“I know you probably won’t believe me, but I don’t remember much from the hospital. They had me pumped full of so many drugs I didn’t know what was going on. But I remember enough to know that I must have really scared you. I’m so sorry.” She rolled a pebble back and forth under the toe of her shoe. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t explain sooner, Sutton. I was too scared to tell you the truth, about my history, about my illness. That night we met here, it was so hard to leave you with all your questions. I almost came back to explain, but I was afraid.”
Emma turned away from Becky, pacing in a little circle, trying to clear her head. Leave you? Come back? It sounded like when Becky left, Sutton was still safe. But could she take Becky at her word? She was crazy.
But Becky looked so much more lucid now, her eyes focused, her breathing even and calm. All of the memories Emma had clung to over the years seemed to crowd in around her. Becky singing off-key along with the radio, teaching her the words to all the Beatles songs. Becky taking her to the free shows along the Vegas strip, her face reflecting the light from the Bellagio fountain. Becky stroking her hair out of her face, carrying her into the apartment after an afternoon playing outside, and tucking her into bed, Emma pretending to be asleep so she could lay against her mother’s shoulder. And here she was, right now, telling Emma she had walked away from a still-living Sutton in the canyon the night they’d met.
“Becky didn’t kill me,” I whispered urgently. “Believe her, Emma.”
And suddenly, as though she had heard me, Emma did.
But just to be certain, she asked Becky another question. “Where did you go, after that night?”
Becky sighed. “Vegas, actually. I had a feeling your sister might be there. I even got a job at the diner in the Hard Rock, so that I could stay longer and look for her. But I never found her.” She stopped, suddenly looking hopeful. “Have you made any headway in tracking her down?”
Vegas, Emma thought. If things had been different, Becky might have come for her and reunited the twins herself. Then she realized what Becky’s words meant: Becky had told Sutton about Emma. The knowledge brought a fresh crush of sadness over her. In her last few hours of life, Sutton had known she had a sister.
“Yes and no,” Emma said softly.
Becky’s hand squeezed hers in the darkness. “I loved her so much. Giving both of you up was the biggest mistake of my life. Find her, Sutton. Her life hasn’t been as easy as yours. Give her the chances you’ve gotten.”
Emma took a deep breath. “You have another daughter, too, don’t you?”
Becky’s eyes widened, her mouth dropping open for a moment. She blinked several times, then nodded. “Yes,” she said softly. “How’d you …”
“Where is she?” Emma pressed.
“California. With her father. I was declared unfit to care for her five years ago. I haven’t seen her since.”
“How old is she now?”
“Twelve,” Becky said. “I was pregnant with her when I gave up your sister.” She shook her head sadly. “I know it doesn’t make any sense. All I can tell you is I wasn’t in my right mind. I was off my meds, and it seemed like a good decision at the time.” She was quiet for a moment. “I haven’t stopped feeling guilty about it ever since.”
Emma’s heart twisted in her chest. She knew she’d been abandoned for another child, but it was even harder hearing Becky say it aloud.
Then she imagined Becky’s life: traveling from town to town, unable to go home, to see the people she loved. Yes, she’d been destructive. She was alone because she’d hurt the people in her life too much. But Becky hadn’t chosen to be mentally ill. And in her own twisted way, she’d tried to do what was right.
Emma stepped toward Becky. She looked her mother up and down again. She’d call the Hard Rock Hotel later and confirm that Becky had been working there after Sutton died—if she was in Vegas, she couldn’t exactly be leaving Emma threatening notes and rigging light fixtures to crash on her head. But she already knew what they would say. Becky was telling the truth.
Under the smell of tobacco, she caught a whiff of the same cheap herbal shampoo Becky had always used when Emma was a child, chamomile and mint. She remembered that fragrance washing over her when her mom leaned down to kiss her good night. Her lip quivered, her eyes brimming with tears.
“Mom,” she said hesitantly. “Did you see anyone else in the canyon that night? Someone stole my Volvo and hit my—and hit Thayer with it. I need to know who has it out for me.”
Becky frowned, shaking her head. “I don’t think so. Dad and I got out there early in the evening and it was pretty crowded, but by the time you and I talked it was empty.”
Emma stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Becky in a tight hug. For a moment Becky seemed frozen in shock. Then she put her arms around Emma, too. Emma held her mother for the first time in thirteen years. So the investigation was at a dead end again. No new leads, no new suspects. But at least her mother had been crossed off the list. And she’d finally gotten some answers about her family, about her own history.