Chapter 10
TEN
Glass had fallen on Lydia from where she’d crouched on the floor of the passenger seat when she’d seen the man running back toward River’s car.
River reached in through the broken window and unlocked the door. “You’re okay.”
She looked up at him. After he opened the door, she crawled out of the cubbyhole that had saved her life. River wrapped his arms around her.
“I was so afraid for you.” His voice washed with a measure of relief and joy.
“I was scared, too.” She closed her eyes and rested her palm on his chest, appreciating the strength of his arms around her and the gentle cadence of his voice.
She was surrounded by his warmth and the rhythm of his breathing. If only she could stay there, forever safe in River’s arms. She opened her eyes to the darkness and decay of the street around her. Back to reality.
He glanced up the street. “Not sure what’s happening with Maren, but we need to get you out of here.”
The chill night air surrounded her when she pulled away from the hug.
He glanced through the open door of the passenger seat. “There’s a lot of glass in there. Why don’t you sit in the back seat with Frankie?”
She reached in and grabbed Elsie’s floral jacket while River loaded up Frankie. The dog pressed close to her. Frankie’s warmth and soft fur and the sound of the dog’s breathing had a calming effect on Lydia. She held the windbreaker close.
In the front seat, River phoned Maren, who assured him she’d called in the shooting. “Okay, thank you for the help. You put in a long day… Have a safe drive home.”
She stared at the back of River’s blond head. “She lost him?”
“Yes, his car was parked in the busier part of this street in a parking lot. She was on foot when she saw the tan SUV pull out.”
She clutched the coat even tighter. “Why does he want me dead?”
“Not sure what’s going on here.” River rolled through the residential part of town and pulled out onto a street where there were businesses and neon lights. “That was quite a bit of glass that rained on you. Do you want to swing by the ER to be checked out?”
She looked at her hands and then touched her face. When she ran her fingers over her auburn hair, bits of glass fell out. The memory of the assault made her shudder. “I’m not bleeding. I just want to go home…back to your place.”
“We were on our way to get food and clothes before all this happened. Are you up to it?”
Fatigue settled into her muscles. “I don’t want to go back to my house. Let’s just grab some food.”
He drove to a box store that had food as well as clothes for sale. River stayed close to her as they entered the store together. She sensed that he was still on high alert. He’d checked his mirrors constantly while driving. He was expecting another attack.
After they got enough food for a couple days and a few items of clothing, River drove back to his house.
Once inside the house, he handed her the bag of groceries he’d been carrying. “Frankie and I are going to do a walk around the perimeter of the house. Why don’t you try to get some sleep?”
She nodded. After putting the groceries away, she collapsed on the bed, placing Elsie’s jacket on the pillow beside her.
She rested her hand on the floral fabric and closed her eyes.
Her mind raced. The logical part of her brain knew it was possible that Elsie was no longer alive.
But her heart told her that Elsie was still out there somewhere.
The kidnapper had known seeing the jacket would lure Lydia out of the car.
Why she and Elsie had been targeted, she could not fathom.
She closed her eyes and prayed for peace and for wisdom.
By the time she heard River and Frankie come back into the house, she felt herself drifting off to sleep.
Elsie, where are you?
She awoke to the sound of her phone ringing. Angel, her co-teacher.
“Oh, Angel, I’m so sorry. I meant to check in with you. There’s just been so much going on.”
“No worries. That’s not why I’m phoned this morning. The class is running just fine. Your lesson plans are very detailed, and the parents have really stepped up to help in the classroom. We’ll be fine in the short term.”
“That makes me feel better. So, why are you calling?”
“It’s Miles. He’s still insisting that he saw an old lady with white hair in the trees the day Elsie disappeared.
I know he likes to embellish and outright make things up for attention.
But this feels different. Usually, he tells a story and then he’s on to the next tall tale. He won’t let go of this one.”
“Maybe it would be worth it to have a police officer talk to him again,” said Lydia.
“The reason I called this morning is that his mother is volunteering today, so she could sit with Miles while he’s questioned.”
“It might be good if I came along, too, since he trusts me.” Lydia knew Miles well enough that she thought she might be able to discern if he was telling the truth, a half-truth, or just making the whole thing up.
“That sounds good. If you can come when the class is on their outside break or at the library, you can use the classroom.”
“We’ll get over there as fast as we can.” After showering and changing into the clothes she’d bought the night before, she stepped into the kitchen where River sat at the table sipping coffee, Frankie at his feet.
“River, I have another straw that we can grasp at.”
* * *
River looked up from his coffee. Lydia seemed to have regained some of her natural determination. “I’m willing to try anything at this point. I just heard from Eva that Prentiss Grafton’s alibi checks out.”
“Oh.” Disappointment colored Lydia’s features.
“Then what I am about to tell you may be our only hope. That was my co-teacher on the phone. Miles, a boy who’s in Elsie’s class, keeps insisting that he saw an old woman in the trees the day Elsie was taken.
He tends to make stuff up, but Angel says this feels different.
Usually, if he’s challenged about a tall tale he’s told, he’ll back down. ”
“I remember you mentioning that. Let’s go over there and question the child.
” Without any strong leads, he’d been thinking of circling back to Sloane.
Though an in-person interview would be best, the rehab was a three hour drive away.
Talking to Miles might turn up the lead they needed.
One of the things he’d learned about investigations was that when they stalled out, it was often worth it to revisit old evidence to try to see it with fresh eyes.
They both grabbed a protein bar and headed out the door with Frankie. They got into his patrol car. His personal car with the broken window was parked on the street. He’d have to get it into a window replacement place before he used it again.
He drove across town and parked in front of the school where Lydia taught. A group of children were playing outside.
“I’ll call Angel to let her know we’re here so she can have Miles and his mom go to the classroom where we’ll have some privacy. The other kids will be in the library for forty-five minutes.”
He deployed Frankie. The Lab’s charm often worked well to build trust and break the ice when it came to asking questions of someone. It should work especially well with a four-year-old boy.
As they walked the halls, several teachers and a child came up to give Lydia a hug and ask her if there was any news of Elsie.
Lydia managed an answer, though her voice held a degree of strain and her features hardened as she spoke. The questions were coming from a place of genuine concern but repeating over and over that Elsie was still missing was clearly a struggle for her.
Lydia led River and Frankie to the empty classroom where a boy with brown curly hair sat with his mom.
The room itself was decorated with children’s art and educational posters in bright primary colors.
Though River had only known Lydia since Elsie had been taken, the positive atmosphere of the room seemed to hint at who she had been before this tragedy.
He pictured her at the beginning of the school year decorating the room for her kids.
Miles’s eyes brightened when he saw Frankie. He got up from his chair. “Can I pet your dog?”
Frankie wagged her tail.
Works every time.
Miles stroked Frankie’s head. “Her fur is so soft. Why does she have this vest on?”
Lydia got down to Miles’s level. “Frankie is a police dog.”
River got on his knees as well. “She’s my partner, Miles. I’m a police officer.”
Miles’s mother piped up. “Why don’t you come and sit back down, honey? Mrs. Caldwell and this nice policeman would like to ask you some questions.”
Miles did a half twirl before sitting in his child-sized chair. “Is this about Elsie?”
“Yes.” When River sat in one of the child-sized chairs, his knees nearly hit his chin. Frankie moved so she was in between River and Miles.
Miles stared at the table then stroked the dog’s back. “I miss Elsie. She was my painting buddy.”
“We all miss her.” Lydia’s voice swelled with emotion.
“Miles, I understand you saw a lady in the trees the day Elsie went missing.”
Miles put his hands on his hips. “I told Miss Angel that.”
“He mentioned it at home, too,” said Miles’s mother.
It sounded like the boy had been talking quite a bit about what he’d witnessed. “What can you tell me about the woman you saw?” River asked.
Miles pressed his lips together and wrinkled his forehead then he stared at the ceiling. “I talked about it already.” He looked at River. Maybe he was hesitant to talk around a police officer.
Lydia rose from the chair and grabbed crayons and paper from a nearby table. “Maybe it would help if Miles drew a picture of what he saw. Miles is quite a good artist.”
The boy grinned and raised his chin as she set the paper and crayons down in front of him. He chose a green crayon from the box and began to draw what looked like triangular evergreens.
At the same time Miles started drawing, he began to talk. Lydia’s move had worked.
“She was an old lady with white hair.” His finger traced the outline of the trees. “When we sat down to eat our snack, I was looking at the forest and everyone else was facing the trail. Miss Angel made me turn around.”
“I do remember that.” Lydia’s voice brightened. “Miles likes to be different from the other children.”
The little boy grinned and started to pet Frankie again. “Yup, that’s me.”
River put his finger on the trees. “This is where you saw the old lady?”
“Just a second.” Miles selected several different colors and proceeded to draw ten circles. Then he turned them into faces and added details.
River didn’t want to interrupt, but he needed to pick the kid’s brain about what he’d seen in the trees.
Lydia shifted in her chair. “Miles, could you draw the old lady first?”
“Just a second,” said Miles. He drew another circle covered in curly hair, with no face. “This is me.”
Lydia gave River a raised eyebrow.
Miles’s mother leaned close to him. “Honey, I think what they most want to know about is the lady that you saw.”
Miles lifted his crayon from the page and crossed his arms. Clearly, he didn’t appreciate that his creative process had been interrupted.
“Do you remember anything else about the lady? Was it just her white hair that made you think she was old?”
“No, she had an old face, too.” He continued to pet Frankie.
Lydia pushed one of the crayons toward him. “Maybe you could show us.”
River doubted that a drawing from a four-year-old would be lifelike, but the process of crayoning seemed to unlock some part of the kid’s memory.
Miles picked up the crayon and drew a circle between the trees. “Her head popped up. She looked at where we were sitting. But I’m the only one who saw her.”
“Yes, Miles. You are the only one,” said Lydia.
The notion that he was special made the four-year-old smile again. He put a face on the circle.
“Anything else you remember about this woman?” said River. “What was she wearing?”
“I only saw her head just for a second. She went back in the forest where Elsie went to chase the butterfly.”
River shifted on the tiny chair. “That’s all?”
“That’s all.” Miles put his crayon down. His expression changed as something across the room drew his attention and he popped up from his chair. “Hey, wait a minute here.” He walked across the classroom and picked up a white hat that had been put on a doll propped in the corner of the room.
Lydia turned in her chair. “Miles, what is it?”
He held the hat in his hands and stared at it. “Now I remember.”
He waved the hat around. “Her hair wasn’t white. She was wearing a white hat just like this one. The one Miss Caldwell wore for silly hat day.”
“Just like that one?” All the color had drained from Lydia’s face as she spoke in a monotone.
River wondered what had caused the sudden drop in mood. What had Lydia realized?
When Miles mentioned the hat, River thought he was adding to what might be a true story, but Lydia’s reaction told him something else was going on.
River turned so he could look directly at Miles. “So, if her hair wasn’t white, what color was it?”
Miles sucked on his finger and then pointed it at River while he stood on one foot. “I remember. It was kind of brown but not brown-brown.” He riffled through the crayon box, holding up a ginger-colored crayon. “Like this.” Miles proceeded to put hair on his circle and then drew the hat.
So maybe the woman’s hair was strawberry-blond. Growing more agitated, Lydia laced her fingers together.
Miles pointed at his chest. “I’m telling a true story.”
“Yes, you are. Miles, thank you.” River nodded toward Miles’s mother. “Thank you for letting us talk to your boy.”
“Can I go be with the others in the library now? I’m going to find a book about cars.”
“Sure,” said River.
Miles put the hat down on the table by Lydia. He handed River the picture he’d drawn. “You can keep this.”
“Thank you, Miles,” said River.
After petting Frankie a few more times, he took his mother’s hand and left the room.
Lydia picked up the hat and stared at the wall.
He scooted his chair closer to her. “Lydia, something Miles said shocked you. What is it?”
“This hat that I wore for silly hat day…” She turned so she could look directly at him. “My mother-in-law has one exactly like it. We bought it when we took Elsie to a craft fair.” She let out a sharp breath. “River, what if Elsie’s grandparents are involved in all this?”