“Yes, he is,” said Baker. “I used something we call ‘police judo’ to convince him to come chat with us. It helped that his attorney is vacationing not too far from here. He’s going to meet us at the station as well.”
The development surprised her, but Julia was glad to know they were making progress. “What about Fiona? Is the house a crime scene now?” she asked.
Baker’s slim smile bent into a frown. “At this time, I can’t really say. We did recover a gun from the property, though I don’t know any more than that. But I would like to have a quick word with the nanny, Izzy. Is she available?”
Julia asked Erika to take over kid duty to allow Izzy to join them outside. When she emerged from the house, Izzy looked like an anxious survivor of a natural disaster. Her curls were unruly, her steps as tentative as her expression. Julia decided to stay close by for moral support.
Baker’s demeanor remained relaxed. She conveyed nothing but support and caring, so it didn’t appear the young nanny was in any trouble. “Izzy, I just want a quick word with you, if I may.” Baker looked to Julia. “It’s a private matter.”
Izzy brushed off the dismissal. “She can hear it, whatever it is,” she said.
Baker straightened. “Very well. I know who you are—we did some investigating. That’s kind of in our job description, you know?”
Izzy’s face flushed. “So you found out I’m related to Susie Welch?”
Baker nodded her head enough times to imply that and more. “Izzy, my father was a police officer here in town many years ago, and I followed in his footsteps. This is hard to share—hard to say, but I think you have a right to know.”
Izzy’s hand gripped Julia’s. “Yes?” Her voice was subdued.
“My father remembered your boss—David Dunne from back then. There was a charge against him related to your aunt—an accusation, more accurately, of rape.”
Izzy cupped her hands over her mouth, and then she let them down slowly. “That’s why she blacked out his face,” she said in a daze. “He… he raped her.”
“Well, not according to the law,” said Baker. “You see, my father actually interviewed your aunt. He said she gave a very credible and emotional account. But then something happened, and the policecaptain told my father not to pursue it. He said Susie was a regretful teenager who’d willingly gone too far. My dad didn’t believe it, not for a second. But there wasn’t anything he could do, and the case was dropped.”
“Why are you telling me this?” asked Izzy.
“Because I want you to know that I believe my father’s instincts were accurate and that your aunt was telling the truth. I understand those times were different; women often weren’t believed and feared coming forward, but I happen to know there was also some corruption in the police department decades ago. It’s better now, but I have reason to believe your aunt’s case wasn’t handled appropriately. I don’t know why, but I intend to find out. I want you to know that I will seriously consider David as a suspect in both her disappearance and Fiona’s. I’m truly sorry your family hasn’t had closure or justice for your aunt, and I will do whatever I can to set things right.”
Chapter 40
Izzy
I promise myself I won’t cry.
I plan to hug the little rug rats and say my goodbyes, and that will be that. It’s not like I’ve been their caregiver since infancy, and suddenly we’re all done. I’ve known Brody and Becca for less than a week. And while it’s been quite an eventful number of days, I’ve been a temporary visitor, nothing more. I wasn’t present for their first steps, first teeth, first day of preschool, or any other important milestones. I’m barely a blip on the radar of their young lives.
And now, the time has come to go our separate ways. It’s as simple as that. And this should be a nonemotional farewell.
I recall Mary Poppins’s departure at the film’s end. She offered a nod full of steely resolve toward the Bankses’ home, then unfurled her ubiquitous black umbrella and, without a word to the children, set off for the skies.
She did cast Bert a knowing albeit wistful look, offering faint acknowledgment of their special bond, a subtle light dancing in her eyes. And with that, she was off to her next assignment.
This, I vow, will be me. I’m off to what’s next, with a quiet resolve and pleasant adieus.
I approach Brody and Becca, now with their mother Debbie, who has no idea I’ve conned my way into her children’s lives.
Debbie could be any random woman, as far as I’m concerned. She and I have had our one and only interaction for this lifetime. Our paths will never cross again.
“Thank you for everything,” says Debbie, addressing me in a neutral tone as she climbs into her Lexus. This woman oozes quiet luxury the way others do sweat. “The children spoke quite fondly of you.”
The children she referenced do not follow their mother into the car. Instead, they glue themselves to my legs. I’ve got one on each side, like little koalas clinging to a eucalyptus tree.
“Come with us,” Brody pleads. “We love you. We want you to stay with us forever.”
A small lump forms in my throat, nothing more. I remain in full control.
“Thank you, Brody,” I answer crisply. Still on the clock, I feel a duty to nanny him. “I need you to be very well-behaved for your mother,” I say. I intentionally leave David out. Brody can take scissors to his father’s wardrobe for all I care.
