Shamed (Kate Burkholder #11)(21)

For the first time the girl gives us two eyes, dividing her attention between Mackie and me and the doll. “I like it.”

“Susie it is then.” Mackie looks longingly at the doll, giving an exaggerated frown. “I think I’m a little too old for dolls.”

“Annie’s just about the right age,” I put in.

Mackie perks up as if she hadn’t thought of it. “What a great idea! Annie, would you like her?”

Again, the girl looks up at her mamm. Asking for permission to accept the gift. The woman nods, encouraging her to interact.

The girl gives an enthusiastic nod. “Ja.”

Mackie runs a hand over the doll’s head, gives it a big, smacking kiss, and then passes it to the child. “There you go.”

A smile whispers across the girl’s face as she takes the doll. Something shifts inside me when she looks at the doll, then closes her eyes and hugs it against her.

“Maybe Susie can keep you company until we find Elsie,” Mackie says.

Caution enters the child’s eyes, but she nods.

“Did you and Elsie find lots of walnuts today?” Mackie asks the question in a nonchalant, casual way, as if it’s an afterthought and she doesn’t care whether she gets an answer.

“Two bags,” Annie says in a small voice.

Good girl, I think. Talk to us, honey. Talk.

“What happened while you were picking up walnuts?” Mackie asks.

The girl turns away, sets her face against her mamm’s dress, and seems to fold in on herself. Pulling away. From us. From questions she’s already been asked too many times and doesn’t want to face again. From the memory of her dead grandmother and the knowledge that her sister is gone.

“Was there someone else there?” Mackie asks gently.

The little girl puts her thumb in her mouth and begins to suck.

“I wonder if the stranger was picking up walnuts, too?” Mackie asks of no one in particular.

The thumb comes out. “He was in the house,” Annie tells us.

“A man?”

“Ja.”

“Hmmm. What happened next?”

“Grossmammi was in the house, too,” the girl says.

Mackie casts a look toward me. “‘Grossmammi’ is ‘Grandmother’?”

“Yes.” I wink at Annie and whisper, “She doesn’t know Deitsch.”

Mackie continues. “I wonder why your grossmammi went into the house.” A pause and then, “Did she hear something? See something?”

“She just likes it because she used to play there when she was little.”

“I see.” Mackie gives an exaggerated nod. “Did she go in through the front door or back?”

“Back.”

“What were you and Elsie doing?”

“Putting walnuts in our bags. We wanted to fill them up so we could play.”

“Did you see anyone else outside?” Mackie asks.

“No.”

“So you and Elsie were playing and picking up walnuts.” Mackie slants her a smile. “Having fun?”

“Ja.”

“And Grossmammi was in the house, looking around. What happened next?”

The girl snuggles against her mamm. “We heard Grossmammi yelling.”

“What did she say?”

“I don’t remember.”

The agent nods thoughtfully. “What did you do?”

Again, the girl brings her hand to her mouth and begins to suck her thumb. She pulls it out long enough to say, “We thought she fell down or saw a mouse, so we went in to find her.”

“What did you see when you went inside?”

A storm cloud of emotion darkens her face. Her breaths quicken. I see her mind dragging her back to what must have been a horrifying moment. “Grossmammi.” She buries her face against her mother.

“Where was she?” Mackie asks.

“On the floor. In the kitchen. She was bleeding and…” The girl stops speaking as if she doesn’t have enough breath to finish.

“Was there anyone else in the kitchen?”

“Not at first, but then the Plain man came out.”

“What did he look like?”

The girl takes us through much the same description as the one she gave me. White male. Old—at least in the eyes of a five-year-old child. Brown hair. When she’s finished, she turns away, presses her face against her mamm, and whispers, “Ich bin fashrokka.” I’m scared.

Miriam pats her daughter’s back. “God is with you. He will guide you.”

Mackie is soft and sympathetic, but maintains a gentle level of pressure. “Everything you tell me might help us find Elsie.”

The girl turns to look at her, wipes her face with her sleeve. “Elsie was scared,” she whispers.

“I know, sweetie. You’re doing a good job.” Mackie reaches out and squeezes the girl’s hand. “What happened after the man came into the kitchen?”

“We ran out the back door.”

“Did the man follow?”

“Ja.”

“What happened next?”

“I don’t know. I just ran.”

“Did he say anything?”

Her brows furrow and she takes a moment to think about it. “He said, ‘Sie is meiner.’”