If You Only Knew: A gripping, debut thriller that you won't want to put down

by Cynthia Clark

  For a while I pace back and forth, walking between my desk and the window and the door and the desk again in an endless triangle. We haven’t heard from the detectives, have no idea what’s happening with the investigation into Maya’s birth mother. Despite Ellen’s daily calls asking about the case, I have stopped short of contacting Detective Brown. My justification that I’ve been too busy is just an excuse. I’m scared of what he’ll tell me, worried that he will see through me and realise that my eagerness is due to my involvement, especially if he already has the slightest suspicion of who I really am.

  But every night I lie awake in the empty bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering how close I am to be discovered. I think about Mary Beth, coming forward to do the right thing. And Maya, standing up to her parents. I cannot ward off Ellen’s questions for much longer. With shaking hands I pick up the phone and dial Detective Brown’s number.

  “Hello,” he says in his usual gruff voice.

  “Detective Brown, this is Elizabeth Perkins. I’m working on Tom and Ellen McBride’s case.”

  “Yes, yes. Hello.”

  “I’m calling to see if there have been any developments in your investigation. Mr and Mrs McBride are eager to know.” Clutching the phone between my ear and chin, I shrug out of my jacket, suddenly feeling uncomfortably warm. “Maya keeps asking them,” I add.

  “Yes, of course. Give me a second.” There’s a long pause and I hear the shuffling of papers on the other side of the line. My heart is beating faster and faster. There’s a lump in my throat that makes me feel like I’m about to choke. “Here it is.” I hear him whisper.

  In a louder voice he continues: “We received Maya’s birth certificate from the US. Her biological mother is called Laura Black. We’re currently working on tracking her down but haven’t had any luck yet.”

  My hand trembles around the pen I’m clutching. I tighten my fist around it, trying to steady the shaking. They know the name. How long will it take to find out it’s a fake? I don’t dare say anything.

  “Do you think she’s still in the US?”

  “We don’t know; we’re looking in both countries. We also spoke to the McBrides’ adoption attorney and he gave us the few details he had. Looks like she was a student and wanted to give up the baby so she could continue with her studies. She was British actually, which reinforces our belief that she might have been involved in Larkin’s murder. The lawyer insisted that she seemed like a normal girl. He thought she had just found herself in a sticky situation and wanted to give up the baby to continue with her life. He thinks he might have her file somewhere in storage, with copies of her identity card, and promised to look for it.”

  The photos. That is likely to be my unravelling. Despite changing my hair colour and wearing glasses, the resemblance is still there. They will easily see it. Still, I force myself to remain calm. “So, no real leads yet?”

  “No, unfortunately not. I understand that this can be frustrating, especially for Maya, but these things can take time… Especially since we have to involve law enforcement in the US.”

  There’s a knock and Jennifer puts her head round the door. “The jury’s back,” she mouths when she sees me still on the phone.

  “Ok, thank you detective.” Standing up, I put my jacket back on. “I’ll check back in a few days. Hopefully you’ll have some more information.”

  Hanging up I go to get Chloe. She’s lying on the couch staring at the ceiling. “We need to go back.”

  “Did you manage to get any sleep,” I ask her in the taxi.

  She shakes her head but doesn’t say anything. Her hands are shaking. She clasps them tightly in her lap until her knuckles turn white. Her face is as pale as can be, her eyes sunken and rimmed with dark circles. She looks at me, her face distorted in fear. “I’m scared,” she says.

  A surge of affection for her rushes through me mingled with regret at having considered turning her away. I don’t know what the next hour will bring, but I know that her case never stood a chance in the hands of the public defender. I’ve done my best and normally that’s good enough for me. Yet, seeing her so helpless, so terrified, I wish I could give her assurances. But everything is out of our hands now. I cannot tell her not to be afraid for fear of raising expectations I can’t fulfil. We sit together and I squeeze her hand.

  We walk into the courtroom and it seems to take ages for the jury to be brought in. Chloe is standing rod straight next to me. The judge is handed the verdict and I see him nod. The head juror stands up and starts reading the charges. As we wait for those words that will determine Chloe’s fate, it feels like a vacuum where time has stopped. I find myself trembling and can only imagine how she feels.

  The head juror’s mouth moves as if in slow motion. I strain to hear above the sound of blood pumping in my ears. Then I hear a scream. It’s not loud, but sounds like the cry of a wounded animal. Looking around I see everyone staring right past me. Behind me Chloe is crumpled on the chair, her face buried in her hands.

  Chapter 39

  Luigi is sitting on the sofa in my office when I get back. Standing up, he breaks into a theatrical loud clap as I walk in. “Brava! That was amazing. You won the unwinnable case.”

  “We got lucky.” And I believe it. Without Mary Beth’s testimony I’m not sure Chloe would have been acquitted. Instead of being over, her ordeal would only be just beginning.

  He cranes his neck to look behind me and through the open door. “Where’s Chloe? Thought I’d take you girls to a late lunch. Hawksmoor?”

  “Oh, she went home. She looked drained.”

  “She must be relieved though. This could have gone very differently. Thanks to you it didn’t.”

  Leaning against my desk, I nod slowly, remembering the first time I met Chloe and my reservations about taking her case.

  “What about you? Fancy lunch? Couple of cocktails? You deserve to celebrate.”

  The idea is tempting. Luigi is fun to be around and I could do with the distraction, a break from the incessant worry. But anxieties press in on me, and a quick glance at my overloaded desk stops me. “I’d love to but have so much work to catch up on.” Then, seeing Luigi’s disappointed face, I add: “Why don’t you come to dinner sometime soon? I know Miles would love to see you.”

  Once Luigi’s gone I bury myself in paperwork, wanting to catch up on my other cases. There’s a knock on the door and Jennifer walks in. “Detective Brown just called. He said they’ve uncovered something about Maya’s birth mother and wants to speak to you immediately. He’s asking whether you can go down to the station.”

  Shock spreads across my whole body. I feel like I cannot move. I can barely even breathe. I realise after a while that I’m holding my breath and notice Jennifer looking at me strangely. “You don’t have any meetings scheduled for this afternoon if you want to go.”

  Nodding, I wait for her to leave. Alone in my office, I allow fear to overwhelm me for a few seconds. They must have made the link to me, that’s why he wants to speak to me urgently.

  Putting my head in my hands, I lower it towards my desk, as my desperation continues to intensify. My heart is beating so fast that I fear it’s going to do some serious damage. Asking me to go to his office, rather than speak to me on the phone, sounds menacing. Am I going to be arrested? There’s no doubt that they’ve uncovered something important. I know I’m in deep trouble and there’s nothing I can do about it. I square my shoulders and put on my coat.

  *

  Detective Brown is in a meeting when I get to the police station and I’m shown to a dingy waiting room. The minutes tick by and I keep glancing at the clock in one corner of the empty room. Picking up a magazine, I try to read but the words dance in front of my eyes, blurring into each other. I cannot think about anything other than what Detective Brown is going to tell me. I close the magazine and put it back on the rack and just stare in front of me.

  Finally, after what seems like an endless wait, I am shown into the detect
ive’s office.

  I sit down on the chair across from his desk, anxiety eating away at me. My hands are shaking and I hide them behind my bag, twirling its strap around my fingers. Taking a deep breath, I clench my jaw and look at Detective Brown. This is it. This is the moment of truth. In just moments I am going to find out whether he knows about me. He’s going to tell me how the investigation led them to me. How my careful plan to hide my identity fell apart under their scrutiny.

  I wonder whether he’s going to press charges immediately. Or will he give me a chance to tell my side of the story? Am I going to be interrogated right now? Will he be questioning me or is he going to get someone else?

  Perhaps I should have gone home, said goodbye to Miles, spent some time with the children. Their innocent faces flash in front of my eyes. They don’t deserve to grow up without a mother. They shouldn’t be paying for my mistakes.

  “What did you need to speak to me about?” I have to know. This wait needs to be over right now. I cannot take it anymore.

  “Yes, yes,” he says. “I know you must be busy.” He opens one of his desk drawers and rummages inside, taking out a green folder and opening it in front of him. He takes his time scanning it. I crane my neck to see what he’s reading but cannot make out the words from my position. Finally, when I think I’m about to explode with anxiety, he looks up at me.

  “I wanted to speak to you before I shared the news with Mr and Mrs McBride,” he starts. “I felt it was important to give you the opportunity to speak to them yourself since you seem to be friends.”

  Here it comes, I think. This is exactly what I’ve been fearing for all these years. It is finally happening and I cannot do anything to stop it. It feels like a train careening on the tracks towards me. All I can do is stand there, wanting to move away, wanting to do something to stop it from hitting me, but knowing that I am powerless. I cannot move from my position, even though I know that in just a few seconds I’m going to get hit and killed. I cannot change my destiny.

  “I told you already that we unsealed Maya’s birth certificate and discovered her biological mother to be Laura Black. We strongly believe in a link between her and John Larkin’s death and we really want to find her and have her answer some questions…”

  His voice trails off. I can feel the bad news coming soon and I sit stock still as I wait for it.

  Detective Brown is staring at me with a strange expression on his face, as if he doesn’t really know how to continue. Is that pity in his eyes? Could he be feeling bad that he’s about to change my life forever?

  “We’ve searched for Laura Black. Both here and in America. We’ve tried everything to find her. But we can’t.”

  Why is he telling me this? Why does he keep wasting time on inane details? Why doesn’t he get right to the point? I know that Laura Black doesn’t exist. She never did. When is he going to tell me that they found out Laura Black is me?

  “This ID card is fake,” he continues. “We tried to see if the clinic had any other details of her, maybe they took a DNA swab or something similar, but even if they did, those records have been discarded.”

  “Laura Black doesn’t exist and we have hit a wall.”

  His words reverberate in my head. Could it be possible that they were unable to make the link? That my efforts to hide my tracks were successful? Or is this a trap? Is Detective Brown trying to lure me into a false sense of security so that I let my guard down and blurt out the information he needs to nail me?

  “What does this mean?” I need to understand exactly what he’s saying.

  “Whoever Laura Black was has covered her tracks so well that she’s managed to disappear into thin air.”

  The room is spinning around me and I am afraid that I’m going to faint. Swallowing hard, I ask: “So what’s the next step?”

  “We’re going to continue looking, but it doesn’t look good. I wanted to be upfront about this, especially since there’s a child involved.”

  “So, the investigation isn’t closed?”

  “No, no. We don’t really have much to go on, but we’re re-examining all the evidence and hope to find some way to track this woman down.”

  My head feels heavy as I walk out of the police station. Who knows what they will find once they examine all the evidence. Forensics have made great advancements. There could be something hiding in plain sight that will lead them to me.

  My work phone flashes. The investigator’s name pops up on the screen:

  Just emailed you that report.

  Not wanting to go back to the office, I duck into a coffee shop and log into my inbox, opening the report and skimming it fast for new revelations. Mrs Larkin wasn’t lying when she talked about her aggressive husband. Luke had uncovered reports of regular hospital visits. Every bone in her body seemed to have been broken or sprained. There were reports of gashes on her face. Why did nobody take action? And why did she not walk away from the cycle of abuse?

  I cannot help but feel sorry for her. She never had a break. Instead, her life has been a constant struggle. Then the unspeakable happened. The nightmare that every mother fears. She lost her son.

  No wonder she is obsessed with meeting Maya. She wants, needs, some happiness in her life.

  There’s no reason why Maya should not hear this story. Tom and Ellen might not want her to, claiming she’s too young, and won’t understand. They’ll come up with some excuse to keep her in the dark, unless I take matters into my own hands.

  I wish I could tell her everything. Tell her exactly what John Larkin did. How gullible I was to get in the car with him. How I managed to escape. Why, in a moment of panic, I decided to cover up my tracks. And why I decided to give her up, how I’ve come to regret my decision.

  But I cannot do that. Instead, I’ll let her find out about the grandmother she never knew she had.

  *

  Traffic is light, allowing me to get home in record time. As the car speeds forward I think about Mrs Larkin. The years of covering up for her husband, telling everyone that the dark bruises, the broken bones, were caused by clumsiness. The hospital records showed multiple miscarriages and I’m certain that they were caused by the beatings. Why did she have to be cursed with such horrible men in her life?

  Maya’s head is bent over the book she’s reading, her hair falling in front of her face, covering her features. The seconds trickle by as I stand in the doorway, motionless, looking at her. With a quick movement she flicks her hair behind her left ear and I can see her lips moving as she reads.

  Don’t look up, I will her, wanting to absorb this moment, make sure I don’t forget even the smallest detail.

  Too soon she finishes the story. “Are you hungry?” she asks the children, her beaming smile warming my heart. Before she sees me watching her, I walk into the room.

  “Can you come into the study for a few minutes?”

  Maya’s head shoots up. She nods and gets to her feet. She looks scared, like a little girl sent to the headmaster’s office.

  *

  There’s a moment when I almost change my mind. As Maya sits across from me, I find myself re-evaluating my decision, questioning whether I’m doing the right thing. If I’m being selfish.

  It’s not too late to backtrack. I can tell Maya that I will not be breaching her parents’ trust and giving her information about the investigation. That I will not go behind her parents’ back to arrange a meeting with Mrs Larkin. Warn her that I will tell Tom and Ellen about our conversation.

  But then I look at her. She is biting her nails, nervously nibbling at the skin on her fingers. She is looking at me with eyes full of expectation. And I cannot bring myself to let her down.

  “This document doesn’t leave this room, but I want you to read it.” I hand her a copy of the investigator’s report.

  She takes the stapled pages and turns them over in her hands. I see her eyes move quickly from one side to the other as she skims over the words. Her hand shoots to her mouth and sh
e keeps it there. I cannot see what she’s reading but wonder whether finding out about Mrs Larkin’s constant beatings will traumatise her, leave a permanent mark.

  The rustling of the pages is the only sound in the room. While I don’t want to interrupt her reading, I need to set the ground rules. What I’m doing right now is wrong on so many levels. I’m going behind my clients’ back, against their wishes, and speaking directly to a minor. I could get into trouble, more than I already am. Someone might suspect that I have a vested interest in this case. That my actions are more than those of a lawyer and a friend. That perhaps I’m further involved.

  “I am still working for your parents and will continue discussing the case with them, advising them on the best way forward,” I explain. “That won’t be changing. But I will consider giving you information about the investigation.”

  “Thank you,” she says.

  Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath. There’s no way back now. I’ve crossed a line. “This will work as long as you don’t tell your parents. Once you do, I will no longer share any information with you. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, yes.” Her answer comes quickly.

  “I’ll leave you alone to read it.”

  With that, I walk out of the study. My breathing is fast and I stop just outside the room, leaning against the wall. This was a mistake, I think. How do I know I can trust Maya to keep this a secret? Deep inside I fear that this will start a cascade of consequences which will uncover my hand. I should have thought this through better, acted in my own best interest rather than get carried away by my feelings for Maya. I wouldn’t have acted this way if it was anyone else, risked my career.

  “Mummy, are you all right?” a small voice asks.

  Looking down I see Julian standing next to me. “Yes, of course,” I say, straightening up. “Where are you going?”

  “Nowhere,” he says, looking away.

  Bending over, I pick him up, marvelling at how heavy he’s become. “Wanna watch TV?”