The Vanishing Season (The Collector #4)(10)

“Suzie’s grandmother told us they don’t get along.”

“I won’t try to claim that Brooklyn and Rebecca never do anything wrong, but unfortunately, Suzie is a bully. We have her in weekly sessions with her guidance counselor to address that.”

“Any particular cause, do you know?”

“We think it’s a response to trouble at home. Her parents seem to be disengaged, at best. Most of our interaction is with her grandmother.”

“Has Child Services ever been brought into it?”

“No. Her grandmother is listed as an additional legal guardian, and we’ve never seen anything to indicate that Suzie is being abused. Her grandmother is involved and active and clearly adores her. The prevailing theory, at least as far as we have information, is that Suzie got jealous of how involved Alice Mercer and Miriam Copernik were with their daughters’ troop when they were in Daisies, and started lashing out.”

“Dr. Moore?”

All three of us turn to the woman standing a polite distance away. She’s either a guidance counselor or a kindergarten teacher, in her long broomstick skirt and chunky cardigan.

“Yes?”

“I’ve got Suzie Gray in the hall, crying herself sick. She’d like to speak with you.”

Moore stands and looks around the room, I assume looking to see if any students are in there. “Go ahead and bring her in. We were just speaking of her.”

The woman nods and hurries out, coming back in a moment later with another woman, this one older and somewhat heavyset, and a little brunette girl crying too hard to see where she’s going. The girl stumbles over her feet, relying on the women to steer her.

Moore holds out his seat for her, and once she’s collapsed into it, kneels next to her. The women take up positions on the edge of the platform. “Suzie?” he says gently. “Tell me what’s going on, Miss Suzie.”

“It’s my fault,” she sobs. “It’s my fault Brooklyn’s missing. I don’t want to go to jail!”





5

We all startle at that, but Moore recovers quickly. He takes her hand in his, rubbing his thumb comfortingly against her knuckles. “What do you mean, Suzie? Why do you think this is your fault?”

Suzie gives a great sniff. I pull a travel pack of tissues out of my coat pocket and slide it across the table. The principal accepts it and gives one of the tissues to Suzie to blow her nose.

Eddison and I share a cautious look. In the way of brothers everywhere, Eddison has a tendency to panic when little girls cry around him. It’s not that he’s unsympathetic or that he’s bad with kids, it’s just that crying little girls break his heart and he gets very awkward and anxious. Normally, I’d be stepping in here.

But if Suzie thinks it’s her fault that Brooklyn is gone, the sight of me may not help.

Eddison twitches an eyebrow. I wrinkle my nose. He tilts his head to one side, nudging.

Fine.

“Suzie? My name is Eliza. I’m one of the people looking for Brooklyn.”

She inhales a shuddering breath. Tears still track heavily down her face.

“What happened with Brooklyn, sweetheart?”

“At Brownies on Wednesday . . . ,” she starts with another sniffle. The principal silently hands her another tissue. “. . . I took her second cookie. And I pushed her and called her a crybaby when she said she was gonna tell.” She cringes, clearly waiting to be scolded.

“Suzie, I’m not here to yell at you. You already know that was wrong; that’s why you feel bad about it. What happened next?”

“After the meeting, we went to her house and Mrs. Mercer made us dinner. My grandma had to work late, so Mrs. Mercer offered to watch me. But after dinner, Brooklyn went up to her room and closed the door. So I told Mrs. Mercer that Brooklyn stole my cookies at the meeting. I just wanted her to have to come out, but her mom told her she had to stay in her room and think about what she did. It was hours till Grandma got there. Mrs. Mercer let me watch a movie, but . . .”

“But you were lonely.”

She nods and sniffles again. At least she’s not using her sleeve. “Rebecca went home early. Yesterday, I mean. Brooklyn was all alone at recess, so I pushed her off the swing and told her no one wanted her around anyway, and she should just go away. I told her . . . I told her . . .”

“It’s okay, Suzie. Just talk to us.”

“I said her parents were going to send her away, but her grandparents didn’t want her either, and that’s why they’re always fighting. I said she should just run away, and everyone would be happier. And she did. Brooklyn’s gone, and everyone’s scared, and it’s all my fault!” She falls back into full-on, body-shaking sobs.

The older woman hurries around the table, gently pushing the principal out of the way so she can wrap Suzie in a hug. She rocks slowly, making small, meaningless sounds, letting Suzie cry.

I pull out my work cell and text Watts, tagging Ramirez in it as well. Ask Mercers—has Brooklyn ever tried to run away before? Also, are Mercers and grandparents fighting? Don’t know which grandparents.

Paternal grandparents, Watts replies quickly. We’re looking into it.

Ramirez’s answer takes a little longer, but then, it is longer. Alice says Brooklyn and Rebecca tried to run away to the circus two years ago because they wanted to be acrobats but their parents said not yet to gymnastics lessons. They convinced Daniel to take them. He led them around the back of the neighborhood until they were tired and hungry, brought them home. Only attempt, everyone had a pretty good laugh about it, sounds like.