She had curly blond hair and a bright yellow bracelet.
"Who is she?"
Harris examined the file.
"Patient Eight. Her name was June Bell."
I frowned.
"Was?"
"She's alive, as far as we know."
My heart quickened.
"Can we find her?"
"With the appropriate help, perhaps. But she should be contacted carefully and given a choice about participating."
I nodded.
I didn't want to turn someone else's suffering into an investigation she hadn't agreed to join.
Still, I couldn't stop thinking about those children.
For twenty years, I'd believed I was alone in what happened to me.
Now there were eight other faces.
Eight other families.
And perhaps eight other versions of the same lie.
***
That afternoon, I met Nigel in a quiet hospital consultation room.
It was the first time we'd sat across from each other since I saw his face.
He looked tired.
His dark hair was slightly disheveled.
