The Broken Ones

by Ren Richards

  ‘Well, that happened,’ Lindsay said.

  Nell didn’t let herself look at the car for a second longer. She was afraid that if she did, her mind would go back to that night, and she would only drive herself crazy with all of her unanswered questions. Instead, she turned to her sister. ‘I need a ride.’

  It was more than a thirty-minute drive to the Hamblin family’s brownstone, and to Lindsay’s credit, she didn’t utter one word of protest even though she hated that Nell was still researching their story.

  ‘It’s this one on the left,’ Nell said, as Lindsay cruised between rows of slender trees in boxes on the sidewalks.

  ‘Brownstone,’ Lindsay echoed. ‘Nice. The Hamblins make bank.’

  ‘They’re both retired now,’ Nell said. ‘But Mrs Hamblin was a tenured professor at Juilliard and Mr Hamblin was a private attorney, specialising in medical malpractice.’

  ‘You’ve done your research,’ Lindsay said.

  ‘I’ve been trying to establish what the twins’ childhood was like.’

  ‘Fancier than ours,’ Lindsay said, gesturing to the brownstone after she’d thrown the car in park. ‘How long are you going to be?’

  ‘I can text you when I’m done,’ Nell said. ‘I have some questions for Mrs Hamblin. I was afraid that if I called to set up a time, she would blow me off. It took a dozen attempts just to get her to meet with me the first time.’

  ‘It’s cool, I’ll wait here,’ Lindsay said.

  Nell paused, her hand on the door. ‘You’re afraid to leave me alone.’

  Lindsay stared at her. ‘Okay, fine, yes,’ she admitted. ‘I don’t want to find you wandering down Main Street in your underwear.’

  Nell rolled her eyes. ‘I’m feeling much better.’ It wasn’t entirely true, but she hoped it would put her sister more at ease.

  Lindsay waved her off with a theatrical flick of her hand. Sunlight gleamed off her red manicured nails. ‘Go do your thing. There’s a flask in my glove compartment if I get bored.’ Her plaintive stare said that she was kidding.

  Nell made her way up the sidewalk. There was a page in her manuscript that had been blank all week, and only the mother of Easter and Autumn could possibly fill in the gaps.

  The doorknob turned even before Nell could knock.

  She had seen Mr Hamblin in newspaper articles and on television. In her research, she’d even found old law firm commercials from the early 2000s on YouTube. But now as he stood before her in his doorway, he looked taller. His skin was ashen, almost as grey as his neatly combed hair. Even in retirement, he was sharply dressed in a white button-up shirt and twill pants, and he smelled of cologne. It was a smell Nell recognised lingering in the living room when she’d interviewed his wife.

  Nell put out her hand. ‘Mr Hamblin? I’m Nell Way—’

  He had thick, dark eyebrows, and in that moment they accented the fury on his face.

  ‘You have some gall showing up at my home,’ he said.

  Nell steeled herself. Grief often turned to anger, and she had seen this reaction many times before.

  ‘Mr Hamblin, I’m here because I—’

  ‘I don’t care why you’re here.’ His voice was a growl. ‘You’ve undone months – months – of progress my wife had been making. Do you know what it was like, being under the constant scrutiny of every reporter in the state of New York? The horrible things they said about us?’

  Nell didn’t respond.

  ‘Things had finally settled down. The letters had stopped. Everything had stopped.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Nell said, realising a second later that it was probably going to make matters worse.

  ‘Last night,’ Mr Hamblin began, shaking for all his fury, ‘we were woken up by the floodlight in the back yard. When I went down to investigate, I found what looked like a body floating in our pool. It was two shop mannequins someone had melted together to look like my daughters before their surgery.’

  He looked as though he might reach out and strangle her, or burst into tears. Nell couldn’t tell which. She took a step back.

  ‘Mr Hamblin, I—’

  She didn’t know how to finish that sentence. But it didn’t matter. He slammed the door before she could make another sound.

  26

  THEN

  Nell woke from a fitful half-sleep. Ethan was crawling into the bed beside her. It was dark, and she could just make out the outline of his messy black hair, damp from a recent shower. He smelled like body wash and clean laundry. And suddenly, Nell wanted to lose herself in that smell, because it reminded her of newness, as though it had the power to erase everything they’d gone through together.

  The truth was that Reina was the only thing keeping them together. They’d conceived her on the night they met, and by morning, their fates were sealed. Nell went back to her group foster home. Ethan went back to his six-figure-a-year private school, both of them expecting to only see each other at parties, or maybe never again.

  But instead, they were here, living in separate bedrooms on opposite sides of the hallway that also housed Reina’s nursery. And even though Reina was gone, here they both were. Tethered together like astronauts floating in space.

  ‘Hey,’ Nell whispered. She rolled over to face him, and found herself slipping perfectly into his arms. She wanted to ask what he was doing in her room, but the words didn’t come.

  He swept the hair back from her face, and she eased onto her back. He bowed his head and pressed his lips to hers in a gesture too light to be considered a kiss. It had been nearly a year since they’d done even this much, but it unlocked something in each of them. His next kiss was forceful and desperate, and Nell gasped, coaxing him on.

  The door was slightly ajar, letting in a sliver of light from the hallway, but neither of them moved to close it. The house was silent. They were silent.

  When he moved inside of her, it woke her from the haze that had ensnared her since that day at the grocery store. No – that had ensnared her since the day Reina was born and everything changed. This is the way being a teenager was supposed to feel, she thought. Forget yesterday, forget tomorrow. Forget the reporters and the grief and the aching in her bones. Forget everything but this moment, which Nell believed could last forever if she held on tightly enough.

  The only sound was the mattress hitting against the headboard and the rustle of sheets. When he was through, Ethan collapsed onto her chest, all of his weight crashing back down to earth. He buried his face in the hollow of her neck, still inside of her, and sobbed.

  It was the first time he’d broken down since it happened. His skin was clammy and warm, and he let out the most piteous wail against her skin.

  ‘It’s my fault,’ he gasped between sobs. ‘I wasn’t there to protect her.’

  She ran her fingers through his hair, rubbed circles on his back and shushed him. Their little moment was over. Gone. Just like everything else that had ever been good in their lives.

  They fell asleep clinging to each other, and in the morning they were both awoken by Mrs Eddleton’s loud knock on the door. It was as though she knew what they had done the night before and wanted to punish them for it.

  Nell winced at the light burning in through the windows.

  ‘Penelope, the police are here to speak with you,’ Mrs Eddleton said. ‘Get dressed.’

  ‘Just Penny? Not me too?’ Ethan asked groggily, but his mother was already gone. They could hear her heels slapping on the marble stairs.

  Two officers were waiting in the foyer when Nell descended the staircase in a long-sleeved t-shirt and jeans, accompanied by Ethan.

  ‘Good morning, Penelope,’ one of the officers said. ‘We have a few things we’d like to go over with you, if you wouldn’t mind coming down to the station with us.’

  ‘She’ll be happy to,’ Mrs Eddleton said. Grief had made Mrs Eddleton more focused and ferocious than ever. Every waking second, she was contacting the press and heading search parties. Her current project was a
candlelight vigil, scheduled for that evening, which the mayor would attend. The mayor meant press, and press meant more news coverage, and news coverage meant Reina’s photograph in more living rooms for the evening news.

  In the shadow of Mrs Eddleton’s efforts, Nell felt more useless and incompetent as a mother than Reina had ever made her feel. She felt the full weight of how small and helpless she was.

  Nell tugged at her sleeves. ‘All right.’

  ‘Can I go with her?’ Ethan asked.

  ‘We need you here,’ Mrs Eddleton said, gathering him under her arm like a mother hen shielding her chick. ‘She’ll be back in a little while.’

  Nell rode in the back of the police cruiser. The ride was mostly silent, except for when one of the officers glanced back at her from the other side of the metal mesh and asked her, ‘Have you ever ridden in a police car before?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said.

  In the interrogation room, Nell was offered a cup of coffee or something from the vending machine, but she refused.

  ‘Are you sure?’ the officer asked. ‘You look uncomfortable.’

  Nell was the most uncomfortable she could ever remember being. More uncomfortable than being squished against Lindsay in the bottom bunk like sardines. More uncomfortable than the prison pat-downs when they visited their mother.

  The room was cold and she tugged her sleeves over her knuckles. She hadn’t cleaned herself up the night before, and she’d been in such a rush to get downstairs this morning that she hadn’t even gone to the bathroom. Now she had to pee. And she could still feel the remnants of last night inside of her, dampening the inseam of her jeans.

  She crossed her legs. She was going to get a urinary tract infection, she was sure of it. But worse, what if she was pregnant? Her sex life had been so nonexistent that she often forgot to take her pill.

  If she and Ethan made another child, would it be like Reina? Would it hate her too?

  ‘Penelope?’

  ‘I’m fine.’ Her voice was soft. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Fair enough.’ The officer slid his laptop across the table, turning the screen so that it faced her. ‘We’ve obtained security camera footage of the grocery store from the afternoon your daughter went missing. We should have accessed it sooner, but there were technical issues. But we have it now. I’d like you to take a look.’

  He tapped the space bar and the footage began to play. There were four squares, presenting the store from multiple angles. One of the screens showed Nell getting out of her car in the parking lot. She already knew what she was going to see, but she watched anyway.

  Nell exited the car and entered the store alone. Reina wasn’t there. The car seat, visible through the back window, was empty.

  Nell sat in the interrogation room and watched the small, sharply detailed image of herself enter the store and stand beside the shopping carts, staring at her shoes. Her shoulders rose in sharp, rapid breaths. In the video, she was hyperventilating and trembling, already in tears.

  Finally she made her way down one of the aisles and screamed. She had lied about everything else that day, but the scream had been real.

  The officer slid the laptop aside, so that he and Nell were once again facing each other. ‘I want to help you, Penelope, and I can help you if you’re honest with me,’ he said. ‘Where is your daughter?’

  For the first time all morning, Nell met his eyes.

  ‘I’d like to call my attorney,’ she said.

  27

  NOW

  Oleg seemed relieved when he entered the diner and locked eyes with Nell. She’d called an hour earlier and asked him to meet her for a working lunch. She’d chosen a small, crowded diner downtown because it was walking distance from her apartment.

  ‘Hey,’ he said, sliding into the seat across from her. ‘I’m so glad to hear from you. I was worried, but I didn’t want to call. I thought you might be avoiding me.’

  ‘It was nothing like that,’ Nell assured him. ‘If anything, I owe you an apology for what I said about your sisters in the car that morning.’

  He flashed her his easy smile. ‘You’ve already apologised.’

  ‘A hundred more times should do it,’ Nell said. ‘It was completely unprofessional of me. So was calling you to come get me. I think I was in shock, but that’s no excuse.’

  ‘I’m glad you called me,’ he said. ‘It’s nice to be needed.’ He raised an eyebrow. ‘Is that strange of me to say? Since my parents died, I get this feeling like I’m not useful. I have nobody to take care of. Even when I came to visit my sisters, they only seemed to need each other.’

  ‘I’m sure they were glad to have you,’ Nell said.

  ‘Autumn was very active,’ he said. ‘Even though she knew I was only visiting for a week or two, she’d spend half of that time off doing her own thing. She let her phone die constantly. It made Easter furious, not being able to reach her.’

  ‘Really?’ Nell rested her chin on her fist. ‘Where would Autumn go?’

  ‘Off with friends, I assume,’ Oleg said. ‘She didn’t bring them by the apartment. I think she was embarrassed by Easter.’

  His gaze got distant, and Nell suspected there was something he wouldn’t tell her. He remained loyal to his sisters even after Autumn’s death and even with all Easter had done.

  ‘I’m grateful for the time I did spend with them,’ Oleg finally said. ‘I’ll always torture myself wondering if I could have done more for them, but they were so impenetrable. They wouldn’t allow themselves to accept help. They barely accepted love.’

  Nell offered him a smile, though from where she sat, that smile felt haggard and weak. ‘You have the burden of being the eldest sibling,’ she said. ‘My older sister always likes to feel needed too.’

  ‘I didn’t know you have a sister,’ Oleg said.

  Nell shrugged, taking a sip of her coffee. She nodded to the waitress to bring a cup for Oleg. ‘I don’t usually tell my interviewees about my life,’ she said. ‘It’s not relevant, and they never ask.’

  ‘It’s relevant to me,’ Oleg said. He rested his chin on his fist and stared contemplatively at her. ‘I know where you attended college, and that you dropped out when you sold your first book. I know that you get your inspiration from mid-century poetry, and it shows in your writing.’

  Nell laughed, a warm flush spreading across her cheeks and behind her ears. ‘Someone’s been reading my book jacket.’

  His smile had adopted a wistful, almost sleepy quality. ‘And I know that you entertain every possible theory,’ he went on, inching out of the way as the waitress poured his coffee. ‘Even if that theory is absolutely impossible.’

  He was referring to her theory about Autumn, Nell knew. She cleared her throat, forcing herself out of the trance his observations evoked.

  ‘I wanted to talk to you about the Hamblins.’

  Oleg’s sober expression made her feel guilty. ‘The mannequins in the pool,’ he said.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘That was a new one,’ Oleg said. ‘When the story was first on the news, someone threw a rock through their window. There was red paint on the car. Phone calls, letters. Russia halted adoptions to American families after there were allegations that Iskra and Klavdiya had been abused by their adoptive parents.’

  ‘Were there any direct threats?’ Nell asked.

  ‘Some,’ Oleg said. ‘Things have been mostly quiet since the trial. People find something new to be angry about.’

  ‘But the fact that I’m writing a book might have brought it all back,’ Nell said. It wasn’t a question. Even though there had been no formal press release or even a sale yet, rumours spread like wildfire in book club message boards. Someone had apparently spotted Nell at the penitentiary. The same penitentiary that was housing one of the country’s most famous murderers.

  ‘Mom Esther told me that Mr Hamblin chased you away when you came around for an interview,’ Oleg said. ‘But she’s glad you’re writing the book. I am too.
The world needs to hear their story. Now that Autumn is gone and Easter will never be free again, their story is that much more important.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear you say that,’ Nell said. ‘I feel the same way.’

  Oleg was smiling again. ‘If we’re going to talk about my sisters, we’ll be here a while,’ he said, and raised a finger to get the waitress’s attention. ‘May as well order some food.’

  His kind, honest quality made Nell want to be honest with him. She wanted to tell him about her childhood in foster care, and how unwanted she had felt, and that was part of what had drawn her to the twins’ story. She wanted to tell him about her past, which Easter had uncovered in the newspaper archives of the prison library. She wanted to tell him all the things she had done, and see if he still liked her then. But perhaps Easter had already told him? No, surely he would have brought it up. It was too awful a thing to remain unspoken.

  Three hours into their interview, Oleg told a story that made Nell laugh so hard, the group of teenagers two booths over all turned to look at her. Nell cupped a hand over her mouth. ‘She really threw your clothes out into the street? My God, that’s so theatrical.’

  They were no longer talking about the twins, and Oleg had transitioned into a story about his own failures in love. ‘Galina was … spirited,’ he said, laughing before taking a swig of coffee.

  ‘She must have been mad as hell,’ Nell said.

  ‘I guess I have that effect on women,’ he said. ‘I make them mad as hell.’

  ‘I don’t get that impression,’ Nell said.

  He winked. ‘Trust me.’

  ‘Galina.’ Nell tried to say the name in the proper Russian accent and failed.

  ‘Gah-LEE-nah,’ Oleg said. ‘Say it through your bottom teeth.’

  Nell made another attempt, sticking her jaw out in an exaggerated fashion. Oleg laughed, which made her laugh harder.

  ‘You got it that time,’ he said.

  Nell noticed the darkening sky through the window. Alarmed, she grabbed her phone and checked the time.

  ‘Have somewhere to be?’ Oleg asked.

  ‘I need to get home before—’ she cut herself short. She had almost said ‘before Sebastian gets home’ but she stopped herself. She was usually so good at keeping her guard up when interviewing subjects, but something about Oleg put her at ease. ‘Before it gets dark,’ she said. ‘I have to walk home. I haven’t replaced my car.’