fallen though, but the new plan can be for Monday too.
At the moment people don’t look at her and see Melissa. They see a pregnant woman on the cusp of bursting, they see a mom-to-be. What they don’t do is take a good look and wonder if she could be a killer. People are easy to fool. She’s been fooling them for years now. She’s learned that wigs and hair dye and fake eyelashes and being nine months pregnant can make you anybody you want to be. Even Schroder, good old ex–detective inspector Schroder, didn’t recognize her. She could see him trying to place her, but there was no chance. They see fat pregnant chick and don’t see beyond that. He bought the acting story hook, line, and sinker, because she gave him no reason at all to doubt her. She can be a different person from who she was yesterday, and she can be a different person tomorrow. It’s how she’s been free to do what she wants all these years. It’s how she survives.
Right now the person she wants to be is dry. This rain is soaking through her clothes. She’s shivering. She waited five minutes on the chance Schroder noticed his keys were missing, but the detective is a former detective for a reason, and that’s probably one of them. Schroder’s car is about as messy as she’d expected it to be. Fast-food wrappers covering the mats in the backseat, children’s clothes, a car seat for a baby. Nobody is watching her. The weather is way too bad for anybody to think much beyond getting from point A to point B in a way that stops them from drowning. She said earlier to Schroder that she likes the rain, but the truth is she hates it. It surprises her that she still lives in this city. She was born here. Raised here. Raped here. Her sister was born here. Raised here. Raped here. And murdered here. There’s a lot of memories in Christchurch, not many of them any good. There are other cars in the parking lot, but she’s not concerned about anybody coming out at the wrong time and spotting her. She’s almost done here anyway. And if Schroder were to come outside now and catch her, well, she’ll just have to stab him and drive away with him in the backseat. It’d be a shame because over the last few minutes she’s come up with a very specific plan for Schroder’s future.
Schroder is still well informed for a guy who is no longer a cop. Which is what she was hoping for after I don’t want to shoot anybody Derek pointed out Joe’s route to the courthouse might not be the route she had imagined. She had to get the information from somewhere, and she figured Schroder would have it—after all, he was the lead on the Carver case. He was easy to follow too. She knows where he lives and where he works. She doesn’t know why he was fired. Something to do with drinking on the job is the official story—a whole bunch of cops showed up drunk at a crime scene a month ago—but she thinks there’s more to it than that. She doesn’t know what, exactly. And she doesn’t really care. All that matters is Joe, and what matters here is what Schroder knows about Joe, and about how Joe is getting to court.
There’s a box in the backseat containing files from Joe’s case. There are copies of crime scene reports, lots of photographs, evidence detailed down to the specifics. There’s a photograph of her, back when she was another person. She holds it up and runs her thumb over the smooth edge of it. It was taken a few weeks before she started university. God, that was ages ago. She wasn’t just a different person back then, but a completely different person. New look, new personality—staring into the photograph is like looking at a stranger. The person staring out at her had hopes and dreams. She was going to be somebody. That girl had no idea—she was innocent, she had no idea of her potential. Despite everything, she smiles at the memory of the picture being taken. The picture is as different as the day was different. Lots of sun. Blue skies. It was
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