When You See Me (Detective D.D. Warren #11)(113)

Flora tells me it’s okay to be scared. She says I must talk about it and not hold it inside. Fear is natural, but I should always remember that I am strong. All survivors are strong, and no one can take that from us.

People have vanished.

Not girls this time. Townsfolk, business owners. Here, then—when the FBI goes to raid their homes—gone.

Dorothea’s computer includes names, D.D. explains to me one day. Many are local. Some are from around the world.

She and Kimberly are not concerned about the ones who’ve fled. D.D. tells me they will catch them all in the end. The ripples from this case—bodies in the woods, names in the computer—it will take years to unravel.

But that’s the FBI’s job. I don’t have to do anything. They have Franny and Dorothea and other guilty parties and piles of evidence to help them out.

It’s my job to be a girl now. Not a stupid girl. Just . . . a teenager. One who will go to school, and study speech and maybe make new friends, like Alex and Jack and Kiko.

I’ve never been a child before. I don’t know if it’s hard or not, but I would like to try.

I cry at night. I have bad dreams. I wake up, maybe trying to scream, but of course there is no sound.

Flora tells me she does the same, and she’s been rescued for seven years. She assures me it gets easier. I will learn about me, and what I need to get to the other side.

I have never been me before either.

Flora loves Keith. They never say anything, but we all know. They blush when the other walks into the room. I like how they smile radiantly. It brings a lightness to my chest.

I think I understand what Flora is trying to teach me. It won’t be all better right away. But someday, it will be all better.

We have been staying at our same motel. After the Last Stand at the Mountain Laurel and the string of arrests, the motel manager has been very nice to us. He swears he never wanted us to leave, but had received a threatening note. It turns out many people knew Clayton, and most were scared of him.

D.D. must return to Boston soon. She misses her family and needs them. I can’t go just yet. There is paperwork that must be in order. I don’t know how you put paperwork in order, but Kimberly assures me it can be done. In the meantime, Flora and Keith will stay with me.

Flora is arranging the burial of a man named Walt Davies. I didn’t know him. I don’t really know most locals, just the guests that stayed at the hotel. Apparently, Walt was the father of Flora’s bad man. But she says Walt was good in the end and tried to help her, help me.

She is sad when she talks about him, but then her mood shifts and becomes sharp. I can’t decide on colors for Flora. Sometimes, I think she’s all different shades on different days.

Maybe because she is still learning to be herself. She says if she can do it, anyone can.

I talk to Flora and Keith with pictures. Which is to say, I don’t talk much. I listen a lot. I like to listen to people who are actually speaking to me. Who look me in the eye and care about my reaction. We’re all getting good at charades; plus I get to draw. As much as I like, as often as I like.

The speech lady tells me my pictures are very good. She has a friend who displays artwork. She would like to introduce me to her.

I want to find my mother.

The Bad Man killed her. I know that. I was able to draw that for my friends. But I don’t know what happened after that. I have a special picture in my photo boards. The therapist lady helped me make it. It’s like one of the emojis I have learned about, except I designed this one with my mother’s eyes and my mother’s hair.

I touch it first thing in the morning and last thing before I go to bed. And I feel her, silvery and warm in the air around me.

I show her picture often to Flora and D.D. I make my questioning face. We are all getting good at this.

D.D. figured out first what I wanted. She says they haven’t been able to find any records. Of my birth, or my mother. But they have been retracing the Bad Man’s life. They know he ran a business in New Mexico. There are legal records. Now they are working on the illegal stuff. He is dead, and witnesses will come forward. She tells me they will have information soon.

The FBI out there have already started hunting. Sooner or later, they will find a stretch of desert, dotted with bones just like in the mountains. My mother will be one of them. They will carefully lift her from the red dirt and bring her home to me. Her name is Flora Dane. She is a survivor and my mentor.

Her name is D. D. Warren. She is a detective and my protector.

Her name is Kimberly Quincy. She is an FBI agent and the person who will bring all my lost sisters justice.

My name is Bonita. I am pretty. I am strong.

I am my mother’s daughter. Always.





ACKNOWLEDGMENTS





I started this book with barely a wisp of an idea—what would it be like to be an abducted child with no ability to speak, read, or write? I contacted my dear friend and gifted speech therapist, JoAnn Kelly, MS, CCC-SLP, from Children Unlimited Inc. She walked me through the basics of speech aphasia, then introduced me to storyboards and other communication techniques for nonverbal children. It is due to her that Bonita is such a gifted artist and D.D. figured out text emojis. Thank you, JoAnn!

This puzzle then led me to Executive Director Liz Kelley-Scott, and forensic interviewer Beth D’Angelo of the Child Advocacy Center of Carroll County, in order to learn how to conduct a forensic interview of a nonverbal witness. According to them, I’d just created their worst nightmare. Yay, me! But they had some excellent ideas on the subject, which I fully appreciated. Thank you, Liz, Beth, and of course, therapy dog extraordinaire, Westin. They provided hope for D.D. and Kimberly in dealing with their new charge, Bonita.