Pretty Girls Dancing(106)

That part was all a bit hazy, but it got clearer every time she saw Agent Foster. Despite what her dad said, she didn’t mind talking to the man. He was the only one she could speak to freely, without worrying that she’d upset him. And it didn’t hurt that when he smiled, he looked a bit like Orlando Bloom. “Thanks for coming, Mr. Foster.” She was suddenly aware that her hair had been washed only once since she’d been rescued, and her face and arms were still a rainbow of bruises. “I had my mom call you because I think I remembered something else.”

Her mom smoothed back her hair. “It’s Agent Foster, honey.”

“Hi, Whitney.” He approached the bed and smiled down at her “And I’m a mister, too, so it’s okay.”

“I was sort of dozing yesterday afternoon. They wake you up all the time at night, so you can’t really sleep for long. When I was dropping off, I half dreamed about when I escaped. When he caught me.”

“Oh, Whit, it’s okay.” On cue, her mom reacted. Took her hand. “Don’t think about that. You’re safe now.”

“I know, Mom.” With a mixture of love and exasperation, she squeezed her mom’s hand. “But you have to let me talk. It’s probably not good to keep trying to get me to bottle things up, right?” At least that sounded like something the therapist on staff had told her when she’d talked to the woman. Whitney saw the agent’s mouth twitch, as if he was trying to hide a smile. “But I remembered something the freak said when he was choking me. ‘I’ve given you so many chances. And always you disappoint me, Margaret.’”

“Margaret? You’re sure?” Agent Foster’s expression had gone still.

“I’m sure. I just didn’t remember it until last night. Does that help?”

“It really does.”

Whitney pleated the sheet with her fingers. “Do you . . . was Margaret another girl he kidnapped?” No one wanted to tell her anything, but she’d overheard the nurses whispering a couple of times when they thought she was sleeping. Whitney and Kelsey hadn’t been the only ones the monster had taken. There had been a lot of them. A chill skittered down her spine, and she was suddenly glad her mom was by her side.

“No, Whitney, Margaret was his sister. The one you told me about, remember?”

She’d repeated all the personal revelations the man had made in their conversations. “So he was thinking about her when he was choking me?” Her mom looked like she was going to cry at the reminder. Whitney heard her dad’s voice in the hall. Knew she didn’t have much more time. She met the agent’s gaze. “Will you tell me the truth about something?” She saw his gaze flick to her mother. Back to Whitney. “Did you find Kelsey Willard? Is she . . . is she okay?”

His silence and that of her mom was all the answer she needed. Whitney raised a hand to wipe away the tears that sprang up as the realization hit her. “She’s dead?” She honestly didn’t know if she would have had the courage to escape if she hadn’t found the other girl’s writings. She’d told her mom all about it, over and over again. Knowing that another had experienced the same thing she was going through . . . and hadn’t broken had given Whitney strength when she’d needed it most.

“Yes.” Agent Foster’s voice was gentle.

She sniffled like a little kid, and her mom handed her a tissue. It was hard to sit here and wonder why she got to go home again and Kelsey had never gotten the chance. Whitney knew it would be a long time before she stopped feeling guilty about that. “She was really brave.”

“Yes, she was. And so were you.”

She wiped her eyes again at the agent’s words. She’d always be sad about Kelsey, even as she was grateful about being rescued. “Thanks again for finding me.”





Janie Willard

November 21

9:30 a.m.

“Janie?” When the dark-haired man paused next to her table in the coffee shop, Alyvia and Cole got up from their chairs across from her and beelined for a nearby booth. She stifled a feeling of abandonment and sized up the agent addressing her. Recognized him from a couple of glimpses she’d gotten when he’d been in her home.

“Yes.”

Agent Mark Foster pulled out one of the chairs at the table. Sank into it. “Thanks for meeting with me.”

“How’d you get my number?” She hadn’t recognized the caller on the screen of her cell last night, so she hadn’t answered it. When she’d listened to the voice mail he’d left, she’d been shocked. But intrigued, too. He hadn’t given a reason for wanting to speak to her. He hadn’t needed to. Because she needed to talk to him as well and see if she could get some answers no one else seemed willing to give.

“I got it from Sergeant Rossi at the sheriff’s office.”

That figured. She’d had to put all her contact information on the statement she’d written out for them. Janie clutched her large plastic coffee cup and raised it to her lips, requiring fortification before she could even formulate the questions she had. But he spoke first.

“I wanted to apologize to you personally.”

It was the last thing she’d been expecting. “For arresting my dad?” She wasn’t sure it was in her to forgive the man for that. They’d still been reeling from the discovery of Kelsey’s body. To watch her dad taken away in handcuffs for her murder had been devastating, even though he’d been held only a short time.