The farther backward you
can look, the farther forward you can see.
—Winston Churchill
9
Twenty minutes after we’d made that
dizzying exit off the freeway, we were strolling up to the first
house, not far from Debbie Richardson’s home, our ruse all figured
out, props in hand. It just so happened that Gabe’s junk in his
trunk had a purpose. My computer had come in handy too. We learned
there was a local zoning issue that some folks were trying to get
on the next fall’s election ballot. They needed signatures. We
needed a reason to go door-to-door. It was a perfect excuse. We
printed out some fake forms at a nearby library and headed
out.
After we’d visited twenty homes,
however, we realized we had a big problem. A good two-thirds of the
female residents in the area fit the description of our next
victim.
After we’d talked to our twenty-first
brunette, aged thirty-something, I decided we were wasting time.
Precious, irretrievable minutes. I wasn’t sure Gabe agreed with
me.
“Now what?” At an intersection, I
dropped the clipboard on the grass and plopped on my butt on the
curb. So what if I looked ridiculous as I sat on the ground? My
feet were killing me. I was exhausted. And I was more frustrated
than I’d ever been in my life. “I’m going to need foot surgery
after today.”
“Go ahead and rest for a few. I’ll take
the next couple of houses solo.” Gabe loped down the sidewalk, with
that loose-hipped swagger I hated so much.
A minute later, a little girl wearing a
plastic firefighter’s hat, rubber boots, and a tutu came rolling up
from the opposite direction on a plastic three-wheeled bike. She
skidded to a stop at the end of the sidewalk and asked, “Who are
you?”
“I’m a stranger,” I answered. I’ve
never been a big fan of kids. Right now, I wasn’t in the mood to
change that. “Didn’t your mother tell you not to talk to
strangers?”
“Yeah.” She shrugged, gave me an
up-and-down assessing look. “You don’t look so dangerous, though.
What are you doing?”
“Working,” I answered, not bothering to
argue with her about the dangerous thing.
“You couldn’t be working too hard.
You’re sitting down.”
“I’m just taking a break for a few
minutes.”
“Oh.” The kid climbed off her bike,
pointed at the clipboard sitting on the grass. “Are you selling
something? My mom hates it when people come to our door, selling
stuff. She pretends we’re not home.”
“I do that too ... sometimes.” I kicked
off my shoes and rubbed my right foot. My toes were numb. That
couldn’t be good.
“Tutu Girl” pursed her little lips. I
tried not to notice how cute she was. “That’s lying. My mom tells
me lying’s bad.”
“Yeah, well, there are times when lying
isn’t such a bad thing.” My arch cramped and I gritted my teeth and
stretched my foot. “Anyway, don’t you have a ... a play date or
something?”
“No. Everyone’s at day camp or in day
care. I’m bored.” She kicked a rock. It skittered down the
sidewalk. “I used to go to day care every day, but my mom quit her
job. Now we stay home all the time. But next year I’ll be in
kindergarten.” She pointed down the street, in the general
direction from which we’d come. “My best friend, Veronica—she’s in
third grade. She lives in that house, down there. But she’s gone.
She went to summer camp with Julia even though it doesn’t start for
two whole weeks. Her mommy’s all alone now, and she got mean. So I
can’t play there.” She leaned close. “I think her mommy’s sad she’s
gone.”
“I bet she’s very sad. I would be,” I
lied. I’d always told myself I’d have no kids. Kids were a bad idea
for me, for so many reasons. For one, I have no patience
whatsoever. And two, I was doing the world a favor by not passing
down my DNA to future generations.
“I have an idea.” My new friend plopped
her little tutu-clad butt next to mine. “How about I help you? I
know everyone on the street. I know who’s at home and who’s not.
They won’t be able to pretend they’re not home.”
“Thanks for the offer, but I think
we’re just about done. It’s getting late.”
Gabe was heading back. He was looking a
little defeated now too.
After eyeballing Tutu Girl, Gabe said,
“This is getting us nowhere.”
“I totally agree. But what do we do
next?”
“You could come to my house,” my new
friend suggested, adjusting her plastic helmet. “I have money. In a
soup can. I’ve been saving for a new bear at
Build-A-Bear.”
I grabbed my clipboard and slid my feet
back into my shoes. “Thanks, kiddo, but we couldn’t take your
money. We’re not selling anything, anyway.”
“Running ... hmm ...”
Standing next to me, Gabe stared off
into the distance. The setting sun created deep shadows across his
face, emphasizing the angle of his cheekbones. He looked older.
More mature. More dangerous than I’d ever seen him. Nothing like
the little punk I’d known since high school.
“You said one of the victims jogged in
the morning?”
Begrudgingly, I pushed up to my feet.
“Yeah, Laura Miller did and ... ?”
“My mommy goes jogging sometimes,” Tutu
Girl said. “She pushes me in a big stroller. But I’m not a
baby.”
“I wonder if the other two victims were
joggers too. Did you find that out?” Gabe asked.
“Victims?” Tutu Girl
echoed.
“No. We didn’t make it to the other
victims’ homes today. We were supposed to, but instead, we took a
little detour to the hospital.” I motioned toward the car, parked a
quarter of a mile or so away. “We were following up on Fischer’s
notes. I hadn’t read them all yet. He keeps very ... detailed
notes. If they were joggers, you can bet we’ll find it in the
file.”
“At least that would help us narrow
things down a little. Let’s go.” Gabe took long strides toward the
car.
I gave Tutu Girl a little wave and
followed Gabe, my heels click-clacking on
the cement with every step.
And with every step, I gritted my
teeth. The agony. I would never wear high heels to work
again.
Behind me, I heard the rumble of
plastic rolling on cement, the rhythmic thunk,
thunk, thunk of the big front wheel hitting the cracks in
the sidewalk. It seemed we were being followed. By one very curious
firefighter/ballerina.
We crossed the street.
The sound stopped.
I glanced back. The kid was sitting on
her bike, at the corner. Probably wasn’t allowed to cross the
street. She looked across the chasm between us, her eyes dark. For
just a moment, I thought I was looking at myself as a child.
Desperate for companionship. I smiled, and she smiled back. I
waved, and she waved back. She dragged her little bike around the
other way, climbed aboard and thunk-thunk-thunked her way back toward
home.
I hurried to the car, dug out Fischer’s
notes, and sat down to read them. There was no mention of either
Debbie Richardson or Hannah Grant taking a morning jog. To
double-check, we called the contact person for each. They verified
that neither was a jogger, walker, or cyclist. We had hit a
wall.
“Damn it.” I glanced at the clock, then
at my throbbing feet.
“I was so sure... .” Gabe gave my
shoulder a little shake.
“We’ve just wasted ... how much time?
Maybe we should’ve met up with Fischer, after all.”
“We did what we thought was best.” Gabe
started the car and shifted it into gear.
“We made a mistake.” I watched out the
window as the car rolled down the street. I watched Tutu Girl pedal
her little bike down the sidewalk, and I wondered why she was
outside so late. Fireflies were twinkling like little stars in the
deepening shadows. This was the hour a preschooler should be safe
and cozy, tucked in her bed, in her home, with a storybook and a
teddy bear.
Down the street, we continued. Around a
corner. Past Debbie Richardson’s house. The porch light was on. And
another light shined through an upstairs window.
It hit me then. Tutu Girl had been
talking about someone named Julia. It could be the
Julia, Debbie Richardson’s daughter. We hadn’t talked to her
yet. She hadn’t made it home from camp when we’d interviewed Trey
Chapman. I doubted the teenager would be staying in the house
alone, but it looked like somebody was in the house. I tapped
Gabe’s shoulder. “Go back.”
“Huh?” He hit the brakes, stopping the
car in the middle of the street.
I opened the car door and scrambled
out, heading back toward the house. I had no idea what I’d say to
her if she was there. I had no idea what questions I needed to ask.
But I wanted to talk to her.
I was on the porch before Gabe had
turned the car around. I knocked. No answer. I knocked again. Still
nothing. I told myself the lights were probably left on to make the
house look occupied. That’s what people in the burbs did. But just
for the hell of it, I knocked a third time.
Inside, I heard a thump. My heart
started to pound. What if I’d caught a burglar? What if ...
?
The door swung open, and a disheveled
teen girl gave me a perplexed look. “Yeah?”
“Hi, are you Julia
Richardson?”
“Um ...” The girl glanced behind her.
She combed her fingers through her blond hair.
“Maybe.”
“My name is Sloan Skye. I work for the
FBI. We’re working on a case—”
“FBI?” The girl, who I was 99 percent
sure was Julia Richardson, gnawed on her thumbnail. “What’s the FBI
investigating around here?”
“It’s a complicated matter.” I heard
Gabe’s footsteps behind me. “This is Gabe Wagner. Can we ask you a
few questions?”
“Um. Hang on.” Julia shut the door.
Behind it, we heard shuffling. The muffled sound of a male’s voice.
The slam of a door. Then the front door opened again, and Julia,
looking a little less nervous—and a little less disheveled—stepped
aside and waved us in. She gathered her hair over her shoulder,
almost covering the ginormous flaming-red hickey on her neck. “I
just came home to grab a few things. I’m staying with my dad now...
.”
“Thanks for talking to us.” I moved
toward the staircase, giving Gabe some room to come inside. There
was no male in sight. Romeo was probably hiding upstairs somewhere.
Naked. “I apologize if this is a bad time. I saw the lights and
thought I’d take a chance and see if someone was
home.”
“I guess it’s your lucky day.” Julia
shrugged.
And some horny boy’s—if that love
nibble was any indication. “We won’t take up much of your time.”
Trying not to judge the teenager for messing around with a punk so
soon after her mother’s death, I pulled out my little notebook.
People handled grief in strange ways sometimes, especially kids.
She was probably trying to hide from the pain. Or numb it. “We were
told you were away at camp when your mother became
ill.”
“Yep.”
“When did you leave?”
“A couple of weeks before she ...
died.” Julia’s eyes reddened. She blinked, sniffled. And the
teenager who’d seemed so grown-up and sure of herself suddenly
looked small and vulnerable. She fingered the mark on her neck,
shifted her weight from one foot to the other, and stared at the
floor.
“I’m sorry.” I touched her arm. She
flinched ever so slightly. “Nothing’s going to bring her back, I
know. But we’re trying very hard to find out what happened to your
mother, to give you answers.” A tear slipped from Julia’s eye as
she blinked. “Did you notice anything different or unusual about
your mother before you left?”
“ No.”
“Were you in contact with her after you
left?”
“Yeah, she insisted on calling me every
other night.”
That was good news.
“Had she changed anything? Habits?
Hobbies? Interests? Was she acting different in any
way?”
After taking a moment to think about my
question, Julia shook her head. “No. Nothing.”
“What about people close to her?
Friends? Coworkers? Family? Did she mention anyone acting
strangely?”
“No.” Julia grimaced. “I’m sorry. I
can’t think of anything. It was all so sudden. I didn’t see it
coming.”
“That’s okay.”
Julia’s scarlet-tinted eyes found mine.
“Do you really think someone did this to her? That she was
killed?”
“At this point, we’re not ruling out
anything.” I scribbled my cell phone number on an empty notebook
page and tore it out. I handed it to Julia. “If you think of
anything, or notice anything, give me a call. Even if it’s
something small, even if you’re not sure it’s anything at
all.”
“Okay.” Julia glanced at the paper
before folding it into a tiny square and shoving it into her jeans
pocket.
I headed to the door. Gabe stepped out
before I did. I said a final thank-you and trotted down the front
walk, trying hard to disguise the pain I felt with every step.
Julia stood there, at the door, watching us, looking like she
wanted to tell us something. I thought about going back, asking her
if some stray thought was nagging her. Before I could, she closed
the door.
Back at the car, I sank into the
passenger seat and gently pried my shoes off my swollen feet. “We
have absolutely nothing. Not a single clue. Damn it.”
“It was worth a shot.” Gabe gave me a
little nudge on the shoulder. “You’re letting this case get to
you.”
“Do you think Fischer found anything at
the lab?” I asked, ignoring his comment. He was right. I was
letting the case get to me.
“I’ll call him and find
out.”
I sat and tried to get the blood
flowing to my toes while Gabe called Fischer. Before Fischer had
even answered, I watched Julia sprint out of the house, alone, drop
a duffel bag in the backseat of the car parked in the street, and
drive off.
Where’d she leave the boy? Or had I
just imagined she’d had company?
“Was it me, or did you think she had
company?” I asked, figuring Gabe hadn’t gotten Fischer on the line
yet.
“I bet she sneaked him out the back
door. Probably guessed we’d be watching the house.”
“Hmm, maybe.”
“Obviously, you’ve never sneaked a boy
into your house?”
“No comment.” It was beyond awkward
talking about this with Gabe. My face felt like I’d been sunbathing
on Mercury. “What’s going on with Fischer?” I asked, intentionally
steering our conversation back to safer territory.
“I’m not getting an
answer.”
“Damn.”
He shoved the key into the ignition and
cranked it.
“Where do you want to go
next?”
He shrugged as he shifted the car into
gear and pulled away from the curb. “I don’t know. Anywhere but
back to the office.”
“Okay.” I scooped up the file and
started flipping through the pages inside. “It’s getting late, but
I guess we could try to finish up what JT and I started this
morning.”
“Okay.” Gabe looked my way after
stopping the car at a light. “Where to, then?”
“We were tailing Laura Miller’s trail.
She’d stopped at the Einstein Brothers Bagels a short distance from
where she’d collapsed. We’ve already been there. Our next stop was
where she was found.”
“Then that’s where we’ll head next.
We’ll just keep going all night, until something comes
up.”
“If something
comes up.” I sighed, knowing it was going to be one long
night.