Officer Damian’s face lit up. He signaled for her to come closer. Kitty hesitated. She wasn’t sure she dared to.
“It’s okay, girl,” her stepdad said and ushered her along. “Remember he’s a cop, you’d better do what he says.”
That was right. He was the police and you had to do what they said. It was true. She had been taught that in school.
“Don’t wanna get in trouble with the law, now, would you?” he added, and he winked at his friend. “Go ahead.”
Kitty swallowed and bit the side of her cheek. She felt nervous. She really, really liked Officer Damian and was afraid of doing something wrong.
“Come, pretty girl,” he said and reached out his arms. “Come closer.”
Kitty looked briefly in her mother’s direction, like she wanted to make sure it was okay with her. She didn’t want to do something that she didn’t approve of. She didn’t want her to get mad at her. But her mother had dozed off. Her eyes were closed, and she was breathing heavily, her head leaning on the backrest of the couch.
Cole laughed as Officer Damian reached out for her and pulled Kitty up into his lap. She sat there, nervously, but also feeling happy. He really did like her, didn’t he? She liked him too. A lot.
FIFTEENBILLIE ANN
“I can’t help you if you don’t help me.”
I stared at Marissa in front of me. I had asked her to come down to the station so I could get some more information about Emma and, hopefully, find out the truth about her and who she was. But so far, we had been talking for half an hour and I still didn’t know anymore. We were sitting at my desk, and she kept staring at the wall behind me with all the pictures of our police department’s history and the Chiefs we’d had since it was established in 1947. It was like she was avoiding my gaze on purpose, and it made me feel like she was lying to me again, or at least unwilling to tell the truth. I didn’t know how to help her.
“I don’t know what to tell you,” she said.
“Okay, let’s try again.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose, feeling tired, even if I was on my third cup of coffee. Joe and I had been up most of the night arguing again. After the initial information had settled, he was starting to show some anger toward me; he just wanted to know “if it was all a lie.” It didn’t matter how many times I told him I loved him, he didn’t believe me anymore. And then he began saying that he was still praying every day for me to come back to him. He was praying for it to be a phase, and for me to realize that.
That hit me even harder than the anger and frustration. He was asking me to stop being me, basically. Asking God to change who I am.
“It’s not going to go away,” I told him. And now it was my turn to be angry. It wasn’t his fault that I hadn’t been able to admit this to myself. That I had suppressed this side of me for this many years, in order to survive. Of course, it wasn’t. But it wasn’t my fault either. And he made me feel like it was. Like I had deceived him.
“I still don’t understand why you don’t have any pictures of your child, or any birth certificate,” I said to Marissa.
“I lost the birth certificate when we moved here.”
“And how long ago was that?”
“I don’t remember. Three years I think.”
“And where did you move from? Where was Emma born?”
“Up north, in Florida somewhere.”
I sighed. Again, she was giving me vague answers. It was all I had gotten from her, and I was beginning to feel like she didn’t even want me to help her. Every time I tried to dig deeper, she would evade the question and give me some ridiculous answer that I couldn’t use. I still knew so little about her. But I did know that she had lied to me—and that concerned me. Was she just wasting my time? Did Emma even exist?
“And the dad?”
She shook her head. “He’s not important.”
“He might be, though. Could he have taken Emma? Children are usually abducted by their own parents.”
Her fingers were touching her water bottle nervously. She was picking at the label, ripping it, and leaving small pieces of paper on the table. Her eyes were avoiding mine. There was something she wasn’t telling me, but why? That’s what I didn’t understand.
“Do you have any enemies? Anyone who might want to hurt you by taking your child?” I asked.
She shook her head. “No one knew Emma existed.”
“And that’s what I don’t understand,” I said, growing more and more frustrated with this woman. “Why did you keep her a secret? Why can’t we find you anywhere? Are you afraid of someone?”
Her eyes hit the floor. It was obvious she was uncomfortable. Still, she didn’t answer my questions. I exhaled and continued.
“Cassandra was Emma’s babysitter, you told me. What was your relationship with her? With her parents?”
Still no answer.
“Cassandra was likely killed on the same day Emma disappeared. Do you have any —”
Marissa shook her head. She rose to her feet abruptly, pushing her chair backward with a loud noise, interrupting me.
“Can I leave now? I have to get to work.”
I leaned back in my chair, disappointed at this. “You’re free to go anytime you want. But you’re not making my job easier by not telling me everything.”
She walked away and, hugging herself, she reached the door. Then she stopped. She turned to look at me.
“I kept her a secret because I was scared someone might take her. That’s why.”
I sat up straight. “Who? Who would take her?”
