Not My Mother by Miranda Smith (lightweight ebook reader .txt) 📕

“She never told me anything about him. Even when I asked. I don’t know anything. Sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize,” Carmen says, her tone kinder.

I clear my throat, handing Ava a block just out of her reach. “It’s overwhelming having to sift through my entire life in a matter of minutes.”

“I know. That’s why we’re talking now. It’s better to get the emotional stuff out of the way. When the police arrive this afternoon, it needs to be all facts.” Carmen shifts in her seat, placing her hand over mine. “Really, you’ve done nothing wrong here. Even if what they’re saying about Eileen is true—”

“Do you think it’s true?” I stare at her, hoping she’ll be honest. Although, honesty is hard in this complicated situation. She’s my mother, and even I don’t know if I believe what they’re saying about her. I know I don’t want to believe it.

“It’s never my responsibility to decide whether a person did the crime they’re accused of committing. My job is to argue reasonable doubt. I find the holes in the prosecution’s case and go from there.”

“Do you think there is reasonable doubt? Are there holes in the case?”

“You already know the police are alleging your mother’s birth name is Sarah Paxton. There has not been any sign of that woman since the late eighties. Her last known whereabouts were in the New Hutton area. That’s where Caroline Parker was kidnapped. She was only three months old. It was a media circus at the time. Bruce Parker was found dead at the scene. Trauma to the head.”

“That’s all they have? That Mom might have gone by the name Sarah Paxton and lived in the same area?”

“They’re comparing her DNA and fingerprints to what was found on the scene back then. Results could take a few more days. Other than that, they’re trying to find out as much as they can about Eileen’s past and compare it to Sarah’s.”

Good luck with that, I think. Even I’m unsure about Mom’s history. It never seemed important until now.

“And they think I’m Baby Caroline?”

“Yes.”

Silence fills the room.

“Why now? It’s been so long.”

“Any case that big is always a priority. Also, the parents were wealthy. The mother—” Carmen’s eyes dart to the left. I know what she’s thinking. Your mother. Maybe. “Mrs. Parker named Sarah Paxton as a suspect from the beginning. The two women met at a counseling center where Mrs. Parker worked. She believes Sarah developed an unhealthy obsession with her. Sarah broke into their home, attacked them and left with Caroline.”

“All these years this woman has known who stole her baby? And she’s been trying to find her?”

“She never stopped searching for answers. No telling how much money she has poured into dead ends over the years. An anonymous tip let them know Sarah Paxton was living in North Bay, which is what led them here. All they need is to prove you were… are Baby Caroline.”

“I’ll do it right now,” I say, my body bucking with adrenaline, answers feeling within reach. “Let’s submit a DNA test.”

“It would help Eileen’s case if you didn’t volunteer anything. A test is inevitable, but let the police come to you. No need to speed up the process. Your priority should be helping your mom.”

I recall the look on Mom’s face as they cuffed her wrists behind her back. She was broken, afraid. I want to help her, but there is a knot of anger tangling in my gut. Maybe she’s not who they say she is, maybe I’m not who they say I am, but something isn’t adding up. After all these years, the police wouldn’t make a move unless they were confident they had found the right person. The fact Carmen insists I don’t take a test suggests she’s worried about what the results might be.

“When will I get to speak with her?”

“I’m hoping this afternoon. After your talk with the investigators.” Carmen looks down, pretends she’s fiddling with something, although her hands are empty. “Meanwhile, I’ll have Rick look into everything he can find about Sarah Paxton.”

He’s been sitting with us the whole time in silence. Occasionally, he’ll scribble something on his notepad. He sits up, lifting his briefcase from off the floor and unlocking it.

“I wanted to give you this,” he says, handing over a business card. “It’s got my cell phone number. If you run into any problems or feel like you’re not safe, call me. Day or night.”

“Not safe?” I look to Carmen. “Why wouldn’t I be safe?”

“Again, when a case is this big, it brings the crazies out,” she says. “I’m already trying to make the press back off.”

“I’m leaving you with this, too,” Rick says. He pulls out a black baton. It looks like the type of weapon a policeman might carry on his utility belt.

I release a quick laugh. “You’ve got to be kidding me. You don’t think I’ll really need that thing, do you?”

The look on Carmen’s face is serious. “It wouldn’t hurt to carry it around. Leave it within arm’s reach whenever you’re inside the house. It’s better to be safe than sorry.”

I exhale, taking the baton from Rick’s hand. Owning one of these is out of character, let alone having to use it. Then I remember the fruit being chucked at The Shack’s front window last night. I think of what other actions people might take to get my attention, or worse, punish us for what they think Mom has done. My life has become so bizarre in such a short amount of time.

“I have a bad feeling,” I say. “This seems like a losing battle. How will we prove to the police they have the wrong person?”

“Right now, it’s like we’re getting pummeled with all the evidence the prosecution has already gathered. They’ve had a head start, after all.” Carmen leans back, crossing her legs and placing her hands on her stomach. “As hopeless as things might appear, there’s plenty of holes. The crime happened