I stand beside him and put my hand on his shoulder, giving him a hard squeeze. He doesn’t like them soft. “It’s okay, you’re okay,” I say, even though it’s not true. We’re so far from okay.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to startle him,” Ms. Walker gushes. She pushes her chair back from the table like she’s going to come over to us, and I quickly shake my head to stop her. Getting close to him isn’t a good idea when he’s like this. She should know better than that.
“You see what this is doing to us? We just want our lives back, and that’s not going to happen until they find the man who attacked Annabelle.” I’ve been saying this for six days. Six days since my world cracked open. It will be another dividing point in time. Life before and life after. I should be used to this by now, but I’m not. “The police need to be doing more to find him. They’re not doing enough. Nobody’s listening to me. Nobody’s taking me seriously. They’re wasting valuable time trying to get Mason to talk when they should be out there looking for him.”
“I’m sure they’re doing all they can. Things like this take time,” she says, settling back into her chair and staying put.
“Do you work with the police a lot?” Mason makes soft grunting noises next to me. That’s a good sign. He’s settling. I pat him twice on the arm. His muscles are less tense.
“This is my first time.” Ms. Walker’s cheeks flush with embarrassment, but I appreciate her honesty. It’s refreshing and exactly what I need. Someone I can trust.
“Are you from the South?” She nods. “So you remember Scarlet?”
“Of course I remember Scarlet.” She springs to life. More animated than she’s been since she stepped into the room. “That was the most terrifying summer of my life. I’ve never been so scared.”
“Right? And none of our parents did anything to make us feel better. There was never any Don’t worry, honey, you’ll be okay. It was always You better get your ass home before the lights go out so that creep doesn’t get you too.” I say it in my best daddy voice. I never had to worry about anyone getting me once I was inside the house. My daddy always slept with a gun underneath his pillow.
“You better get your ass home before the lights go out so that creep doesn’t get you too,” Mason echoes, sounding just like me. Perfect intonation.
Ms. Walker bursts out laughing. She’s got a big laugh for such a small body. “My parents weren’t quite that bad, but they were pretty close.”
“You better get your ass home before the lights go out so that creep doesn’t get you too,” Mason interjects again. Same manner. Same tone.
I hurry to ask my question before he interrupts again. “That other girl? The one who was with Scarlet that night? I think her name was Miranda? Do you have any idea what happened to her? Ever hear anything?”
“I have no idea.” Ms. Walker cocks her head to the side and takes a second to think about it. “I’m pretty sure she left town afterward, though. I don’t remember her doing any interviews or anything like that.”
“I looked her up, but there’s no sign of her anywhere online. She probably changed her name. I bet that’s what she did, don’t you think? Maybe I should change my name too. That way he won’t be able to find us. Or maybe the police can hide us. Do you have to qualify for witness protection programs, or can you just go into them? I—”
She raises her hand to stop my spiral. “It’s going to be okay. I know this is awful and it doesn’t feel okay. It probably feels like the terror is never going to end and you’re always going to be scared, but you’ll get through it. There’s another side to this. Bad things happen all the time, and people get through them.”
Does she really believe that? This is bad. Like really, really bad.
THEN
Just because I can’t talk doesn’t mean I got nothin’ to say. She can make me sit here till those leaves fall off the tree again. Orange. Purple. Pink and gold. But I won’t eat. Might not sleep neither.
I used to be small. Real little. Like that tree. But not anymore.
Dumb bell. On her. Stupid schedule. Stupid me.
Sit. Stay. Go.
Speaking to me in small words like I don’t understand big ones. No.
Nobody paying attention. No body.
Just because I can’t talk doesn’t mean I got nothin’ to say.
FOUR
CASEY WALKER
“You did that on purpose, didn’t you?” I blurt out as soon as we’re back inside Detective Layne’s office and he’s shut the door behind us. He gives me a wicked grin, and I shake my head with a matching grin. That was pretty genius.
Genevieve and I were alone in the conference room for over twenty minutes before he returned with her attorney, Richard. Richard didn’t seem nearly as informed or as on board with my involvement in the investigation as Detective Layne had led me to believe, but by then, it didn’t matter, because Genevieve wanted me in the room with her while they talked. She held my hand while Detective Layne questioned her like we’d known each other for years. Her desperation for someone to listen to her was thick. So was her terror. I couldn’t help feeling sorry for her.
Still can’t.
Detective Layne reaches into his bottom desk drawer and pulls out a bucket of Red Vines. I expected whiskey or a hidden bottle of something. He pops off the top and offers it to me first.
“No thanks, I’m good,” I say, secretly wishing it were whiskey. I could use a drink to dull the beginnings of a headache pricking my temples. Or Tylenol. I quickly dig in my purse but come up empty handed.