoulder-length curls were threaded through with gray. She wore a thick double-breasted tan skirt suit that made her look like the austere headmistress of a private school. Only her brown ankle-length Gucci boots softened the look. Even wearing those, she was shorter than Josie. Over her shoulder hung a brown leather crocodile-skin Hermès bag. She carried herself with gravitas, entering the room as though she was a foreign dignitary making a visit. Her fingers were laden with large diamond rings, and she wore a diamond pendant around her neck. Diamond studs sparkled from her earlobes. Josie studied her face as she stood perfectly still before them, waiting for someone to speak. There was a passing resemblance to Amber and to Jane Doe, but it wasn’t striking.
“Detectives,” said Dr. Feist. “This is Lydia Norris.”
Lydia did not offer a hand. Instead, she said, “It was Watts at one time.”
Gretchen asked, “Are you Amber Watts’ mother?”
A strained smile crossed her face. “Yes, I am.” She gestured toward the body. “I came because I heard on the news that police had recovered a body from the river that matched the description of my daughter.”
“Amber?” Josie clarified.
“Yes, Amber.”
“Mrs. Norris,” said Gretchen. “It wasn’t Amber who was recovered from the river last night.”
Worry formed a vertical line between Lydia’s eyebrows. “How well do you know Amber? Well enough to identify her? I gave birth to her.”
Josie looked at Gretchen and then back to Lydia. “We worked with Amber every day for the past year or so. Our colleague, he and Amber, well—we know this isn’t Amber, but we have been told that Amber had a sister.”
Lydia’s still fa?ade faltered for a moment. Confusion creased her forehead. “I don’t—what would—my other daughter wouldn’t be here. Amber was here. She was living here, working here. It had to be her. I’m sure of it.”
Josie met Dr. Feist’s gaze and gave a small nod. Lydia followed the doctor as she went to the body bag and carefully unzipped it, parting it so that only Jane Doe’s face was visible. Lydia’s hand flew to her mouth. “Oh,” she gasped. A tremor ran the length of her body. “This is… this is my… my Eden.”
“Eden?” said Gretchen. “That’s the name of your other daughter?”
She reached forward, as though she was going to touch Eden, but then stopped. Her fingers trembled in mid-air before she snatched them back, pressing them to her chest. “Yes,” she whispered. “Eden Watts. This is my daughter. She… I don’t understand. What happened?”
“We were hoping you could help us figure that out,” said Josie. “Amber has been missing for three days now. We found a message outside of her home indicating that she should meet someone at the Russell Haven Dam. But when we found Eden, she was stuck in the rocks near the water release chute. She had been tortured and restrained in the days leading up to that. She was badly injured but still alive. We tried to save her but she drowned.”