She went completely still. Mr. Isom walked away, the door almost closing behind him. But Veronica recovered and pushed the screen door wider.
“Come in.”
Veronica had long dark hair that hung over her shoulders in wet clumps, big bourbon-colored eyes, and a curvy figure. She’d been towel-drying her hair and picked up where she’d left off, squeezing the ends with the damp towel.
I navigated the steps to a rickety porch and stepped inside. There were toys strewn about the small mobile home.
“My nephew’s. He’s at the store with my mother,” she said, explaining the clutter. She kicked a few toys out of the way and offered me a seat. “Can I get you anything to drink?”
It was a sweet gesture. Inside, her pulse pounded like a war drum. Her hands shook as they pressed water from her hair. And there was something unnatural about her movements. They were stiff. Anxious. The strong elixir of hope and fear had rendered her partially paralyzed.
“No, thank you, I’m fine.”
When she sat down, she put the towel aside and pressed her shaking hands onto her lap. Then waited. No, hoped. Prayed. Begged.
“Veronica, the couple that approached you all those years ago, do you remember what looked like?”
“How did you hear about the case?” she asked, suddenly confused. “Are you working with my public defender?”
“No. I’m sorry, I should’ve explained. I’m a private investigator. I’m working on another case that is peripheral to yours.”
Her pretty brows cinched together. “In what way?”
“I can’t tell you. Confidentiality and all. But I will say I think I know who approached you and why.”
She bowed her head. “Because I was homeless with a newborn. That’s why they approached me.”
I wasn’t about to go into the fact that her baby probably had some kind of aura that caught the Fosters’ attention, so I went along with her story. “I’m sure. Why were you homeless?”
Mr. Isom stood in the kitchen, listening to every word we said.
She glanced that direction, then said, “I was a mess back then. On and off drugs. I’d stayed clean, though. Once I found out I was pregnant, I got clean and stayed that way. Then, after I had Liana, her father came back into the picture.”
I felt a deep fury emanate from Mr. Isom’s general direction. Clearly, his daughter’s ex didn’t invoke the warm and fuzzies.
“He said he wanted to help raise our daughter. Talked me into moving in with him. A month later” – she dipped her chin even farther – “I was back on the shit and we were fighting all the time. He kicked me out, but I couldn’t come back home. I wasn’t ready to go through that again.”
“To go through —?” I stopped myself. Of course. “The withdrawals.”
She bit her lip and nodded.
“He got you hooked again?”
“He didn’t force me into anything.” The guilt radiating out of her stole my breath.
I leaned toward her. “But he took advantage of the situation, Veronica.”
“He led. Didn’t mean I had to follow. And yet, here we are.” Her breath hitched in her chest and I picked lint off my sweater, giving her a moment to recover.
I didn’t argue with her. She was right, of course, but I’d wager he still deserved a lot of the blame.
I decided to steer the conversation back to the case. “There’s a reason you’re having a hard time finding evidence that the adoption agency existed. It was never licensed.”
She nodded. “Yeah, that’s what the investigator said, but he can’t track down who actually ran the business. Or the fake business.”
I pulled up the side-by-side picture I had of the Fosters that Cookie had found from around the time they’d taken Veronica’s baby.
“I know this might be impossible to remember, but is this them?”
She looked at the picture. Squinted. Turned it a little to the left. “I don’t think so.”
My hopes plummeted. Maybe I was on the wrong track. Barking up the wrong tree. Grasping at straws. And any other cliché I could think of.
“I think…,” she continued, staring at the Fosters. “I think that’s the couple that actually adopted her.”
I straightened, hope blossoming. “You remember them?”
“No.” She stood and went for her purse. “I never met them, but the agents gave me a picture of the couple who was going to adopt Liana to make me feel better about the whole thing. I was really hesitant. I dug it out when… when they found her.”
She pulled out a picture.
I took it and almost cheered aloud. “It’s them,” I said, recognition rocketing through me. “So, a different couple approached you for this couple?”
“Yeah, they seemed a little too Jesus freak, but I figured anything was better than living in a drug-infested squalor.”
“Except for living with us,” her father said, his tone bitter.
“Dad, stop it. It wasn’t you. You know that.”
He turned and went back into the kitchen.
“Veronica, how old were you?”
“I was sixteen.” She glanced over her shoulder. “After they took Liana, I did it. I got clean again. I decided I was going to try to get her back. I know that’s a shitty thing to do, but it was so sudden. I only had a few days to think about it. I thought I was giving her a better home. All this time, I thought she was living a life I couldn’t give her. A better life. And they… they killed her.”
She covered her mouth with her hands and let a suffocating agony wash over her. Her shoulders shook and I moved beside her. Wrapped an arm around her as she tried to gather herself.