Her Silent Cry (Detective Josie Quinn Book 6)(31)

Thoughts of her sensitive stomach and what the constant nausea might mean flooded Josie’s mind, but she pushed those aside and gave Amy a wan smile before inching further into the room. “I can never eat during big investigations.”

Amy stopped moving and looked at Josie’s face. Her mouth turned downward. “I did that to your face, didn’t I?”

Josie nodded. “This is nothing. I’ve been in worse situations. I know you didn’t mean it.”

“Sometimes I get… lost,” Amy said. “It’s like I get lost in my own mind, and I can’t get back. It hasn’t happened to me in years—decades, really. I just… I can’t handle this. Lucy. She’s my baby. I can’t.” Her shoulders shook with the effort of holding back her sobs. Josie circled the table and stood before her.

“Mrs. Ross,” she said.

Amy swallowed. “Amy, please. Call me Amy.”

“Amy.”

“Colin called my doctor. He prescribed me Xanax. Did you know that?”

“I didn’t. I suspected you might have taken something. I think that’s smart if it helps you keep your wits about you.”

“It dulls it,” Amy replied. “That’s all. Oh, my Lucy.” Her voice lowered, as though she were about to tell Josie a secret. Josie leaned in to hear her. “Do you know what men do to little girls when they take them?”

Josie felt that sick feeling take hold of her again, and she steeled herself against it. “Yes,” Josie said. “I do know.”

Amy nodded and turned away. She put her palms on either side of the sink and leaned into it. A small window over the sink looked out into the backyard which was filled with toys and one large play set shaped like a treehouse. “I knew you did. I can tell. Did they tell you I failed my polygraph?”

“Yes,” Josie said.

“They think I did this now? That I would… that I would do something like this to my own child?”

“Polygraphs aren’t always reliable,” Josie said. “You’re under a tremendous amount of stress. That could cause your results to be inconclusive.”

Amy looked over her shoulder at the doorway as though making sure no one else was listening. “I’ve been lying to my husband. I told him I wanted to go back to school, get a college degree. I did everything I was supposed to do—got transcripts, did the application, wrote a stupid personal essay. I got in. But then I lost my nerve. He thinks I’ve been taking classes. I haven’t.”

“People have lied about worse things,” Josie said. “So what do you do with your time? While Lucy is in school?”

Amy sighed. “I clean around here. You’d be surprised how much mess one seven-year-old girl makes. I sometimes go to yoga. Sometimes just go for a run. Then I start dinner.”

That hardly filled a whole day, but Josie didn’t push. Instead, she asked, “Your nanny picks Lucy up from school?”

“Yes. Jaclyn brings her home and keeps her occupied while I finish dinner. Jaclyn usually starts her on her homework. She stays and has dinner with us most nights. My God, I haven’t even talked to her since… this all started. She’s visiting her family. I should really call her.”

“My team and the FBI talked to her already,” Josie said. “She’s due back in town today. She was very upset about Lucy. I’m sure she’ll call you once she gets settled in. Tell me, why didn’t you take a class? Why not start with just one?”

Amy looked at her, a broken smile on her face. “I’m not college material, Detective.”

“But you got in,” Josie argued. “What field were you going to study?”

Amy shrugged. “I wasn’t sure. I didn’t have to declare a major right away. I was only supposed to be starting my general education credits. Anyway, it doesn’t matter now, does it? None of it ever mattered. All that’s ever mattered is Lucy, and I failed her. What kind of mother loses her daughter on a carnival ride when she’s seated right next to her?”

Josie reached out and touched Amy’s shoulder. “This is not your fault. That I know absolutely. Don’t waste time or energy blaming yourself.”

Amy didn’t look convinced, but she mumbled a thank you.

The sound of a cell phone ringing from the other room startled them both. Amy pushed herself away from the sink and ran into the dining room. None of the agents looked up, not even Oaks. Colin simply stared at the center of the table where Amy’s phone danced as it vibrated with each ring. She reached forward and snatched it up. “It’s Jaclyn,” she said.

Oaks raised a hand. “Mrs. Ross, the call we’re waiting for is from the kidnapper. You should keep the lines open in case he calls.”

Amy looked at the phone screen, uncertainty creasing her brow. Her forefinger hovered over the answer icon.

Colin said, “Don’t answer it, Ame. Jaclyn will understand.”

Josie said, “The note said ‘answer each call’. Each call.”

Oaks said, “We know who this number belongs to—the nanny—not the kidnapper.”

The phone stopped ringing. Amy looked up from the screen, looking from Josie to Oaks and back again. A long, tense moment stretched out in the room. Josie heard the wall clock ticking, the sounds of reporters talking outside.