“I don’t know,” I said lamely. “To get justice?” The moment the words left my mouth, I felt stupid. I’d repeated these words to all my interviewees, and how pointless it all turned out to be. I didn’t get justice for anyone—Laura did. And I had to admit, after much soul-searching, that the words had been as hollow as they sounded. I was in it for me from the start.
Laura sighed. “Justice for whom? There’s nobody left. Tony is a husk of himself, and Frank…” She waved her hand dismissively and grimaced. “The only one left who I care about is Luc. And ask yourself this, Stephanie. Does Luc need to know this?”
I had no answer to that. We went into the cabin.
Everything appeared exactly as it was last time. The floorboards creaked beneath our steps. The musty damp smell seemed a little more bearable than the last time I was here. The memory of that day, the kiss, the fight with Luc, made heat rise into my face.
And the whole time, the answer had been right here.
It was still kind of hard to believe.
“Come on,” Laura said, not wasting any time. “Help me with this.”
Without further ado, she knelt on the floor by the window and hooked her fingers under one of the floorboards. The board creaked but didn’t give way—yet. I rushed over to help, using the crowbar I’d brought with me to pry away the board, and this time, it didn’t take much effort. The board dislodged, sending a veritable cloud of dust into our faces. Laura winced, and I pulled the collar of my turtleneck over my mouth and nose. The second board followed suit, and then the third. That was all it took. Before the third floorboard gave way, we already knew the letter had told the truth.
She was only brittle bones by then, of course, bones washed in stagnant water every spring for years. Yet somehow the remnants of her dress survived—the same pattern of flowers I saw her wear in that photo of the Fortiers and the Bergmanns that Luc took from the Fortier house.
I couldn’t help but recoil, cursing. Laura, on the other hand, stayed on her knees. She looked over the remains serenely and crossed herself.
“Well?” I asked. “Can we call someone now?”
Laura shook her head.
“Mom!” I exclaimed in a hushed voice.
“Wait.”
To my surprise, she began to pry away the next board.
“What are you doing?” I asked. “That’s it. We found her.”
Laura gave me a look and then turned back to her task without asking me to help her this time. I stood stupidly over her for a few long seconds, wondering what the hell she was doing. Then I snapped out of my stupor and got to work alongside her.
Fourth board, then fifth. Now we could see all of Sophie in the dusty daylight.
“Happy now?” I asked Laura, a little breathless. The gloves I’d worn—smartly—were full of splinters, and I was sweating under my too-warm jacket. I was just about ready to call it a day, to go back home and finally call the authorities like we should have done from the start.
“Hang on,” Laura said. She pried away another board, and, with an effort that clearly took a lot out of her, tossed it aside. It clattered to the floor behind her.
We both found ourselves staring at the hollow underneath it.
“Dammit,” I muttered into my collar.
“I thought so,” Laura said quietly. “Are you going to help me get the rest of these boards or does your dying mother have to do everything herself?”
Without another word, I attacked the next board with my crowbar. Half the cabin floor had now been stripped away.
There were four of them total. Four little bundles of cloth, with tiny bones protruding through the disintegrating fabric. It didn’t look real. It had to be some kind of sick joke.
“Could these be animals?” I asked, feeling like an idiot.
Laura didn’t answer, and I thought at first that she’d decided not to dignify that with a response. But then I looked at her, kneeling there with her eyes closed, and realized she was praying.
As if prayer was going to solve anything. As if prayer was going to bring anybody back.
“Michelle wasn’t the first baby,” I said grimly, at last. “That’s where Sophie kept disappearing to.”
Laura finished her silent prayer and looked up, nodding.
“Do you think Pierre had found them?”
Laura shrugged.
“He had to have found them,” I said. “But then, he would have mentioned it in the letter. Wouldn’t he?”
“Maybe he didn’t mention it on purpose. Wanted to see if we’d find them, or even come to look in the first place.”
“You mean, he left it up to fate to decide?” I ask bitterly.
“Something like that. Anyway. What does it change?”
“Well, we can’t just ignore this,” I said.
Laura gave me another pointed look. “Yes, we can.”
“You can’t be serious,” I said, and I meant it.
“Nothing we do can fix this,” Laura said. “All it’ll accomplish at this point is harm the living. Like Luc. Do you want that?”
