Free Sins of the Mother by Victoria Christopher Murray Page B

honestly.”
    Behind them, in the dining room, the examiner, a member of the police department staff, was setting up the equipment. Detective Cohen was there at the request of Dale. “I want complete transparency—we need them to see how cooperative you are.”
    After the scene they’d walked in on, Jasmine was sure Dale regretted that invitation now.
    As they moved toward the dining room, Dale said, “Like I told you before, these tests are not one hundred percent accurate, but if you tell the truth . . .”
    Crossing her arms, she wondered why he kept talking about the truth. It wasn’t like she would lie.
    She knew where his words came from, though. Dale Brody was a long-time friend of Reverend Bush, and he probably knew every single one of her transgressions, knew every lie she’d ever told.
    But that was her past.
    Looking over the rims of his spectacles, the examiner nodded at Dale.
    “I’ll go first.” Jasmine marched toward the man with nothing but confidence. She sat, banged her arm down on the table, and stared straight ahead. She focused on the floor-to-ceiling windows that framed the fireplace. And then her eyes moved to the mantel as the examiner attached sensors to her skin.
    The man began, “Is your name Jasmine Bush?”
    The framed photos on the fireplace were in her sight; the pictorial history that told the story of the Bushes and their wonderful life. “Yes,” she said evenly.
    “Do you live in New York City?”
    Now she looked at the picture of Jacqueline alone—her daughter with her bright smile, with her legs crossed, with her hands folded right above her knees.
    “Yes,” Jasmine responded again.
    “Are you forty-five years old?”
    Her eyes got bigger, for just a moment. Jasmine wanted to raise her hand and ask if she could have another question. Not that she was going to lie, but she had lied so much about her age, she wasn’t completely sure of the real number. She did a quick calculation. “Yes,” she answered, and hoped that was the truth.
    “Were you in the bathroom when your daughter disappeared?” “Did you have anything to do with Jacqueline’s disappearance?” “Do you know where Jacqueline is today?”
    That last question made her close her eyes, and inside the blackness, behind her lids, images formed—of an unfamiliar man with her child.
    “No,” she answered as calmly as she could, just like she’d done with the other questions. It didn’t do any good to be offended.
    “Thank you, Mrs. Bush,” the examiner said, sooner than she expected.
    She looked up, and both Hosea and Dale were smiling, looking like they were about to clap—as if she’d done something major. All she’d done was tell the truth, but to them maybe that was special.
    It was Hosea’s turn. Just like with her questions, the time passed quickly. Could the examiner really determine their innocence that fast?
    When Hosea stood, she hugged him as Dale and Detective Cohen chatted. Then a cell phone rang, and the officer excused himself.
    “Well, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” Dale asked.
    But before Jasmine could tell him that of course it hadn’t been bad for him, Detective Cohen said into his phone, “Okay, I’ll let them know.”
    She broke away from Hosea’s embrace and searched the detective’s face. “Was that call about Jacquie?”
    The detective hooked his phone back into its holster and nodded. “Yup, that was one of the FBI agents assigned to the case. We’ve made contact with Doctor Brian Lewis.”
    “Brian!” Jasmine exclaimed. “Brian has Jacqueline!”
    Her head was spinning with questions. But even though she had no answers, she was drenched with relief. If Brian had Jacqueline, then her daughter was safe. He would never harm her.
    “Thank God you’ve found her,” she cried. “When can I see my daughter!”

Eighteen
    L OS A NGELES , C ALIFORNIA
    A FEW WEEKS EARLIER , N OVEMBER 2009
    B RIAN STARED AT HIS A MERICAN Express bill. Eight hundred dollars—not bad