"All right, all right," Dru said tiredly. "I won't ask you any more. It's just that..." Dru fell suddenly silent.

"Dru?" Corinne prompted her.

"They're..." Dru was crying, unable to get the words out. Corinne knew how her little sister looked when she cried-her eyes scrunched up, her mouth open in an little inverted U-shape. It always broke her heart.

"Oh, Dru, honey, what?" It didn't matter what Dru was crying about; her own tears started in sympathy for her.

"I'm so scared, Cory," Dru managed to say. "They're building a huge case against Mom. I miss her so much, and she's going to be in prison forever. Maybe the rest of her life." Her voice caught on a sob.

Dru was right. The case against their mother was strong and getting stronger by the day. While Vivian's e-mails contained family trees bearing the names of relatives anxious to meet her, Russ's were serious and angry, filled with vitriol toward Eve and descriptions of evidence his attorney planned to use against her.

"I'm sorry," Dru said. "I know you probably feel she should should be there forever. I might feel the same way if I were you. But she's such a good person. CeeCee Wilkes deserves to be in jail, but Eve Elliott doesn't." be there forever. I might feel the same way if I were you. But she's such a good person. CeeCee Wilkes deserves to be in jail, but Eve Elliott doesn't."

Corinne swallowed her tears. "They're one and the same person, Dru," she said. "That's the problem."

The night of Dru's call, the WIGH news showed a tape of Eve limping from a police car into a building. There was resignation in her face, as though she knew she deserved whatever suffering she had to endure. Corinne was mesmerized by the footage, but Ken picked up the remote.

"We don't need to see this," he said.

She grabbed his hand. "No," she said. "I want to."

Her mother's wrists looked as swollen as Corinne had ever seen them. Thank G.o.d, the guards no longer had handcuffs on her. Eve held her hands close to her body, the way she did when she needed to protect them from b.u.mping into anything. A guard grabbed her arm to either help or hasten her up the steps into the building, and Corinne saw her mother flinch with pain. Someone else might not have noticed it, but Corinne had seen that quick alteration of her features too often to miss it.

The image played over and over again in her mind as she lay in bed that night. She would never sleep. Finally, at two in the morning, she shook Ken's shoulder.

He rolled over to look at her. "What's the matter?" He sat up quickly. "The baby?"

She had the sudden, horrible feeling that he would welcome a miscarriage. "No," she said. "I've decided I want to see my mother."

Ken groaned. "Your mother is dead," he said.

"Stop that," she said, annoyed. "You know who I'm talking about."

"Why in G.o.d's name do you want to see her? It's just going to make you feel more...conflicted about this whole mess."

"I guess I'm hoping it will make me feel less less conflicted." conflicted."

"It's a bad idea."

"I need to understand why she did what she did," she said. "I want to see her, Ken."

He sighed. "Be my guest."

"Will you take me tomorrow? It's Sat.u.r.day. I don't have to work."

"I told you I think it's a bad idea. How can you expect me to take you if I think it's wrong for you?"

"Because you love me," she said. "Because I want to go and you know I can't drive there alone."

Ken stared at the ceiling. "What do you plan to say to her?"

"I don't know. All I know is that I can't stand seeing those pictures of her on TV."

"Even felons can look like vulnerable human beings," Ken said. "Ted Bundy looked like the boy next door."

"She isn't Ted Bundy," she said, and to her own surprise, started to cry.

Ken reached over to pull her into his arms. He stroked her hair for a moment, then sighed. "Okay," he relented. "I'll take you tomorrow."

Chapter Sixty-One.

Neither she nor Ken said a word during the drive to the jail. He might have been angry with her or disappointed or simply tired. She didn't care. Her mind was on the visit that lay ahead of her. It had been four weeks since she'd seen her mother. The image of her limping from the police car into the building, flinching as the guard grabbed her arm, played repeatedly in her mind. She felt like crying, but she didn't want to cry. She didn't want to give her mother the gift of caring that much. She'd spent years hardening her heart to Eve Elliott. She needed to be tough with her today. All she wanted was information that would help her understand why everything had happened the way it did.

The guard at the jail wouldn't let her take her purse into the visiting area with her, so she left it in the car with Ken. He hadn't offered to go in with her, and that was just as well. She didn't want him there, even though she could feel her heart speeding up as she sat behind the Plexiglas part.i.tion, waiting, hands tightly folded in her lap.

Then she saw her. She was in a wheelchair, being pushed by a guard. She'd aged in the last month. She was only forty-three, but she looked a decade older. When she spotted Corinne, she tipped her head back to say something to the guard, who stopped pushing her. Then she stood up and limped over to the booth.

Mommy. The word rose in her throat and she choked it back. Eve smiled at her as she sat down, and Corinne saw some of the mother she'd always known in that smile. Eve nodded toward the phone as she picked up the receiver on her side. The word rose in her throat and she choked it back. Eve smiled at her as she sat down, and Corinne saw some of the mother she'd always known in that smile. Eve nodded toward the phone as she picked up the receiver on her side.

"I'm so happy to see you, Cory," she said.

"You look like you're in a lot of pain," Corinne said.

Her mother shrugged. "It's not too bad. I'll get my medication soon."

"I don't understand how they can keep it from you," Corinne said. "Isn't that cruel and unusual punishment?"

"Something with the paperwork." Her mother tucked a lock of her dark hair behind one ear. "I'm sure I'll be better once I get it. There's a little too much stress in my life at the moment. And I know there's been way too much in yours, too," she added. "Dru told me you've met Irving Russell and his daughter."

"I need to understand why you did what you did." Corinne didn't want to get caught up in a conversation about the Russells.

Her mother looked confused. "You mean why I turned myself in?"

"No, Mother. I mean why you kidnapped a woman and stole her baby. Stole me. me."

Her mother flexed her free hand, open, closed, open again. "From my adult perspective, it's even hard for me to understand," she said. "And I doubt I can make you understand. All I can do is tell you."

"Then tell me."

Her mother licked her lips, which looked dry and chapped. "I've thought a lot about it over the years," she said. "About why I let myself get involved in the whole mess." She studied her swollen knuckles. "I think the bottom line is that I wanted to be loved." She looked through the gla.s.s at Corinne. "You know I lost my mother when I was twelve and then spent time in foster homes, right?"

Corinne nodded. She'd known that once but had forgotten.

"My own mother was very loving and...just a wonderful mom," her mother said. "When she died, I felt lonely for someone who would love me the way she did. The one person who treasured me unconditionally was gone." She looked past Corinne's head as though she could see into the past. "When I graduated from high school at sixteen, I went to work as a waitress in a little coffee shop in Chapel Hill."

"In Chapel Hill?" Corinne asked. "When you brought me to school at Carolina, you said you'd never been there before."

"One of many lies I told to cover my tracks," her mother said. "So, I worked as a waitress. I'd never had a boyfriend and I was very...needy. I don't think I could have put it into words at the time, but I was desperate to have someone love me. Validate me."

Corinne tried to imagine what it would be like to move from twelve to sixteen feeling love from no one. That was one thing she'd been sure of: love. Sure enough of it that she could, at times, abuse it and know it would still be there for her.

"One day, Tim Gleason came into the coffee shop," her mother said. "He was twenty-two to my sixteen. He was attentive to me. He took me out and bought me things and was fun to be with. He told me he loved me. No one had said those three words to me since my mother." Her mother frowned. "I'm not making excuses for anything I did, Cory. I'm just trying to explain why I did it."

Corinne nodded. "Go on," she said.

"He made me feel beautiful and smart and...happy. I felt so happy. Shortly after I met him, I received a package containing five thousand dollars in cash."

"From him?" Corinne was confused.

"I'm sure it was, because his family was wealthy, but he would never tell me. Anyhow, that would have been plenty for me to go to Carolina and not have to work. He'd encouraged me to go and knew I was trying to save enough money to do that. So you can see that he was manipulating me in many different ways."

Corinne nodded.

"Then he started talking to me about his sister, Andie," her mother said. She told Corinne how Tim Gleason had lied to her about Andie's murder of the photographer. "He asked me if I could do a favor for him and his brother and warned me it would be dangerous. They wanted to save their sister the only way they could think of. First I said no, but I was so-"

"No to what?" Corinne cut her off. "What did he ask you to do, exactly? I don't understand."

"He asked me to help with the kidnapping of Governor Russell's wife. Not the actual kidnapping, but guarding her in that little cabin outside New Bern while he and Marty negotiated with Governor Russell."

"And you said yes?" Corinne couldn't picture anyone in her right mind agreeing to the scheme. But then, she wasn't sixteen years old and desperate for love, smitten by someone who seemed to adore her.

"I did. He made it sound neat and simple. I was weak then. I needed him and would do anything I could to please him. To keep him, I guess. I don't think I knew what I was getting into until they actually brought...Genevieve to the cabin and I realized she was not a character in a play but a real, live human being. And she was pregnant." Her mother looked into her eyes. "I'm so sorry, Cory," she said.

Corinne turned her head away from her, afraid she was going to cry. What more was there for either of them to say? She already knew the rest of the story. She wanted it to end differently. She wanted to change the unchangeable.

"Did you keep me to have someone to love you?" she asked after a moment.

Her mother bit her lip and looked down at the counter in front of her. "Not consciously," she said. "All I know is that I was desperate to keep you safe. Your mother said to me, 'Don't let her die,' and I-"

"She did?" Corinne asked. She felt soft inside, hearing the only words her biological mother may ever have spoken about her.

"Yes," her mother said. "When she knew she was dying...and I believe she knew it...she asked me not to let you die. I fell in love with you very quickly. I'd helped bring you into the world and survive your first few days of life. It gave me a huge emotional attachment to you. I was barely past the age of needing a teddy bear to cuddle with, and you were so much better than that." She smiled. "It's hard to describe how desperately I needed to keep you safe. I wanted to be with you every single moment to make sure you were still breathing. I stayed awake all night sometimes to make sure you were. You were so many things to me. You were the most important and most priceless thing in my world. And you were my responsibility. I owed it to your mother to keep you safe. I know I went overboard, honey. I know I created fears in you and I'm so sorry for that. Maybe you needed to cut yourself off from me to make your own path. Maybe that was the right thing for you to do, no matter how hard it's been for me."

"Why didn't the guy-Timothy Gleason-tell the police about you? Why did he protect you?"

"I don't know. Maybe he developed a conscience somewhere along the line and knew he'd been wrong for involving me in the first place. I just don't know."

"You could have stayed quiet," Corinne said. "You didn't need to admit to anything."

"I had to," her mother said simply.

"But, Mom," Corinne said, "how will you survive this? You can't go to prison. You're sick. They won't give you your medication."

"I'm all right, honey. I'll get my meds and I'll be okay." Her mother paused for a moment. "Tell me what's going on with you, you," she asked.

Corinne couldn't shift gears that quickly. She looked down at the counter, uncertain what to say.

"You mean besides learning I'm not who I thought I was?" she asked.

Her mother gave her a rueful smile. "I guess there isn't much room for anything else, is there," she acknowledged.

"Well, actually, there is," Corinne said suddenly. "I pressed Ken to let us set a date. And guess what? He told me he never got divorced from Felicia. His wife." The words spilled out of her, and she was surprised to be taking her mother into her confidence.

"What?" Her mother's mouth fell open in disbelief. "Oh, honey. Do you mean he's been lying to you all this time?"

"Lying through the omission of some crucial information," she said. "He said she was sick and it would have been too hard on her if he divorced her."

"How about too hard on you if he didn't?" Her mother looked angry. "Oh, Cory, I'm sorry. I know how it feels to be betrayed by the man you love."

"I want to have this baby, Mom."

"Will you still marry him?"

Corinne hesitated. Did she even love him anymore? She wasn't sure she could ever live alone, with no one to turn to when she needed to drive more than a few blocks from her house. She started to say that she needed him, but wasn't it need that had pulled her mother to Timothy Gleason? She thought of Ken waiting outside in the car and was filled with resentment.

"I'm so afraid of being alone," she said.

"Cory," her mother said, "as long as I'm alive, you'll never be alone."

Her mother pressed her palm against the Plexiglas, and almost without thinking, Corinne lifted her own hand and pressed it to the gla.s.s as well. Her hand looked smooth and youthful against the misshapened knuckles and swollen wrist of her mother's. Aside from that, though, their hands were a perfect fit.

Chapter Sixty-Two.

"So, are you going to tell me how she's doing?" Ken said. They'd driven a mile from the jail and neither of them had said a word.

Corinne hesitated. "It was hard to see her there," she said. "Locked up like that."

"Did you have to talk to her through Plexiglas?"

She nodded. "That was hard, too." She thought of telling him about the wheelchair, the swollen knuckles, but didn't bother. She didn't feel like telling him anything at all.

"She's where she belongs. You know that, don't you?"