Abby and Leo had not been in the same room until the day of sentencing nearly seven months after finding Emma’s body in the woods. They had to be careful about appearances. But Abby had met with Cass to help with the evaluation of her mental state. And Leo had written reports, given depositions, and met with the higher-ups at the New Haven field office to walk them through everything that had happened.
The investigation had not ended, even after the conviction of Judy Martin. There was the death of the boatman, Richard Foley, which was being investigated by the Maine state police in conjunction with the Bureau. The working theory had it pinned on the Petersons. Their rowboat was found in a wooded area near the water’s edge in nearby Christmas Cove, confirming their hasty departure from the island. The couple had not been found. The Bureau was heading up the search for them—Carl and Lorna Peterson, a.k.a Bill and Lucy Pratt—and possibly one unidentified child whose clothes were found in the dresser drawers.
There were two pieces of the puzzle that had fallen through the cracks. The first was the child.
Other than one book of lullabies, some clothing in a drawer and a crib found in the basement of the house on the island, there was no evidence of a child. Dishes, drains, linens were initially examined for biological evidence, but the search came to a screeching halt after Emma’s body was found. With Abby’s guidance, Cass was able to process what had transpired and soon reported that the child had, in fact, been part of her delusion. The working theory was now that the clothing and crib and the book were keepsakes from the child the Petersons had lost years before—although that child had been a two-year-old boy, and the clothes belonged to a two-year-old girl. Still, there was no reason to expend additional resources on forensic evaluations until they found the Petersons and had some kind of crime to prove.
The second piece was composed of the family dynamics that preceded the fatal incident on the balcony of the Martins’ home. They had some idea that Emma and her mother had a volatile relationship. Owen Tanner testified about the fighting between them. So did Witt. But Owen could not bring himself to accept that Judy had killed their daughter. He bent his testimony to cast the doubt on Jonathan and Hunter. The defense introduced evidence about the nude photos, which gave Jonathan Martin a motive, undermining his credibility. Hunter Martin, likewise, was offered as a witness by the prosecution to support his father’s testimony and cast the doubt back on Judy. He told of Emma’s promiscuity and Judy’s jealousy of her—things he observed merely as an innocent bystander. He denied getting Emma pregnant. And while Cass recounted the story about Emma’s hair and, of course, what she recalled about the night her sister fell to her death, her testimony came under fierce scrutiny. After all, she had been delusional. She had told everyone, in great detail, about her sister’s being alive and having given birth to a child that was never born.
Wasn’t there anything else? The prosecutors had begged her for more stories about her childhood with Judy Martin—anything that would help the jury leap the hurdles they were asking them to clear to find Judy guilty over her husband. But Cass insisted she had nothing. And so the jury remained uncertain and unable to convict her of more than the obstruction charge, and a panoply of smaller crimes related to the removal and burial of the body.
“There’s more. I know there is.”
Abby sat beside Leo on a park bench outside the small courthouse. The media had dispersed. The lawyers had gone back to their offices. And Judy Martin had just been sentenced and was on her way to the women’s federal correctional facility in Aliceville, Alabama.
Cass had chosen not to attend the sentencing.
“She doesn’t care. This wasn’t about justice,” Leo said.
Abby sighed and shook her head. The system had failed Emma Tanner. And Cass had been a part of it. Her stories could have tipped the scales. But she did not want the truth about what went on in that house to see the light of day.
“She just wanted to find her sister, Abby. That’s all.”
Abby knew he was right. Watching Cass testify against her mother had been infuriating, so much so that Abby had struggled with the decision to continue protecting her, lying for her. And, in turn, asking Leo to lie as well.
“No one is looking into the past, into how bad things were in that house, and so no one is looking for the child. Those two pieces—they go hand in hand,” Leo reminded her. “Remember what Cass said? People believe what they want to believe, and no one wants to believe that a mother could kill her own daughter. It’s so much easier to swallow an evil, controlling stepfather protecting his son than a ruthless mother. No one wants to see a mother like that. A mother that evil, even if it does come from an illness. It shakes us to the core.”
Abby looked at him. “And no one did see. Not Owen Tanner. Not the court. Not the school. Not even the girls, until it was too late.”
“Do you understand now? Why I didn’t want you to go after this three years ago? You would have been destroyed, Abby.”
That was a hard one for Abby to swallow. Even after the truth had come out and the remains were found, the prosecution had chosen not to use any expert testimony or pursue any psychiatric evaluations of Judy Martin on the theory of narcissistic personality disorder. They didn’t have enough to back it up. It was too subjective. Too rare. And because of Abby’s past and the paper she’d written on the subject, it would turn the light back on the trap they had set for Judy and her husband. And no one at the Bureau wanted that.
“I don’t know how to feel about any of this. I don’t feel relieved. I don’t feel vindicated about being right.”
Abby stared at the courthouse. It was a beautiful but cold winter day. Blue skies. Puffy clouds. The air was crisp and cut right through her wool coat. She shivered and Leo put his arm around her.
He had saved her from what could have been a disastrous outcome. If he had told the truth about the decision to lie to the Martins—that it was Abby who had wanted to set the trap—the case and her career could have come undone.
But that was not his only deception.
Somewhere in the Tanner file was a piece of paper with a name and a number, buried deep now, just in case he ever needed it. It was a witness from the train station in Portland. Leo would say he never called her back because the case was solved before he had the chance. He would say he forgot about it, or that she sounded like one of the other nutjobs who had phoned in tips on the case. After all, she’d said that a woman who looked just like Cass Tanner was riding a train for New York and had asked to use her phone to look up an address. And she was not alone. Beside her, curled up and fast asleep, was a little girl.
Abby and Leo both believed that Cass had spent those missing two days delivering her daughter to safety before she returned home. And they had bets on Witt being an accomplice. They had said nothing, and done nothing about any of it.
“What do you think she’ll do now?” Leo asked.
“I don’t know, exactly. But I do know she’ll do whatever is best for her daughter.”