“Because Margaret remembers one tiny detail from the last evening she saw you.”
He reached beneath the bed and removed a small wooden box.
Inside was a pair of tiny red shoes.
“Your mother bought matching shoes for you both. Before leaving, you took yours off and ran through this room barefoot, carrying that rabbit.”
Margaret smiled through her tears.
“You told me grown-up ladies wear red shoes, but little girls run faster without them.”
A sob escaped my throat.
I remembered saying those words.
Richard sat beside us.
“When our investigators finally found you, I panicked. I wanted Margaret to recognize you, but I was terrified she wouldn’t. I arranged everything to recreate that last evening.”
“Why midnight?”
He looked toward his wife.
“Because that’s when Margaret received the telephone call about the accident. Every year, on this date, she sits awake until midnight, waiting for someone to tell her that Catherine and little Emmy are safe.”
