For a moment, she looks like she’s going to refuse. She’s frustrated and wants answers. I wish I could give them to her; I wish I could offer her peace of mind. But I don’t have either of those things. Not even for myself.
She goes to the table, pulls out a chair, and lowers herself into it. “What if he’d gotten in?” she asks. “What if he’d hurt David? Katie, he’s all I have left. What if—”
“He didn’t,” I cut in as I slide into the chair across from her. “Mattie, I want you to tell me everything that happened. From start to end. Don’t leave anything out, even if it seems unimportant.”
“I already—”
“Tell me again,” I snap.
Tightening her lips, she takes me through everything that transpired. “By the time I got to the kitchen, he was gone. The door was standing open and there was glass everywhere. I ran to David’s room, but he was still sleeping.”
“Did you get a look at him?”
“I told you. No.”
“Not even as he ran away? An impression?”
“I didn’t even see him. It was dark.” She frowns as if she’s angry with herself. “Katie, why did he come here? What does he want?”
“Do you keep valuables in the house?”
“A little cash.” She motions toward a cookie jar on the counter. “Paul kept it there. A couple hundred dollars.”
“Can you think of any other reason someone would try to break in?”
She sets her hand over her mouth, as if to smother a cry, and looks at me over the top of her fingers, tears glittering in her eyes. “What if he’s after David? Katie, I’ve heard of children being kidnapped and their parents never seeing them again. There’ve been stories of children being taken for terrible reasons—”
“No one’s going to take David,” I tell her.
“I know God will take care of us. But I’m frightened for my son. He’s all I have left.” She stands abruptly, looking around as if she’s expecting some masked gunman to come through the door to mow us down. “I’m going to move him into my room. Tonight. We’ll sleep in the same bed until the man is—”
“I’m not going to let anything happen to either of you.” I know better than to make those kinds of open-ended promises. I can’t guarantee her absolute safety; I don’t have the manpower or budget for twenty-four-hour protection. Despite the fact that I mean those words, I know all too well that good intentions aren’t enough.
She offers a sad smile. “That’s my Katie. You were always so brave. You still are.”
“I’m doing my job, Mattie.”
I see admiration in her eyes and I realize she’s counting on me to keep them safe. The weight of that responsibility is crushing because I don’t think I could bear it if something happened to them.
My cheek is numb from the frozen peas, so I remove the bag and set it on the table. Never taking her eyes from mine, she rounds the table and lowers herself into the chair to my left.
“Mattie,” I begin, “have you had any unusual encounters or confrontations with anyone in the last months?”
“No.” Guileless eyes. No hesitation.
“What about your daily routine? Has anything unusual happened in the course of your day? Maybe a stranger came to your door? Someone selling something? Someone looking for work? Any strangers approach you while you were in town?”
“None of those things.”
“Maybe Paul hired someone to do some work around the house or help in the fields? Anything like that?”
“Paul never hired out help. He did all the work himself to save money.”
“What about while you were in town? Has anyone bothered you recently? Or said something inappropriate? Paid too much attention to you?”
Her brows knit as if she’s thinking back, trying to remember. “No.”
“Maybe it was something that didn’t seem unusual at the time,” I prod. “An odd look as someone passed you on the street.”
“I’m sorry, but I don’t remember any such thing.”
I recall the way the suspect scaled the fence. He’s in good physical condition. Athletic. “What about teenagers, Mattie? Any teenage boys misbehaving around you? Saying things they shouldn’t?”
“I don’t even know any teenaged boys.” She raises her gaze to mine. “I think it must be someone I don’t know.”
I don’t respond, because I’m familiar with the statistics. If someone has become fixated on Mattie, chances are she has at least met him at some point.
“What about your children?” I ask. “Has anyone approached them? Said or done anything inappropriate?”
“No.”
“What about Paul? Did he mention anyone approaching him or causing problems?”
“Just Enos Wengerd.” We fall silent. Mattie looks down at her hands, her expression anxious and upset. “Katie, I’m scared. If he’d gotten into the house, he could have killed us both.”
I choose my next words carefully. I don’t want to frighten her any more than she already is, but I know that in cases like this one, ignorance is never bliss. “I want you to talk to your datt and see if he’ll stay here with you for a while. At least until we figure out what’s going on. Or maybe you could pack a few things and stay with your parents.”