When You See Me (Detective D.D. Warren #11)(34)

And free help is hard to find, D.D. thought uncharitably. She looked over at the wall, but the girl remained expressionless. It was hard to tell if she’d registered the conversation, much less understood it.

The mayor pulled out a chair for his wife, placing her next to the sheriff. He rounded the table to take the seat next to D.D., where she noticed he could look the sheriff in the eye.

“I take it the rumors are true; you found another body yesterday,” the mayor drawled at last.

D.D. sipped her coffee, let the sheriff do the talking.

“Yes, sir. We found additional remains, not far from the original site.”

“Oh my goodness.” Martha covered her mouth with her hand, glanced at her husband with concern.

Mayor Howard sighed heavily. “Another girl? That’s terrible. Simply terrible.”

“How do you know it’s a girl?” D.D. asked.

“Isn’t it always?” He eyed her guilelessly.

D.D. couldn’t figure him out.

“Where are you from, dear?” he asked her now.

“Boston.”

“But you’re here, part of some taskforce, searching through my woods. Now how did that come to pass? A Boston detective on a Southern taskforce?”

“I have relevant experience,” D.D. said blithely. She was saved from further reply by the mayor’s wife.

“Was this new body . . . also a skeleton?” She whispered the final word, as if it was something shocking and terrible. Maybe it was and D.D. had just been doing this too long.

“We’re still conducting our investigation, ma’am. The forensic anthropologist is on-site as we speak.”

“Oh dear. All this sad, sordid business. Right here. In our own backyard.” Martha eyed her husband in distress. “And just in time for fall hiking season. Oh dear, oh dear.”

“Have you learned anything more about the first girl?” the mayor asked Sheriff Smithers.

“Only that she’d been there for quite some time.”

“How long have you been mayor?” D.D. spoke up.

“The past ten years,” Howard replied evenly.

“And before that?”

“My daddy. The Counsels have a long history of service to this town.”

“Do you hire a lot of young girls?” D.D. glanced at their “niece,” who still stood unmoving next to the wall.

“Of course,” Martha huffed out. “Especially for the busy summer season. As you can tell, our town is small. During boom seasons, we must bring in outside workers. But all of our employees are legal, if that’s what you’re asking, and we have the paperwork to prove it.”

D.D. nodded thoughtfully. What the Counsels said made sense. On the one hand, Niche was a quaint small town where the full-time residents probably did know one another by name. On the other hand, for significant portions of the year, the workforce was transient and the area flooded with tourists. Getting a bead on all those people, going back fifteen years, would not be easy.

Which brought her to the locals, as good a starting point as any. She rose abruptly. “Excuse me, I need to use the restroom.”

“I’ll show you—”

“No need. I’m sure your niece knows the way.” Before anyone could blink she had the girl by the elbow and was guiding her away from the wall and out of the room. The girl stumbled slightly and D.D. forced herself to slow down, walk calmly. Just another woman in search of a toilet.

She could feel the girl’s arms tremble beneath her fingers, but the girl didn’t—couldn’t?—say a word.

Out of curiosity, D.D. removed her hand once they’d left the room and waited to see what the girl would do. The girl didn’t make a run for it. Instead, she turned left, entered the hallway behind the staircase, then a moment later limped to a door marked Ladies.

D.D. studied the young maid. So the girl could understand things, she just couldn’t communicate. Which made D.D. think she wasn’t nearly as impaired as the Counsels claimed.

“Are you okay here?” D.D. asked softly.

The girl locked her gaze at a spot past D.D.’s shoulder. Didn’t make a sound.

“Can you speak?”

The girl’s lips pursed. For a moment, it appeared as if she were trying to whistle, make a noise. But nothing came out. She resumed staring at the wall.

“Can you type?” On impulse, D.D. dug out her cell, then pulled up a text message screen. She indicated to the tiny letters. “Pick one. Type what you want to say.”

The girl looked at the phone, then took it gingerly from D.D.’s hands, turning it over. She seemed genuinely curious. Eyeing the letters, the blinking cursor. Her fingers fluttered across the screen, almost in longing. Then she shook her head, appearing genuinely frustrated, and handed the phone back.

A full minute had passed. Much longer and Martha would appear to see what was keeping them.

“I think you know things,” D.D. tried again. “Much more than you let on.”

The girl inhaled slightly, which D.D. took to be a yes.

“When I go back, we have to ask the Counsels some questions. I’d like your answers, too.”

Brown eyes widened in alarm.

“No, no, there’s nothing to be afraid of. This is what we’re going to do. Stand where you usually do, arms by your sides. When I ask questions, show one finger for yes.” D.D. held up one finger. “Two for no. What is yes?”