The Kill (14 page)

Zack introduced Olivia and Adams led them down a wide, tiled floor to the family room in the back of the house.

Laura Adams was a pretty girl of ten with a short brunette bob and large blue eyes that now teared. She smiled and blinked. “Hi,” she said shyly.

“Hello, Laura,” Zack said. He smiled at the other girl, who sat with her back straight and hands clasped tightly between her knees. “Hello, Tanya. You doing okay?”

“Yes,” Laura said while Tanya shrugged.

Tanya’s mother sat across the room next to Dina Adams. “How long is this going to take? Hasn’t my daughter been through enough? Why do you have to talk to her again?”

“Ms. Burgess?” Olivia inquired.

“Who are you?” Ms. Burgess said, wringing her hands.

“I’m Olivia St. Martin with the Federal Bureau of Investigation. I know this is difficult for you and your daughter, and I promise we’ll be done soon.”

Olivia’s voice was both professional and soothing, with the cadence of a psychologist. She sat next to Tanya and smiled at Laura, who sat on her friend’s other side. “You can call me Olivia,” she said to the girls.

Zack would have questioned the girls, but a glance from Olivia told him she wanted to take a stab at this. He gave her the opportunity, curious. The anger she’d displayed toward him was gone or buried; her entire disposition and demeanor seemed softer, but confident.

Her quick turnaround intrigued him.

“Detective Travis told me that you saw the man who took Jenny,” Olivia said, her voice calm. “That must be hard for you to think about.”

“I’ll never forget,” Laura said, her large eyes watering. “I—I keep thinking he’ll come back.”

Olivia knew that feeling all too well. For years, she’d feared the exact same thing. That the mean man with the tattoo would crawl up the rose trellis outside her bedroom window and carry her away, just like he’d done with Missy.

She’d broken the trellis on Halloween, three years after Missy was killed. Her father thought it was the teenagers up the street who were known to engage in petty vandalism. She’d never told him the truth.

“I won’t let anyone hurt you,” Laura’s father said, his voice rough with emotion. Olivia realized everyone was looking at her. How long had she been thinking about the past?

She cleared her throat. “It’s normal to be scared,” she told the girls. “No one blames you for being scared about what happened to Jenny. But you have parents who love you and will do everything they can to protect you.”

Mr. Adams sat on the arm of the couch next to his daughter and squeezed her hand, his mouth firm and his eyes moist.

“Laura, Tanya, I know you both already told Detective Travis and the other policemen what you saw. But sometimes, you might remember a little detail that didn’t seem important at the time, or you forgot because of all the scary stuff that was going on. If you think you can, I would like you to tell me what happened. In your own words. And anything you remember, no matter how little or unimportant or dumb you think it is, please share.”

Laura nodded, almost eager to tell her story, but kept glancing at her father for reassurance. She’d picked up on his discomfort at having her recite the tragedy. Will Adams probably thought how easily it could have been her—and how relieved he was that it hadn’t been. Then came guilt at that relief.

Olivia understood those feelings as well.

“We were playing at Brown Park, the one around the corner. We usually ride our bikes, but mine had a flat tire and I didn’t want to get out the bike pump and get all dirty, so we walked. We always go there.”

“The neighborhood was so safe,” Mrs. Adams said. “I always thought it was safe.”

Having her mother break down wouldn’t do Laura any good, so Olivia said, “This is a beautiful neighborhood. Of course you felt it was safe.” She turned back to Laura before a conversation could develop. “So you walked. How long did it take?”

She shrugged. “I dunno. A few minutes. I don’t have a watch, and we weren’t rushing to get there. We only go there because it’s something to do, you know?”

“What did you see when you got there? Were there other kids there?”

“There were some older kids sitting by the pond smoking. We didn’t go over there, though we’d brought bread for the ducks. But my mom always says stay away from the older kids.”

Laura glanced at her mother, and Olivia instantly knew she was lying. Her heart sped up.

“Did you know these older kids?” she asked cautiously.

Laura shrugged again. “No.”

“Never saw them at the park?”

“Well, sure, we saw them around. They live in the neighborhood.”

“Ever talk to them?”

“No. I mean, maybe a ‘hi’ or something, but not talk.”

Olivia raised her eyebrow and looked at Laura directly in the eye.

It was Tanya who burst into tears.

“It’s my fault!” she cried.

Olivia reached out and squeezed the girl’s hand. “Nothing is your fault,” she said firmly. “Tell me what happened.”

“J-J-Jenny said not to go t-t-to them, but Laura and I, we, we, we wanted to just t-t-try. You know, one cigarette. And, and they’d offered before and we said no, but we’d talked about it and Jenny didn’t want to, but Laura and I did so we told her to wait by the fountain. We’d be right back. But, but—”

Tanya’s little body heaved with sobs. Olivia wanted to pull her into her arms and tell her everything would be okay, but she had to know the rest of the story. She squeezed the girl’s hand harder to get her attention, and Tanya finally looked at her, tears streaming down her face.

“No one is angry with you, Tanya. No one. Please tell me what happened next.”

Tanya’s bottom lip quivered. “We, um, went over to them and asked for a cigarette. I took a puff and started coughing. It tasted bad. Nothing like I thought. Laura didn’t want to try after that, and the kids started laughing at us so we ran away, back to the fountain.” She bit her lip.

Olivia turned to Laura, who looked stricken. “Laura?”

She nodded. “But Jenny wasn’t there. Tanya was drinking water because her tongue felt yucky and I looked around, and that’s when I saw Jenny talking to the guy. He had really short hair. A white T-shirt. I couldn’t see Jenny’s face, but she went with him. I yelled for her and waved my arms so she could see me, but I don’t know if she saw me. She got into his truck.”

“What did his truck look like?”

Laura glanced at Travis, then back at her. Another lie coming up? “It was big and black, but I don’t know what kind it was.”

That’s what she’d said before, and according to the reports she’d described what they determined was a Dodge Ram because of the trademark symbol on the side.

“Anything else?”

She shook her head.

Olivia turned to Tanya. “You said you saw a tattoo on the man’s arm.”

“I thought it was.”

“What kind?”

“I don’t know. Just a blue blob. It was too far away.” She wiped tears from her face and snuggled into her mother, who’d crossed over to her.

Olivia sighed. “What about the kids you were talking to? What are their names?”

“I don’t know.”

“I know one of them,” Laura said. “Sean Miller. He’s Betsy’s older brother. She’s a third-grader.” She made it sound like Betsy was a little kid instead of the grade behind Laura and her friends.

“Where does he live?”

“Across the street from the park. I don’t know the address, but they have daisies painted on their mailbox. You can’t miss it.”

“Good work,” Zack said as he pulled up in front of the gray mailbox painted with bright yellow daisies.

He’d been as surprised as the parents when Tanya made her confession about smoking with the teenagers. Their original story—that Jenny had gone to get water at the fountain and that’s where they saw her disappear with the stranger—seemed plausible. He hadn’t thought to press them.

“It doesn’t change anything, but maybe this Miller kid will remember seeing something. Or one of his friends.”

Though her words were straightforward, she sounded defeated, while he was just kicking up a gear. Any new information was a bonus; they had a potential witness to interview, and as any detective knew, the more witnesses, the greater the chance of learning information valuable to the investigation.

“Let’s see what the Miller kid has to say.”

They walked up to the front door of the grand house facing the park where Jenny Benedict had been abducted. From the front of the house, the entire park could be seen. Zack wondered how long Jenny’s killer had waited in the park. Had he driven around the neighborhood? Waited for the perfect opportunity? Or was it a chance meeting, a spontaneous abduction?

They’d canvassed the neighborhood after Jenny’s disappearance, had even come to this house, but no one had reported seeing anything.

But they hadn’t spoken to the kid Sean Miller. They hadn’t told him they knew he was in the park that day.

A girl of about eight answered the door. Zack showed her his badge and handed her a business card. “Would you please get your mom or dad for me?”

She looked at the card and frowned. “They’re not here. My brother is, though.” She closed the door before Zack could say anything.

Zack weighed the pros and cons of talking to the kid without his parents. They could have a problem since Sean Miller was a minor, but since he wasn’t a suspect, Zack would worry about potential problems if they arose. Hopefully, no one would make an issue of his interviewing the kid.

He glanced at his watch and ran a hand through his hair. What was taking the kid so long? He raised his hand to knock again and Olivia said, “Impatient?”

He dropped his hand and frowned. He was about to make a wisecrack when the door swung open.

Sean Miller looked barely old enough to shave, but his brown eyes held the defiant wariness of many teenage boys who have something to hide from the cops, from something as minor as smoking a joint once in their backyard to as major as joyriding in their neighbor’s new Jag and totaling it.

“You can’t come in,” he said, his chin out. “My mom’s not here and no one is allowed in the house.”

“We don’t need to come in. Sean?” Zack took a step toward him, towering over the scrawny teen.

“Yeah?”

“We need to talk.”

“I haven’t done anything.”

“Did I say you did anything?” Damn, where’d the attitude come from? Zack couldn’t help but recognize some of his own bad attitude from when he was a young punk.

“Then why are you here?”

“Why didn’t you tell the police who were here last week that you were in Brown Park when Jenny Benedict was abducted?”

He shrugged.

“That’s not an answer.”

“I have nothing to say.”

“Maybe you’ll have something to say at the police station.”

“You can’t make me come. I haven’t done anything.” But the kid crossed his arms and took a step back, fear darkening his eyes.

“Withholding information from the police is a crime.”

“I didn’t do anything,” he said, glancing from Zack to Olivia.

Olivia glanced at Zack and nodded her head toward Sean. She turned to the kid and said, “Sean, I’m Olivia St. Martin with the Federal Bureau of Investigation.” Her voice was calm and soothing. Zack could listen to her for hours. He wondered what she sounded like when she interviewed suspects. He’d bet she could make them confess without raising her voice.

“I’m sure you haven’t done anything wrong,” she said. “In fact, I think you’re just as scared as your little sister Betsy.”

“I’m not scared,” he said in a tone that said anything but.

“Maybe not,” she said, “but Betsy is, isn’t she?”

Sean didn’t say anything, and Olivia pressed.

“Jenny Benedict was taken from the park on Tuesday afternoon. About this time. Your mom works. Where was your sister while you were at the park?”

“I didn’t say I was at the park.”

“You didn’t say you weren’t.”

“I—” he stopped, glanced at Zack. Zack glared at him. Olivia was definitely playing the good cop; Zack didn’t mind being the big bad cop in this scenario.

“I was there,” he admitted.

“What did you see?”

“Nothing,” he said quickly, too quickly. Zack was about to jump down his throat when Olivia said, “You weren’t supposed to go to the park without Betsy, were you?”

“She wanted to watch this stupid show, the same dumb kids’ show every afternoon. And she’d rat me out about smoking if I brought the gang to the house. The park is only across the street; I can see my front door from the pond. And I was only gone thirty minutes; she didn’t even notice.” The kid was talking faster. “And when I heard one of the girls screaming about something, we hightailed it out of there. I didn’t see anyone taking Jenny. I swear.”

“You heard a kid scream and you left?” Olivia’s good-cop impression was done. She sounded like she wanted to slap the kid. Zack didn’t blame her, but he also didn’t want to lose this kid’s cooperation.

“I—I—” he glanced down, feet shuffling.

Zack asked, “What did you see before Jenny was abducted?”

Sean paused. “I don’t know. It’s not important.”

“Try us.”

He hesitated again, and Olivia said, “Sean, the man who killed Jenny will kill another little girl if we don’t stop him. If it was your sister, wouldn’t you want to help?”

Fear and worry crossed his face. “I—aw, fuck.” He breathed heavily, then said in a rush, “I saw a guy that morning. He didn’t look familiar, and my friends and I are always at the park, you know, there’s nothing to do and none of us have our driver’s licenses. He hadn’t been around before, and he was an old guy, you know. Not that he looked that old, really, but you could see it in his face, you know? I thought he was like my dad’s age, like forty, but maybe he was even older, like fifty.”

“You got a good look at him?” Zack asked.

Sean shook his head. “No, it was just an impression. Really.”

“Could you work with a police sketch artist?” Olivia asked.

“No, I really didn’t get a good look at him.”

“Where was he when you saw him?” Zack asked, changing the direction of the conversation.

“My pal Kyle and I were sitting at the pond feeding the ducks and just shooting the shit, you know? It was early; my mom hadn’t even gone to work yet and I just wanted a couple minutes’ peace before having to baby-sit all day. There was this guy just walking through the park.”