Her Silent Cry

Four

The teenager in charge of the carousel sat in his tiny ticket booth at the entrance to the ride, his face peeking out the small window, watching the commotion with wide, frightened eyes. He stepped out as Josie and Gretchen approached.

“What’s your name?” Gretchen asked him.

He held a bright red ballcap in his hands. His fingers worked the bill into a U shape. Dark hair hung over his eyes. He gave a quick flick of his head to his left, shaking the locks out of his face. “Logan,” he said.

Gretchen introduced herself and Josie. “How old are you, Logan?”

He shifted from foot to foot. “Eighteen.”

So they could speak to him without having to contact a parent or guardian. Before either of them could pose another question, he asked, “Did you—did you find her yet?”

“No, not yet,” Josie said.

“You want me to keep the ride closed?”

“Yes,” Gretchen said. “Until we know what we’re dealing with here.”

“Logan,” Josie said as she pulled her phone out, holding Harris against her with one arm while awkwardly using her other hand to enter her password and pull up the photo of Lucy Ross she’d had Amy text her. She turned the screen toward him. “Do you remember seeing this girl on the carousel?”

He studied the photo. “I guess. I mean, a ton of kids get on this ride during the day. It’s hard to remember them all.”

Josie asked, “What time did you get here today?”

“Like, noon.”

Josie checked the time on her phone. It was almost four-thirty in the afternoon. Gretchen asked, “And how long are you supposed to keep the carousel open?”

“Till six.”

“How long have you been working here?” Josie asked.

“Like, three weeks.”

Josie showed him Lucy’s photo again. “Do you remember seeing this girl or not?”

His fingers curled the bill of the hat again. “Yeah, she had on a colorful backpack, like, a bug or something.”

Josie looked at Gretchen. “That’s right. She had one on. It was small and looked like a stuffed butterfly, but it was a backpack.”

Gretchen said, “You saw her get on the carousel. Did you see her get off?”

He shook his head. “Nah, I was taking the tickets from the people in line waiting to get on. I didn’t know anything was wrong until her mom started yelling her name.”

“At that point, you turned back toward the carousel,” Josie said. “Did you see her at all?”

“No. I’m really sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Gretchen said. She nodded toward the carousel. “Do you mind?”

“Oh, yeah, sure.”

He led them through the small fenced area where prospective riders waited. He reached over the gate and unlocked it, holding it open to let them pass through. He stood just inside the gate while Josie and Gretchen stepped onto the carousel platform.

“Are there any cameras at all?” Josie asked.

“No. We don’t have any cameras.”

With a sigh, Gretchen added, “And there aren’t any in the city park.”

“Right,” Josie said. “Not enough crime to warrant cameras.”

Shifting Harris again, Josie weaved through the colorful horses. “I talked with them before they got on,” she told Gretchen. “Here, this is the one she was on. It’s the same as the one in the photo.”

“And Amy was on one of the horses as well?” Gretchen said.

“Right. This one, I think.”

The horse Josie had seen Amy lingering near when she was confronting the crowd of onlookers was next to Lucy’s horse but slightly in front of it. “The ride was full,” Josie added.

Gretchen turned in a complete circle. “Okay, so let’s say she’s slightly behind her mom. The ride starts to slow down to a stop. She hops down from the horse and takes off.” She pointed to the exit gate. “She could easily have made it out.”

“No one saw her,” Josie said. “No one saw her exit, and no one saw her in the playground after.”

“No one was looking,” Gretchen pointed out. She gestured toward Harris. “You were here with him. How many boys with dark hair did you see in the playground today?”

“I have no idea.”

“Any of them wearing… let’s say… a blue shirt?”

“I don’t know,” Josie said. “I see your point.”

“Everyone on this ride and everyone in the playground was focused on their own kids. Even if she had run out, it’s quite possible no one noticed.”

“Which is why the other parents’ photos will be helpful.”

They both looked over to the cluster of parents and their restive children. All of them had their phones out, as did the two officers assigned to the group. Josie knew they would ask the parents to text them any photos or videos they had, and they’d give all of it a cursory review.

“We should talk to the kids, too,” Josie said. “They might have been more likely to notice Lucy.”

“Yes,” Gretchen agreed. “We should.”

As they angled around the horses to the outer edge of the carousel, something on the column in the center caught Josie’s eye. “Wait,” she said.

She went back toward the center of the ride. The column was wide, made of thick wood panels adorned with ornate molding and covered in oil paintings of landscapes; fields with farmhouses in the distance, old mills next to waterfalls, and gardens rife with colorful flowers. Josie ran her fingers alongside the edge of one of the panels. “Gretchen,” she said. “This is a door.”

Gretchen came closer, beckoning Logan to follow. Toward the lower end of the panel was a latch and a small knob painted the same bright red as the wood around it. Josie wouldn’t have noticed it had she not been so close to it. She tugged on the knob and the panel opened like a door.

Logan said, “Uh, you can’t go in there.”

Josie and Gretchen shot him stern looks. He smiled, his face flushed red. “Oh, right. You’re the police.”

Josie handed Harris over to Gretchen. He was awake now, but in that post-nap state where he was content not to do much but observe things quietly. She stepped into the column. Small wooden squares were spaced out along the floor—close enough together for her to walk on but far enough apart that she could see beneath them where metal poles ran from the center of the inner wheel out to the vertical poles that controlled the horses. Above her head were more poles reaching out toward the ride’s edges. Across from her was one small shelf built into the back of one of the panels with what looked like a small, black tool bag on top of it.

Logan poked his head in behind her. “That belongs to my boss,” he said. “It’s in case he needs to tighten things up or whatever.”

On closer inspection, Josie saw that the bag was old and well-used. Its zipper hung open, and inside she could see a few wrenches and screwdrivers. She turned to Logan. “Is the door always open? Does it lock?”

“It’s always open,” he said. “I mean, as far as I know. No one really comes in here. No one even notices the door, I don’t think.”

Josie took one last look around, but she didn’t see any sign of Lucy, or any sign that any person had recently been inside the column. Stepping back out, she took Harris from Gretchen’s arms.

“JoJo, I’m thirsty,” he said.

“I know, buddy,” she said. “I’m going to call your mom to come get you. She should be on her way to my house right now.”

They thanked Logan, instructed him not to let anyone else inside the perimeter and walked over to the small crowd of parents. The uniformed officers hadn’t yet found any signs of Lucy on the photos and videos the parents had provided. While Josie contacted Misty and asked her to come to the park instead of Josie’s home to pick up Harris, Gretchen got consent from the parents to address the school-age children. She had them sit on the grass in a circle and she told them that a little girl named Lucy had gotten lost in the park after riding the carousel. She passed around Josie’s phone with the photo of Lucy on the screen. Josie watched them hand the phone around the circle. She estimated the youngest of them to be four years old and the oldest somewhere around ten. Three of them remembered seeing Lucy at the playground. One even remembered seeing her on the carousel ride with her mother, but none of them had seen her once the ride stopped.

As the gathering of parents and children dispersed, Misty DeRossi appeared at the playground’s main entrance. Josie’s boyfriend, Lieutenant Noah Fraley, trailed behind her, moving rapidly on a pair of crutches. It had been about a month since he broke his leg jumping from the upper window of a burning building.

“Mommeee!” Harris cried, reaching for Misty as she got closer. She took him from Josie and hugged him tightly.

“Noah wanted me to bring him,” Misty explained. “I was already at your house when you called me. You sounded like something was wrong.”

Noah reached them a second later. “A kid went missing?” he asked.

Josie explained the situation to both of them.

Misty said, “Are you sure she just ran off?”

All three of them had been deeply scarred by the missing girls’ case that had rocked the city of Denton three years earlier. Any reminder of it was difficult to process. “I don’t know,” Josie answered honestly. “But I want to stay and help with the search.”

“Of course,” Misty agreed.

They said their goodbyes and she headed off with Harris. Noah stood in place, leaning on his crutches. Josie said, “You didn’t have to come.”

He smiled. “I can find a way to make myself useful.”

Josie spotted a bench near the entrance to the play area. “Come on,” she told him. “You can monitor who goes in and out while we search.”