Her Silent Cry

Seven

At last Amy went home to get some sleep and Gretchen sent a female officer with her. Colin stayed at the tent, silent and shell-shocked, sitting in a chair in the corner as other officers came in and out to report to Gretchen and get coffee. With Mettner mediating, the parents had agreed that they would take shifts sleeping so that one of them was always at the park in case Lucy was found. The sheriff’s K-9 unit arrived, and Gretchen went out into the playground with the deputy and his German Shepherd. The dog’s handler took him onto the carousel, next to the blue horse where Lucy was last seen and let him smell Lucy’s shirt before setting him loose. The dog sniffed all around the platform. He sniffed the column in the center of the carousel, then sniffed around the outer part of the ride between the fence and the platform. Nose pressed to the ground, he exited the gate surrounding the ride and veered right, going to the fence that separated the park from the sidewalk. There, he sat, issuing a short bark. The handler marked the section of fence and walked the dog to the other side of the fence where Lucy’s scent picked up again. Nose to the pavement, the dog traveled another twenty feet or so and sat again, silent this time.

Josie walked up to where Gretchen stood with the handler.

“The scent stops here,” the handler said. “It’s on both sides of the fence.”

“Which means what?” Gretchen asked.

The handler shrugged. “Not sure. But because it wasn’t continuous from inside the park, along the fence to the pavement and outside the park, it could mean someone picked her up and hoisted her over the fence—or she hopped the fence herself. Then it stops here completely on the sidewalk. Usually when the scent stops abruptly, it’s because the person got into a vehicle.”

Gretchen said, “You think she was abducted?”

The handler replied, “I can’t make that determination. I can only tell you that her scent was in the park, on the carousel and it ends here. Like I said, when the scent stops, it’s usually because the person got into a vehicle and left the area.”

Gretchen jotted something down in her notebook and thanked the handler. Together, they trudged back to the tent. Josie said, “Someone took her.”

Gretchen said, “It appears that way, but how did she get from the carousel to the sidewalk without anyone seeing anything at all?”

“We have to be missing something,” Josie said.

Inside the tent, Colin was still there, arms folded over his body, his chin resting on his chest. He snored lightly.

“Hey,” Noah said, waving her over to where he sat in front of the laptop.

She sat beside him, feeling the exhaustion in her body and the ache in her nose for the first time. “You don’t have to stay,” she told him. “I can take you home—or to my house. You should put your leg up.”

His fingers worked along the laptop keyboard. “I’m fine,” he said. “I’d rather be here. Keeps my mind off… well, you know.”

It had been less than two months since Noah’s beloved mother was murdered and his family torn apart. He’d been spending all of his time at Josie’s house. She knew he was struggling to come to terms with all that had happened and that he would struggle for a long time. She also knew it was especially hard for him to manage with a broken leg. She reached over and squeezed his thigh. “It’s good to be of use.”

“Yes,” he said, bringing up a series of photos on the laptop. “Look, I’ve organized all the photos from the other parents. Unfortunately, no one took pictures once the carousel stopped.”

“What about photos of elsewhere in the playground after Lucy went missing? Any chance she was caught in the background?” She told him what the search and rescue dog handler had said.

Noah frowned. He started clicking through the photos. “No, not that I can see.”

Each photo featured a different child—smiling, laughing, running, playing. As Noah moved through them, she studied the people behind each child, looking for telltale signs of Lucy’s pink shirt or her butterfly backpack. She found herself and Harris in the background of a couple of photos but no Lucy.

“Videos?” she asked.

“Two of the carousel while the ride was still in motion. Neither captures Lucy or Amy Ross once the ride stops. Once it was over, the parents stopped taping. There is another one that is more promising.”

Noah closed out the photos and clicked on a small video icon. As it started to play, Josie could see that it had been taken pretty far from the carousel, but the spinning horses were clearly visible in the background. The little girl in the video was doing cartwheels across the grass. Her mother’s voice could be heard encouraging her and complimenting her on her form. Behind the girl, the carousel rolled slowly to a stop. On the right-hand side of the frame, Josie could make out the rear end of the blue horse. Lucy’s sparkly butterfly backpack caught the light as she scurried down off the horse and took off toward the other side of the platform. Josie followed her progress to the left side of the screen. The ride was crowded and twice Lucy was completely out of sight behind other riders and the horses. Josie caught a glimpse of her golden hair and her colorful butterfly backpack one last time before she disappeared around the other side of the column.

“It’s her,” Josie said. “It’s definitely her. Play it again.”

Noah played the video several more times and each time they watched it, Josie picked up more details. Amy, on the horse beside Lucy’s but slightly in front, had got tangled in her safety belt, giving Lucy precious seconds to race away from her mother. Colin could be seen on the right side of the frame briefly as he paced back and forth, phone pressed to his ear. The other riders were preoccupied with getting out of their own safety harnesses and exiting the ride. The exit was on the left side of the screen, and people filed out of it in a steady stream, but the woman taking the video was following her daughter’s cartwheel and jerked the camera away from the exit before all of the riders had left. It was impossible to say whether Lucy had exited the ride through the gate or if she had gone around to the other side and somehow hopped the fence. But why would she? Josie wondered. She thought of Lucy nimbly climbing the slide. She probably could make it over with no problems, but she’d been on the carousel already that day—Amy and Colin had said that—so why would she have left the ride any way but through the actual exit?

“Damn,” Noah groused as they watched the last few seconds of the video for the fourth time. “We really don’t know where she went once she ran around that column.”

“Play it one more time,” Josie instructed. “The whole thing.”

This time, as she watched, Gretchen and Mettner appeared behind them, watching the footage as well. Something had been bothering Josie from the very first time she had watched Lucy hop down from her horse and take off. She hadn’t been able to pinpoint it until now.

“She’s running toward someone or something,” Josie said.

“What do you mean?” Mettner asked.

Josie touched Noah’s arm and he reset the footage and played it again. “Look,” Josie told them. “It’s like she can’t wait to get off her horse. She throws off the harness, jumps down and races off like a shot.”

“Away from her mother,” Gretchen noted.

“And her father,” Noah said. He pointed to the right side of the screen where one of Colin’s legs could be seen in the corner.

“Look how slowly all the other kids are moving,” Josie said.

“Cause they don’t want the ride to be over,” Gretchen said.

“Right,” said Josie. “But Lucy is moving with purpose.”

“So she saw someone she knew?” Mettner asked.

“I don’t know,” Josie said. “Maybe.”

“Could someone have walked out of the park with her—or lifted her over the fence to the sidewalk—before you shut the ride down and gathered the parents?” Noah asked.

“Yes,” Josie said with a sinking heart. “It’s very possible.”

“We still have no actual evidence that anyone took her,” Mettner said. “Only suspicion.”

“True,” Josie conceded, but in her heart, the word rang hollow.

“Boss,” Mettner said.

Josie looked at him. He wore a grimace. “Whatever it is, Mett, just say it.”

“You think maybe you’re leaning toward abduction because of everything that went down during the missing girls’ case a few years back? Like maybe you see everything through the filter of that case?”

Noah said, “You’re out of line, Mett.”

“It’s okay,” Josie said. She met Noah’s eyes. A silent flood of communication roared between them. Noah wanted to make sure she really was okay with Mettner’s accusation—gently delivered though it was—and Josie wanted him to know she was just fine. She flashed him a brief, wan smile. Her heart warmed at the thought that even in his grief, Noah was sticking up for her.

Mettner’s hands were in the air. “I didn’t mean any offense. Really. I just know, you know, that case was hard on you guys.”

Noah said, “Some of us have scars from that case, it’s true, but Josie has great instincts and those are not filtered in any way. If she thinks that something more is going on here than a little girl wandering off and getting lost, I believe her. Plus, the dog-handler thinks Lucy may have gotten into a vehicle.”

Mettner’s hands were still in the air. “Fair enough.”

“It’s fine, Mett,” Josie told him. “No offense taken.” She turned back to Noah and the laptop. “Can we watch it one more time? Can you slow it down? Maybe go frame by frame from the time she jumps down from the horse to when she disappears from the screen?”

“Sure,” Noah said, resetting the video.

Josie, Mettner and Gretchen all leaned in to watch as Noah clicked from frame to frame. As Lucy reached the left side of the screen again, Josie saw something dark edge out toward her from the column in the center of the ride. “Stop,” she said. She gestured to it. It looked like the point of something extending toward Lucy from behind the column.

“What is that?” Noah asked as he tried to zoom in.

They all leaned in closer, squinting as though that would make it clearer. The closer Noah zoomed, the grainier the picture became.

“It can’t be a hand or a leg,” Mettner said. “It looks like the corner of a square.”

Gretchen and Josie spoke at the same time. “It’s the door.”