Her Silent Cry (Detective Josie Quinn Book 6)(13)

When they got back to the tent, Colin had gone and Amy sat in his place on a chair, bundled in a thick fleece jacket. Her sandy hair hung limp and unbrushed. Her eyelids were swollen. She looked up hopefully when they came in. “Anything?”

They all shook their heads. Josie said, “Not yet.”

Amy frowned. “What—what happened to your face?”

Everyone froze and stared at her. Mettner said, “You don’t remember?”

Amy said, “Remember what?”

She had been so hysterical, Josie wasn’t at all surprised that she didn’t remember struggling against her and Mettner. She probably didn’t even realize she had hit Josie. Besides, it was an accident. Josie cut in, “I ran into a tree branch. Mrs. Ross, do you think you could look at some video footage and photos for us from today?”

Amy jumped to her feet. “Yes, please. Anything that you think will help.”

Noah patted the chair next to him and Amy took it. They went through the footage of Lucy getting off her carousel horse and running off. None of them mentioned the door opening but Josie did explain that they believed that Lucy was running toward something or someone. They asked Amy to review all the photos they had from the day to see if she recognized anyone in the background that Lucy may have been excited to see. Two hours slipped past, but Amy didn’t recognize anyone in the photos.

Two of the rotating search teams returned, having found nothing, and two fresh teams went back out. The ERT had finished processing the inside of the carousel, but the results of their findings would take time to get back. Gretchen decided that two of the detectives from their investigative team should go home and sleep for a few hours. Josie and Mettner volunteered. Noah and Gretchen would stay on-scene until they returned and then they would go and do the same. They were all hoping for many volunteers to help with the search in the morning.





Nine





I saw the silver woman from the window again. She was standing outside in her large garden with her back to me, a watering can in one hand. I called her the silver woman because her hair was the color of a coin I once found under our bed. After my sweaty palm clamped around it to recover it, I unfurled my fingers and let the sunlight glint off its surface. The man on the coin had long hair just like the silver woman, and today her hair was tied back in a ponytail just like his. Turning side to side, she sprinkled the water on the flowers at her feet. I willed her to turn around, to look up and see me staring at her. But she didn’t. I even tapped a fingernail against the glass to try to get her attention, but it didn’t work. I thought of rapping on the window with my knuckles, but that would make too much noise. I knew I was supposed to be quiet and still.

I pressed the coin against the window with my thumb, wishing it could break through the glass. Then I could go outside. I could get close to the flowers in the silver woman’s garden. Maybe she would even let me use her watering can.

The coin slipped from beneath my thumb, slid down the window, bounced off the sill and clattered to the floor. The noise bounced off the walls of the small room. I felt a squeeze in my chest. I had been warned about making too much noise. She had told me not to watch the silver woman. “Don’t draw attention to yourself,” she always said.

When I heard her at the door, I scrambled down from my perch at the windowsill, scooped up my coin, and jumped back onto the bed. I pushed the coin under the pillow.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Nothing.”

“I heard something in here.”

“I didn’t do anything,” I said.

“I heard you moving around. What did I tell you?”

I pulled my knees to my chest but didn’t answer.

“I know you remember. You have to be as quiet as you can or he’ll hurt us,” she said.

“I want to come out there with you,” I told her. “Pleeease.”

She gave me a pained smile. “I know you do. When he leaves, I’ll take you out there.”

He didn’t leave for a long time. Then she took me into the other rooms. I loved to explore them even though I had seen them many times before. They were at least different from my own room. I tried to discover a new detail each time: the one yellowing, chipped tile in the kitchen; the scrape of the brown fabric on the lumpy recliner chair against my skin; the large grease spot where his head rested when he sat in the chair and smoked. Beside the chair was a small table with a remote control that I was never to touch. Next to that was a round ashtray overflowing with cigarette butts. My fingers lingered over the mound of discarded, smoked cigarettes. I wanted to touch them, but she shooed me away. I jumped on the couch instead and skipped around on the carpet until she snapped at me. “You have to be still. If you break something, he’ll—”

She stopped.

I stared up at her. “He’ll hurt us?”

“Or worse,” she said, whispering as though he was still there somewhere, listening in secret. She gripped my arm, squeezing hard. “Promise me,” she said. “Promise me you will do exactly as I say.”

I stared into her wide eyes. “I promise.”





Ten





At home, Josie showered and tried to clean up her face as best she could, but she already had two black eyes forming. So much for Chitwood’s idea for her to be the face of Denton PD. She fell into her bed, so exhausted that her entire body felt achy. She wished Noah had come home with her. Thoughts of Lucy Ross swirled in her head. God, she hoped she was wrong about the girl being kidnapped, but she just couldn’t shake the bad feeling sitting on her shoulders like a weighted cloak.