The Secret Friend

67

Hannah's parents sat on the couch watching a recording of last night's Nancy Grace show. The so-called victim's rights crusader was talking about the abduction of Hannah Givens, the apparent third victim of a Boston-based serial killer who abducted college women and, after holding them for a period of weeks, shot them in the back of the head and dumped their bodies.

After rehashing the gory details of Emma Hale and Judith Chen's murders, Nancy Grace consulted a criminal psychologist and a former FBI profiler, both women, and asked them if Hannah's abductor, given the heightened media attention, might panic and decide to kill her. There was much discussion about the possibility.

Tracey Givens, her eyes bloodshot and puffy from crying, turned away from the TV, saw Darby and stood.

'You find anything in my daughter's bedroom, Miss McCormick?'

'No, ma'am, I didn't.'

Hannah's mother seemed surprised. Hannah's father stared at the stains in the well-worn carpet.

'You were in there an awfully long time today, I thought you…'

'I wanted to get to know your daughter better,' Darby said.

Tracey Givens glanced back to the TV where Nancy Grace was shouting at Paul Corsetti, the media rep for the Boston police. By not telling the truth to the public, Nancy Grace yelled to the camera, Boston PD had put Hannah's life in danger.

No, you dumb, self-centred piece of shit, you're the one who's putting Hannah's life in danger.

Darby couldn't stomach it any more. 'Thank you for allowing me to examine Hannah's things,' she said, opening the front door. Hannah's father followed.

Michael Givens had the face of a man who had spent too many years in the sun. His skin, sagging and leathery, was carved with deep grooves. He looked frail in the afternoon light. The street was quiet now. The Boston media and national tabloids were downtown at Chadzynski's press conference.

'The experts on TV, they're saying all this attention Hannah's getting might egg this man on – might encourage him to, you know, do something,' he said. 'But those TV people, these so-called experts, they're looking at it from the outside. You're on the inside, Miss McCormick. You've got all the facts.'

Darby waited, not sure what the man was asking.

'They said on the news you worked on the other two cases where the women disappeared.'

'I've only read the case files.'

'Those two girls… they were gone for a long time, right?'

'Mr Givens, I'm going to work day and night to find a way to bring your daughter home. That's a promise.'

Hannah's father nodded. He was about to open the door when he decided to lean against the doorway. He crossed his arms over his chest and looked to the corner of the porch, at the recycling bins filled with beer cans.

'Hannah… she wanted to stay home with us and go to a local school, a community college about ten minutes away,' Michael Givens said. 'Schools in the northeast are real good. Hannah got this real nice financial aid package from Northeastern, so I pushed her. Sometimes you've got to push your kids. You've got to give them a shove 'cause sometimes that's the only way to help them.

'I told Hannah I couldn't afford to send her to the local college, which was the truth. We don't make much. Getting a degree up here would open all sorts of doors for her. Hannah didn't like it much – she missed her friends, didn't care for the weather here. Too cold, she said. My wife, she sort of relented, said she'd pick up an extra job to help see Hannah through a local college but I said no. I kept pressing Hannah to come here. My daughter's shy – she's been that way since she was wee-high – and I thought, my thinking was being up here, surrounded by all these smart people, it would do Hannah a world of good, help break her out of her shell. She may be shy but she's a persistent bugger when it comes to studying.

'Hannah kept on telling me how unhappy she was, how she wanted to come home, and I kept telling her no. I'd hang up and every time there'd be a knot in my stomach. I always shook it off. Maybe God was trying to tell me something.'

'Mr Givens, I know this is easy for me to say, but you can't blame yourself for what's happened. Sometimes…'

'What?'

Sometimes things just happen, Darby said to herself. Sometimes God doesn't care.

'We're all working real hard on this, sir.'

Michael Givens stood with his hands in his pockets, unsure of what to say or where to look.

'What do you think of her?' he asked.

'I think your daughter is -'

'No, I meant Nancy Grace. She wants us to come on TV and talk about Hannah, says it will help find her. My wife wants to do it, says anything we can do to help Hannah we ought to. Truth be told, I don't feel too good about it. There's something about the way that woman carries on that gives me a bad feeling all over. If we go on TV, you think it will make this person who's got Hannah decide to… hurt her?'

Darby told him the truth. 'I don't know.'

'What would you do, if you were in my situation?'

'I think you should do what you feel is right.'

'What's your opinion of that Nancy Grace woman?'

'Personally, I think the only thing she gives a shit about is ratings.'

'You're blunt. I admire that. You and Hannah would get along real good. Thank you, Miss McCormick.'

Hannah's father turned around but he didn't open the door.

'She's our only child. We couldn't have any other children. It was a miracle we had her. I don't know what we'd do if she… Just bring my baby girl home, okay?'

His hands fumbled for the doorknob. Michael Givens stumbled back inside, forgetting to shut the door behind him. He took the seat next to his wife and stared at the phone, willing it to ring.