Not by Sight A Novel

CHAPTER 35

Kate curled up on one end of the living-room couch, clutching a throw pillow, a ribbon of moonlight bathing her face. Her mind jumped from one memory to another, her heart breaking all over again at the harsh reality of Micah’s fate. She had come so close to having Riley Jo back in her arms, only to have her snatched again.

God, I’m desperate. I loved You once. I even trusted You. But You’ve proven to be cruel and unreliable, and now I wonder why I should ask You for anything. But I’m asking anyway. I have nothing to lose and nowhere else to turn. Please bring Riley Jo home to us.

Kate wiped a tear from her cheek. I can’t promise You my undying devotion. I’m not even sure I still believe You exist. But I’m helpless. And if You are the God I once loved and trusted, then this isn’t too big for You. I’m not asking just for myself. I don’t deserve anything from You. But Abby has that blind trust I used to have, and I can’t bear to see her heart broken.

Kate dabbed her eyes. Had she really just asked God to help her? Had she really prayed to the One who let her husband be murdered? Had she become that desperate?

Kate felt as if she were left sitting on the edge of a cliff after clinging frantically to Micah’s hand as he ever so slowly, inch by inch, lost his grip and fell into nothingness. Now she held tightly to Riley Jo’s hand, but she was slipping away too.

“Mama?” a voice whispered.

Kate looked up and saw Abby’s silhouette standing next to the couch.

“I wondered if you were sleeping,” Abby said. “I can’t.”

“Me, either. I’m wide awake. Come sit with me.”

Abby sat on the couch and snuggled up next to her.

“I’m so glad to be home,” Abby said.

“My head is still reeling at the thought of how close you came to dying. Gives me chills.”

Abby laid her head on Kate’s shoulder. “Mama … you haven’t asked me anything about Riley Jo.”

“I know.” Kate hid for a moment in the awkward silence that followed. How could she explain her behavior to Abby when she didn’t fully understand it herself? “The emotional roller coaster is overwhelming, honey. It’s all I can do to deal with your father’s murder. And frankly, I’m not sure if I can handle hearing about how cruel Isaiah was to her.”

“I understand. But Otha was really sweet. I could tell they had a good relationship.”

Kate blinked to clear her eyes. “That’s painful too, Abby. I had absolutely nothing to do with forming Riley Jo’s character or seeing her personality blossom. I’m glad Otha was good to her. But I’m just not ready to talk about it.”

“Okay. But Riley Jo’s really anxious to see you.”

“She said that?”

Abby nodded. “I think deep down she’s always known she didn’t belong there, even if she didn’t have words for it. She said she had an angel, Custos, that watched out for her.”

“Interesting choice of imaginary friends.”

“She told us she saw him once,” Abby said. “She’d fallen out of a weeping willow tree into a pond and was choking on water. The next thing she knew she was on the bank, and Custos was drying her off with his wings. He told her he was always watching out for her, even when she didn’t see him.”

“Obviously she imagined him,” Kate said. “If ever she needed rescuing, it was today. If this so-called angel was watching out for her, why didn’t he help her?”

“Maybe God wanted Hawk to do it.”

“Or maybe Hawk’s good instincts got him there first. Is Riley Jo churched?”

“I don’t think so. She said something about her granny Fay reading the Bible. But when I prayed out loud, she had no idea who I was talking to.” Abby turned and looked up at her mother. “I know you don’t believe God listened to our prayers. But how many times did we pray for angels to watch over her? Then when it sounds like they did, you try to explain it away?”

“I’m sorry, honey. It’s more likely that she created an imaginary friend to make her feel safe. I don’t mean to throw cold water on anything you believe. But you know I gave up relying on faith a long time ago.”

“I know. But I’m still praying for angels to watch over her and bring her home.”

God, I don’t know whether Abby’s right, but I’ll take any help I can get to bring my baby home.



Buck sat at a table at Flutter’s Café and set aside Saturday’s issue of the Northwest Arkansas News. He took a sip of coffee and looked up at Titus, who eyed him questioningly.

“I wonder why there’s no mention in the paper that the little girl’s gone missing,” Titus said.

“There will be. Must’ve missed the deadline for goin’ to press. It’s sure all over the TV.” Buck looked over the top of his glasses. “The authorities are still referrin’ to her as Ella Tutt. But from what Abby told us, this Isaiah Tutt admitted to killin’ Micah and stealin’ Riley Jo right on the spot. Of course, he’s denyin’ it to the sheriff, but the kids all heard him say it. Can’t see why he’d own up to doin’ somethin’ that low down if it wasn’t so. I’d appreciate it if you’d keep that between the both of us for now—till the authorities sort it out.”

“You know I will. Does the sheriff have any leads on who took the girl from the foster parents’ place?”

“Not that we’ve been told, but he’s questionin’ everyone who knew which foster parents had her. Someone spilled the beans. The state doesn’t make that information available to just anybody.”

Titus put his hand on Buck’s. “The sheriff will find her. I just know it.”

“Sure hope so. I’m prayin’ for it.” Buck took a sip of coffee to hide the emotion just under the surface. “I’ll tell you one thing, we’re blessed to have Abby home safe and sound.”

“I can tell you two are close.”

Buck smiled. “Always have been. We’ve done everything from fishin’, campin’, and white-water raftin’ to dance recitals, tea parties, and homework. I’ve tried to help fill the void of her daddy bein’ gone. I’ve done it with the boys, too. But I’ve got a soft spot for Abby. We’re just on the same page, if you get my drift.”

Savannah came over to their table, holding a round tray containing a platter of something that looked and smelled delicious. “Benson made another Cajun favorite for y’all. Brown sugar cinnamon buns. They’ll make your sweet tooth stand up and sing.”

“Sounds mighty tasty,” Buck said. “What’s that on top?”

“Cream cheese frosting—prepared with a little extra something that makes them uniquely Benson’s.” Savannah set the platter in the middle of the table and gave them each a plate and fork. “They’re still hot, so be careful.”

Titus slid a cinnamon bun onto his plate. “Boy oh boy. These won’t last long.”

Savannah put her hand on Buck’s shoulder and lowered her voice. “You doin’ all right?”

“I’m holdin’ on—to the One I know can bring Riley Jo home.”

“Lots of prayers are going up for her,” Savannah said.

“I know my church has our prayer chain on their knees.” Buck moved his finger around the rim of his cup. “I doubt if Virgil slept a wink last night either. He’s got his work cut out for him. I’m just grateful the authorities took a mouth swab from the girl to test her DNA before she disappeared. No one in the family doubts she’s Riley Jo, but we’ll all feel better when it’s official.”

“Are you confident with Sheriff Granger running it?” Titus cut a piece of cinnamon bun and pierced it with his fork. “Doesn’t sound to me like his people have exactly been on top of things over the years.”

Savannah kicked Titus under the table, and Buck pretended not to notice.

“I’m not worried one whit about the sheriff,” Buck said. “I’m confident that God’s in control. If we’re supposed to find Riley Jo, she’ll be found.”



Virgil yawned and turned to look out his office window. Glints of morning sun filtered through the leaves on the giant red maples that stood on the front lawn of the Raleigh County Courthouse.

On the sidewalk, a young woman pushed a stroller and held a schnauzer on a leash. Old Melvin Mayfield, clad in denim overalls and a yellow T-shirt, occupied a wrought-iron bench on the courthouse grounds, just like he did most mornings, sipping on a large coffee and reading the New York Times.

Virgil had opted to sleep a couple hours on the couch in his office so he would be ready to go if any leads came in on Ella Tutt’s whereabouts. But no breaks had come, and his sleep had been fretful. He couldn’t quite shake the image of Micah fighting to his death, trying to protect his helpless daughter. How ironic that the skinny little neighbor kid who had idolized Virgil ended up dying a hero—murdered on Virgil’s watch.

Virgil blinked to clear the image and turned his thoughts to Kate. He didn’t want to let her down again. His deputies had worked through the night—gotten DCFS employees out of bed—but so far, none had offered his deputies anything useful. He refused to believe that Ella Tutt had vanished beyond their reach.

Virgil pulled the electric razor out of his drawer and turned it on just as he heard a knock at the door. “Come in.”

Kevin, looking a little battle worn, his eyes bloodshot, came in and stood next to Virgil’s desk.

“I’m about to make your day,” Kevin said. “The maintenance supervisor at DCFS just discovered the night cleaning supervisor bound and gagged and locked in a closet. The victim said a middle-aged Caucasian man wearing a red bandana on his face accosted her shortly after she started her shift and threatened to hurt her unless she gave him the keys to the offices and the night entrance. She complied. The EMTs checked her over, and she wasn’t harmed. We’re bringing her in for questioning now.”

“That had to be our perp,” Virgil said. “He must’ve gotten into the files and found out where Ella Tutt was and gone after her.”



Virgil, newly shaven and feeling more alert, sat with Kevin in the first interview room, across the table from Maria Diaz, the night cleaning supervisor accosted at DCFS. Introductions had been made and the woman given a bottle of water. She seemed to be at ease. Virgil decided to let Kevin take the lead.

“Ms. Diaz,” Kevin said, “we truly appreciate your coming down to talk with us about what happened. As you know, we’re in the middle of an investigation that includes a missing girl, whose whereabouts we believe were obtained by the man who accosted you.”

“Sorry,” Maria said. “I didn’t want to give him the keys. He threatened to hurt me.” Her lower lip quivered. “I have a son.”

Kevin nodded. “We understand. You did the right thing. He probably would have hurt you—and forced you to give him the keys anyway. But now we need you to answer some questions so we can find this man. Can you do that for us?”

“Yes. Yes,” Maria said. “Whatever I can do.”

“Start by telling us what happened. I know you talked to deputies already, but we’d like you to tell us.”

“Just after seven p.m., I got my supplies ready to clean the offices on the first floor when a big man with a bandana tied around his mouth grabbed me. He said he would hurt me real bad if I didn’t give him my keys to the building. I was scared. So I did what he said.”

“Okay, you gave him the keys.” Kevin made a notation on his pad. “Then what happened?”

“He made me show him which key opened the main offices. And which key opened the night door. Then he forced me down the hall and into a tool closet. He tied me with rope and put duct tape over my mouth. He said don’t make a sound, or he would come find me. And hurt me.” Maria began to whimper and put her face in her hands. “I was so afraid. I didn’t call for help or try to get untied—until I heard my coworkers calling for me.”

“Do you know what time that was?”

Maria nodded and looked up. “They were getting ready to leave, so I knew it was around one a.m. I screamed for them until I ran out of air, but the duct tape muffled my voice. Nobody came. After they left, I prayed until I fell asleep. I knew someone from maintenance would find me in the morning.”

“Okay, let’s talk about the man. You told detectives he was Caucasian, right?”

“Yes. Definitely.”

“What color was the bandana he wore?”

“Rojo. I mean red.”

“Can you describe him?”

“Very big man. Tall. Big here.” Maria wrapped her fingers around her upper arm. “His eyes were dark like mine. His hair was mixed—dark brown with some gray.”

“So how old would you guess him to be?”

“Forty-five. Maybe fifty.”

“I know the bandana hid much of his face, but could you tell if he had a beard?”

“I didn’t see one.”

Kevin wrote something on his pad. “What was he wearing?”

“I was so scared I didn’t pay attention. But I think jeans and a blue shirt with no sleeves.”

“You’re doing great. Now, how tall was he?” Kevin stood. “Would you stand for a moment, please, Ms. Diaz?”

Maria did as he asked and stood facing him.

“I’m six feet tall,” Kevin said. “Was the man taller or shorter than me?”

“Taller. He was a giant of a man. Not fat. Just thick. I’m not sure what is the right word to describe him.”

“You’re doing fine. You can sit now. Thank you.” Kevin sat again and wrote something in his notes. “Okay, I need you to think really hard. Was there anything in particular that stood out about this man besides his size?”

“Yes, he sounded stuffed up, like he had a cold or allergies. He kept sniffing. It was disgusting.”

“That’s great information!” Kevin said. “Especially if we can apprehend him soon. Anything else?”

“His arms were hairy. And tan.”

“Keep going,” Kevin said.

“That’s all I can think of at the moment.”

Virgil cleared his throat. “Did your assailant say why he wanted the keys? Or did he say anything else directly to you or mumble anything under his breath?”

“He did mumble something.” Maria seemed to be collecting her thoughts. “Something about his brother frying? I thought he sounded crazy. Does that mean something?”

Virgil’s gaze collided with Kevin’s. “Yes, ma’am. I believe it does.”