Keep Her Safe

by Sophie Hannah

  “Have you done 322 and 323 yet?” she asked the maid.

  “No, ma’am.”

  “Good. Okay. I’m gonna need that vacuum cleaner and the bag of trash in your hand. Then get the hell out of here. No more cleaning any rooms on this floor until I personally tell you otherwise, you hear me?”

  The maid nodded frantically.

  “Apart from 325, which you can clean as usual,” Tarin added, thinking of the toothpaste she’d accidentally squirted all over the basin that morning.

  “I do 325 already.”

  “Fantastic. In that case . . . thank you and good-bye.”

  Once the maid was gone, Tarin handed the vacuum cleaner to Patrick and said, “Get the bag out. Take it back to your room and hide it somewhere. And if you tell me you don’t know how to remove a vacuum cleaner bag, I’ll knock your head off.” She started to rummage in the trash bag.

  “I know how to do it. Tarin, I don’t like this. I really, really don’t like it. We just impersonated police officers.”

  “Yeah. I noticed you giving your all to the role. Ever considered a stage career?” She looked up at him. “I know you don’t like it, Patrick. I hoped I’d made it clear that I give zero fucks for what you like and dislike right now. I need you to send that message to yourself from Cara. Soon. Like, now. And once you’ve—” She broke off suddenly.

  “What is it?” Patrick asked. “Have you found something in the rubbish?”

  “No. Good-bye, Patrick.” Tarin’s hand shook, as if the piece of paper she’d just pulled out of the bag was too heavy to hold.

  “Is that dried blood on the edge of that page? What have you found? Tell me!”

  Tarin folded the paper and put it in her pocket. “If you want me to trust you, do what I’ve asked you to do.”

  “Tarin, you and I are on the same side here.”

  “You might say that, but how do I know it’s true?” she said matter-of-factly. “How, for instance, do I know that the person who abducted Cara and maybe hurt her—maybe killed her—isn’t you?”

  I can’t decide what I want more: to be safe forever, or to be me forever. The Kind Smiles say I have to choose, and that having both together is impossible. I know they’re right. As long as I have this face, there’s a chance I’ll be recognized. Some people change a lot between the ages of seven and fourteen, but I haven’t. I’m still recognizably me. And, as if my face weren’t dangerous enough, there’s also the chocolate button on my head—that’s what the Kind Smiles call it. Not many girls look exactly like Melody Chapa and also have a brown circle of skin at the top of their foreheads, sticking out of their hair.

  The Kind Smiles say that, in the end, it’s up to me. It has to be my choice and decision. In spite of all they’ve done for me, the lengths they’ve gone to for my safety, they wouldn’t force me. I’m going to have to force myself, because I can’t let them down now. We all know what the sensible choice is, and they’ve risked everything for my sake. If that means I have to let a doctor cut my face with a knife, I’ll have to do it. I will do it. If there’s one thing I’m better at than anyone else in the world, it’s switching off my feelings and doing whatever I have to do to make others feel better.

  I’m not scared of ending up uglier than I am now. Poggy is ugly, but that doesn’t stop me from loving him. And I know that in most people’s eyes my mother is beautiful and my father is handsome, and I don’t want to be anything like them.

  FROM JUSTICE WITH BONNIE

  October 13, 2017

  THREE POSSIBLE SIGHTINGS OF MELODY CHAPA, ALIVE, AT ARIZONA HOLIDAY RESORT—WAS SHE MURDERED IN 2010 OR NOT?

  DO YOU KNOW ROBERT AND HOPE KATZ? CALL OUR HOTLINE!

  BONNIE JUNO: Good evening, and welcome to tonight’s episode of Justice with Bonnie. Now, as a result of some simply extraordinary events that are unfolding in Arizona in relation to the Melody Chapa case, we’re broadcasting live tonight from the five-star Swallowtail Resort and Spa in Paradise Valley. Behind me is the resort’s multimillion-dollar spa building, and I’m joined by Detective Bryce Sanders. Detective Sanders, what in heaven’s name has been happening here?

  BRYCE SANDERS: Well, Bonnie, it seems that three guests claim to have seen Melody Chapa alive, here at Swallowtail, since Tuesday, October 10. One of those guests, a British tourist from Hertford in England, has since disappeared.

  BONNIE JUNO: This is surprising news, to say the least! As far as the American legal system knows, poor little Melody Chapa was murdered in March 2010. Her parents, Annette and Naldo Chapa, are serving life sentences for her murder. Which means on the face of it . . . these three guests must be crazy, right? I mean, what other explanation could there be? Dane Williamson, you’re the resort manager, so tell me—are you putting something in the food that’s affecting your guests’ eyesight?

  DANE WILLIAMSON: Ha ha. No, Bonnie, I can assure you we’re doing no such thing. We’re continuing to serve delicious food here at Swallowtail, created by one of America’s—

  BONNIE JUNO: Tell us about these three guests and what they say they saw.

  DANE WILLIAMSON: Well, the first was Mrs. Lilith McNair, a regular guest here. She claims to have seen Melody Chapa leaving the resort in the middle of the night. The second guest to see Melody was Mrs. Cara Burrows.

  BONNIE JUNO: The British woman who’s currently missing, right? Wife and mom, expecting her third baby?

  DANE WILLIAMSON: Yes, indeed. Mrs. Burrows hasn’t checked out, and she was supposed to be staying awhile longer, but at present her whereabouts are unknown. The third Swallowtail guest to see Melody was Mrs. Tarin Fry from Lawrence, Kansas.

  BONNIE JUNO: Right, and we’ll be joined by Mrs. Fry in a moment, but first let’s go now to our very own Heidi Casafina, who’s inside the hotel. And for those of you who think that means she’s close to where I’m standing now, let me tell you, this resort is enormous. Heidi, you’re on the third floor of the main hotel building, standing in the corridor by the elevators—tell us why.

  HEIDI CASAFINA: Well, Bonnie, this is where a really quite bizarre story began for Cara Burrows from Hertford, England—and we can only hope and pray that it ends with her being found very soon, safe and well. Mrs. Burrows arrived at the resort late at night on October 9, and was sent by a possibly overtired receptionist to a room that was already occupied. She walked in and, in doing so, woke the room’s inhabitants, who, according to Mrs. Burrows, were a man of around forty or forty-five and a teenage girl. She later told people at the resort that she was sure the girl was Melody Chapa.

  BONNIE JUNO: So, Heidi, which room was this? Can you show us?

  HEIDI CASAFINA: Great question, Bonnie—and one with a confusing answer. So, I am near the room Cara Burrows was sent to in error, but I can’t tell you which one it is, because Cara didn’t remember the room number. According to those who spoke to her last, she remembers clearly that she took the elevator up to the third floor, and that she came out of the elevator, turned sharp left . . . and there was the door to the room she went into. Bonnie, if you watch me now, you’ll see why this is a problem—because look, there are two sets of elevators, directly opposite each other.

  BONNIE JUNO: Which means two ways to turn sharp left, depending on whether you step out of those elevators or those ones. What we’re now seeing—you all can see it as clearly as I can—is Heidi’s demonstration of the possible directions Cara Burrows might have taken. So, Heidi, you’ve just taken one of the two sharp left turns—oh, my, look what’s in front of you!

  HEIDI CASAFINA: Exactly, Bonnie. Two doors. Rooms 322 and 323. And now, look, if I scoot over here and do this sharp left turn instead . . .

  BONNIE JUNO: The same thing: two doors. Rooms 324 and 325. So, Heidi, it seems that the room Cara Burrows was sent to by mistake could have been any one of four, correct?

  HEIDI CASAFINA: That’s true, Bonnie. Although I believe room 325 is occupied by one of the other two women claiming to have seen Melody: Tarin Fry.

  BONN
IE JUNO: Thank you, Heidi. We’ll rejoin you shortly, but just let’s go back to Detective Bryce Sanders for a second. Detective Sanders, what have you found out so far about these four rooms?

  BRYCE SANDERS: As Heidi just told you, 325 is Tarin Fry and her daughter. Long story short, Bonnie, three of the four rooms are assigned to guests we’ve located and spoken to—that includes Tarin Fry. The fourth room appears to be assigned to a “Robert and Hope Katz,” but we’ve been unable to find them at this point.

  BONNIE JUNO: And I believe there’s a number on the screen for our viewers to call if they know of a Robert and Hope Katz. But I’m keeping an open mind about that, because it’s all too easy to assume Robert and Hope Katz and room 324 are where we ought to be focusing our suspicions. So let’s talk about the guests in 322 and 323 for a second. In 322 we have a young couple. I won’t say their names and compromise their privacy. Oh—and Robert and Hope Katz, if you’re real, innocent, law-abiding citizens, I apologize for compromising yours, but finding you is more important right now. So, Detective Sanders, this young couple in 322. They are, I believe, a veterinary surgeon and a construction worker, respectively, both from Tennessee. Then in 323 there’s a businesswoman, in telecom marketing. Detective, have these three people been interviewed yet?

  BRYCE SANDERS: I’ve spoken to them all personally, yes. I’m satisfied they’re on the level and have nothing to hide.

  BONNIE JUNO: That makes me wonder how easily satisfied you are, Detective. Maybe I’ll talk to them myself later. Back to Heidi on the third floor. Heidi, what happened when Cara Burrows let herself into whichever room it was? She woke the man and the girl and . . . then what?

  HEIDI CASAFINA: I’m told she went straight into the bathroom, Bonnie, and saw that it was full of another guest’s possessions: bathing suits, razors, rubber swim cap, hair accessories. Then she heard voices that let her know she wasn’t alone. She heard a girl’s voice say, “I spilled Coke on Poggy,” and then a man and a girl appeared in the doorway of the bathroom. The girl was around thirteen or fourteen, Mrs. Burrows estimated, and she was rubbing her head—right here—and continued to do so for as long as Mrs. Burrows could see her.

  BONNIE JUNO: So, the very spot where poor little Melody had a distinguishing mark?

  HEIDI CASAFINA: The exact spot, yes. The girl was holding a stuffed animal in her hand, according to what Cara Burrows told people later, and she described that animal as being not quite a pig and not quite a dog, but a little like both. And looking stained with Coke or some other dark liquid. But, as Cara Burrows is missing, we only have this secondhand.

  BONNIE JUNO: Sounds like Poggy to me, Heidi—but then, anyone could do some research and then describe the most famous stuffed animal in America. So, I take it Mrs. Burrows was embarrassed, made her excuses and left the room immediately?

  HEIDI CASAFINA: Apparently so. And now, as we know, she’s missing. Bonnie, it’s also worth mentioning that Cara Burrows had apparently never heard of Melody Chapa and knew nothing about the case until she heard Lilith McNair talking about having seen Melody. Later Mrs. Burrows decided she’d seen the same person, and she found out only then who Melody was.

  BONNIE JUNO: Thank you, Heidi. Mrs. Lilith McNair, who also claimed she saw Melody, has sadly declared herself unwilling to speak to us. Dane Williamson, resort manager: I guess not everyone cares all that much about a murdered little girl and a missing British mom?

  DANE WILLIAMSON: Don’t be too hard on Mrs. McNair, Bonnie. She—

  BONNIE JUNO: —spends a lot of money at your resort?

  DANE WILLIAMSON: I was going to say that she can get a little confused sometimes. She’s claimed in the past that several other children were Melody Chapa—including one who was a boy.

  BONNIE JUNO: Oh, Lord! So one of the three guests who allegedly saw Melody has an excess of imagination. Another is Lord-alone-knows-where, and so can’t tell us a damn thing, and the third is in room 325—one of the rooms under suspicion. I hate to sound like a conspiracy theorist, but this smells way off to me. I should say at this point that I still believe Melody Chapa was murdered by her parents. My view hasn’t changed—yet. But if I’m wrong and Melody’s alive, we need to find out. So I’m going to make a direct appeal. Cara, sweetheart, you don’t know me, but believe me, I care about your safety and the safety of your precious baby. Come back, please, if you can. Get in contact—with this show, with the police, with your husband. Detective Sanders, what’s your theory about Cara’s present whereabouts?

  BRYCE SANDERS: Bonnie, we know that Mrs. Burrows didn’t take her rental car. At this stage, we believe she’s probably still somewhere at Swallowtail.

  BONNIE JUNO: Then get out there and find her, Detective. Let’s talk now to the third guest at Swallowtail who claims she saw Melody: Tarin Fry from Lawrence, Kansas. Mrs. Fry—

  TARIN FRY: Call me Tarin.

  BONNIE JUNO: All right, Tarin. Tell us what you saw. And when.

  TARIN FRY: I saw a teenage girl with long, dark hair. I didn’t notice if she had a brown mark near her hairline, I’m afraid. She was walking past the tennis courts. I was in a club car going in the opposite direction. She was holding in her hand a knitted toy that, yeah, looked like a cross between a pig and a dog. I knew what Mrs. McNair had said she saw, and also what Cara had told me—we’d spent some time together and she’d told me, so what I mainly thought when I saw the girl was, “She could very well be the same girl Cara saw and Mrs. McNair saw.” Then later I googled some of the more fanatical Melody Chapa conspiracy sites, and I found sketches of what Melody would look like at various ages. You know, they take a photo of Melody at seven and use some kind of software . . . Anyway, that’s when my blood ran a little cold and I thought to myself, “That’s her face. That’s the girl I saw.”

  BONNIE JUNO: Fascinating. And when did you see this girl?

  TARIN FRY: Yesterday. Eight thirty, eight forty in the morning, approximately.

  BONNIE JUNO: So after Cara Burrows had disappeared. Let me ask you something: Is it possible you saw a dark-haired teen holding something and you convinced yourself it was Melody with Poggy?

  TARIN FRY: Why would I want to convince myself? I don’t stand to gain or lose either way.

  BONNIE JUNO: I’m not saying you’d want to—only that if you believed Cara Burrows and Lilith McNair—

  TARIN FRY: I did believe them. Long before they saw her, or I saw her, I believed she was very likely still alive. Her body was never found. Now we know why. We also know that strands of Melody’s hair were found in 2010 that showed evidence of arsenic poisoning, and blood was found, and blowflies . . . Sounds like someone went to a lot of trouble to fake her murder. If I were you, Bonnie, I’d be asking: Who’d want to pretend a little girl was dead if she wasn’t? And why?

  BONNIE JUNO: I feel like I ought to be offering you a job on our show, Tarin.

  TARIN FRY: No, thank you. Why aren’t the FBI here yet? Has anyone called them?

  BONNIE JUNO: Thank you for your insights, Tarin. Now, we’ve found that online picture of Melody aged—

  TARIN FRY: Wait a second. I’m not done yet.

  BONNIE JUNO: Hey, Tarin? This is my show. When you have a legal show of your own—

  TARIN FRY: Cara’s not the only one who’s disappeared. Riyonna Briggs, the receptionist who sent her to the wrong room her first night here—she’s missing too. I’m certain someone’s taken them both. Cara found a piece of paper in the spa with “Cara Burrows—is she safe?” written on it. Why aren’t you mentioning that? Also, what about the credit card Robert and Hope Katz used to reserve their room—has that been traced? If not, why not?

  BONNIE JUNO: Whoa—slow down, lady. I’ve heard nothing yet about the Katz credit card—but that’s a very good question, and I’ll ask Detective Sanders in a moment. Now, before you get too carried away, Tarin . . . Riyonna Briggs is not missing. She left work suddenly after her boss criticized her. She left his office in tears and at speed, and she’s probably
at home licking her wounds.

  TARIN FRY: I don’t think she—

  BONNIE JUNO: Thank you, Tarin Fry. What a character, ladies and gentlemen! Didn’t you love her? We’ll be back with you after a short break, so stay tuned.

  12

  October 14, 2017

  The sound of jangling keys wakes me with a start. For a fraction of a second, I’m in my bed at home with Patrick snoring next to me and the ceiling shaking as the kids stomp around on the floor above, getting ready for school. Another ordinary day . . .

  Then it hits me: where I am, where I’m not, where I might never be again.

  Another day in this nightmare. Another morning in hell.

  By the time the trailer door opens, my mind has plunged through every feeling I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy.

  Except my abductor. I’d wish all bad things on him. He’s the first worst enemy I’ve ever had.

  I don’t blame him less because none of this was his idea. I blame him more.

  This morning he has a tray in his hand.

  “I got you another sausage and bacon sandwich. Made sure the bacon was crispy. And coffee, and juice. Pink grapefruit this time, for a change. You like grapefruit? Cara? You okay?”

  I don’t answer. What’s the point?

  He puts the tray down on the kitchen counter. I wait for him to start his usual routine: take the gun out of the drawer, then come over and untie me. Instead he turns and starts walking back to the door.

  Is he leaving? How can I eat or drink if he doesn’t untie me? “Wait!” I say.

  “Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere. I’m getting something else. Can’t carry everything in all at once.”

  I close my eyes and swallow hard as I try to imagine what something else might be. Another weapon? A knife?

  When he returns, he’s holding a thick pile of papers and a smaller, flat object with a pattern of hexagons on it, like patchwork—green with white dots on one patch, solid pink on another . . .

  As he comes closer, I see that the papers aren’t loose but bound. Though not properly, not with a spine like a book. See-through plastic covers . . .