Her Silent Cry (Detective Josie Quinn Book 6)(41)

Josie didn’t argue. She picked Noah up at the mobile command station on her way home, never so relieved to see his face and hear his voice. Misty and Harris were asleep in the spare room by the time they made it up the stairs to Josie’s room.

“Did you eat anything tonight?” Noah asked her as she climbed under her covers. He always worried about her staying fed, hydrated and caffeinated.

“Yes,” she lied, not bothering to tell him her stomach had been far too churned up to eat after the evening’s events. “Just come to bed. I’ve missed you all day.”





Twenty-Six





Josie dreamt of Lucy—of racing after her in the park and in the Rosses’ home, which had endless twisting hallways. Every time she got close to the girl and reached her hand out to grasp her arm, Lucy would disappear into thin air. She woke breathless and covered in sweat and immediately headed for the shower. Once both Josie and Noah were ready for the day, she dropped Noah off at the mobile command center. Instead of driving to the Ross home, she doubled back and pulled into the parking lot of Denton West Elementary. It was a one-story sprawling brick building surrounded by immaculate landscaping and perfectly pruned bushes and trees. Josie found a parking spot in the visitors’ area. There was still an hour before students would begin to arrive for the day. She walked to the front entrance. Beside the double doors was a small brown box with a little button on it. Next to it a laminated sign announced that all visitors must report directly to the office. Josie punched the button and then looked up at the camera above the two doors. She took out her police credentials and held them up. Seconds later, there was an audible click as the locks on the doors disengaged.

Inside the building, more laminated signs directed her down the hallway to the right, past several classrooms and the entrance to the auditorium until she reached the office. Her elementary and high schools on the east side of Denton had been like this as well, with the office far from the entrance. She had always wondered why schools didn’t put their offices closer to the front doors. Inside the office, a pert secretary sat behind a desk with a headset on. Josie explained why she was there, showed her ID one more time and waited while the woman made a phone call. Finally, she was given directions to Lucy’s first grade classroom.

After navigating a few more hallways, Josie found Lucy’s teacher, Violet Young, standing just outside the classroom, waiting for her. Josie estimated Violet to be probably in her mid to late twenties. She was curvy with long auburn hair. A burgundy sweater clung to her torso, and stretchy black pants disappeared into knee high brown boots. A necklace made from dried macaroni hung from her neck. She smiled broadly as Josie came down the hallway.

They made introductions, and Violet invited Josie into her classroom, which was filled with tiny desks and chairs between a large teacher’s desk and a brightly colored carpet with the alphabet on it. A whiteboard took up nearly one entire wall. Posters and student artwork fluttered from the other walls. Violet walked to her desk and perched on the end of it. “Has there been any news?” she asked.

“I’m afraid not,” Josie said.

Violet’s gaze swept downward but not before Josie saw her eyes moisten. “This is just unbelievable. We’ve all been devastated. Our sweet Lucy. I can’t even imagine—”

Josie interrupted before she began to cry. “We’re doing everything we can to find Lucy. Working around the clock to bring her home.”

Violet looked back up at Josie. “FBI agents were here yesterday. They interviewed most of the staff.”

“Yes,” Josie said. “I know. They are doing an amazing job. I’m not here to second-guess the interviews they conducted. I’ve been assigned to Mrs. Ross.”

Violet’s hand fluttered to her macaroni necklace, her fingers running over the dried pasta noodles. “How is she?”

“As well as can be expected under the circumstances,” Josie said. “Do you have kids?”

Violet smiled. “No. My students are my kids. At least for now. My husband and I are on a five-year plan to get married, buy a house, get our careers in order and then have kids. Three more years and we can start trying!”

She said it with a note of desperation, as though she had rehearsed this stock answer and given it so many times, she hoped no one would see through it. Josie knew at once the five-year plan was the husband’s idea, not Violet’s. “Well,” Josie offered. “You’ll have all your affairs in order by the time you start your family. Speaking of family, I’ve been spending a lot of time with Lucy’s parents the last two days, and I just thought it might help me connect with them better if I knew more about Lucy. I just kind of wanted to see where she spends her days, ask you what kind of student she is, that sort of thing.”

“Oh, yes, of course.”

Violet weaved through the maze of little desks until she came to one in the center of the room. Her hand rested on its surface, and Josie walked over to stand next to her. “This is Lucy’s desk,” she said. All the desks stood on four metal legs, with an open hollow area beneath the faux wood surface so that students could slide their books and other supplies inside. Each desk had a colorful laminated strip of paper on it. On the top were numbers from zero to ten, then the student’s full name carefully written in marker, and below that the alphabet in upper and lower case. Josie pointed at the little cubby beneath the surface. “Do you mind?”