"Hair color?"
"Brown."
"Length?"
"Short."
"How short?"
"I don't know. Just not long."
"Anything unusual about his features?" Anthony asked.
"Only his eyes, but I already told you about that."
The girl shook her head. "What I don't get is why would a guy that cute have to kidnap somebody."
Anthony's eyebrows lifted. "People don't always do things that make sense."
"A sketch artist will be getting in touch with you," Gillian put in when they were done. "Hopefully today." She shot Mary a look that let her know she resented being cut out of the questioning. Mary merely shrugged. Too many interviewers could get confusing.
In the hallway, they searched for someone who could direct them to the room where the parents of the missing girl were waiting.
All schools had the same smell of floor wax and paper, books and sweaty bodies. And smells had a way of triggering dormant memories in a way nothing else could. Mary found her thoughts tumbling backward…
Was it deja vu, she wondered, if the scene that was being played out and the scene you seemed to recall weren't exactly the same?
Suddenly she was standing in the high school she and Gillian had attended-Lynwood High. Rather than Anthony next to her, it was Gavin. Gavin, who was about six feet tall, with brown hair and eyes that had a compelling tilt to them.
Fiona was laughing up at him, and he was laughing back. She handed him something. When Mary looked down, she saw a folded piece of paper in Gavin's hand. On the paper was his name written in bold black letters.
She felt dizzy and confused. Sweat rushed from every pore. She became aware of a feeling of suffocation that reminded her of when she was shot. There had been the white-hot pain of the bullet ripping through her flesh, followed by a rush of perspiration.
The ground had shifted. The next thing she knew, Anthony was bending over her, fear and anguish in his face.
Voices cut through the haze. Her mind sorted them out, pulling her back to the present, to Canary Falls High School, her sister, and Anthony.
"Are you okay?"
The voice was Gillian's, but when everything came back into focus, it was Anthony she saw regarding her with concern. She was standing frozen in the center of the hallway. But at least she was standing. In her mind's eye, she could still see the note. The handwriting on it had seemed familiar, yet she couldn't place it…
"Mary?" Anthony asked.
She pressed her fingers to her forehead. "Oh, wow," she said breathlessly, attempting a light laugh. "I just had the strongest sense of deja vu I've ever had."
"For a minute," Gillian said with a worried frown, "you looked like you'd stepped into another world."
"Did it have to do with the case?" Ben suddenly seemed to find her extremely interesting.
"You mean, like something psychic?" Mary asked suspiciously.
"Well… yeah." He shrugged.
"Why would you think that?"
"I've heard things. About some of the cases you've been on."
So… He was one of Gillian's projects. That knowledge added a sharper edge to her next words. "Are you trying to discredit my skills as a profiler?"
"Come on, Mary." Anthony was still watching her. "You're overreacting." His eyes seemed to be saying, He's just a kid.
"No." Ben held up both hands, palms out, and took a step back. "No way. I'm just really interested in psychic stuff, that's all. I know a guy who has a roommate that can bend spoons-"
"Whatever you've heard, I'm not psychic. What I do has nothing to do with anything psychic. Psychology, yes. But my little trip to another planet probably had more to do with an empty stomach than any kind of ESP." \ Gillian laughed, sounding relieved now that Mary appeared to be back to normal. "You've insulted her, Ben," she said lightly. "Mary doesn't believe in that kind of thing."
"Sorry, man. I didn't mean anything by it. I just think psychic stuff is cool, that's all."
"I'm starved." Gillian gave Ben's arm a friendly, reassuring squeeze and a smile that verged on being conspiratorial. Don't let my crazy sister get to you, it seemed to say. "Why don't we see if there's any place in this town to grab some food?"
"Not until we interview the parents," Mary said.
Ben shrugged off his backpack and unzipped the front pocket. "My blood sugar gets weird sometimes, so I always carry a couple of these." He held a wrapped rectangle out to Mary, his arm straight. "It's a granola bar. I make them myself. Go ahead." He shook it at her. "Take it. It'll help until we get a chance to eat."
A peace offering.
It seemed they were all holding their breath, waiting to see how Mary would react. She smiled tightly. "Thanks." She unwrapped it and took a bite, hoping it didn't contain pot, quickly discovering that it was full of healthy things like raisins and nuts and sunflower seeds. It was delicious, and she told him so.
Ben beamed, happy to be of assistance.
The bar reminded her of some of Blythe's healthy concoctions. "I can see that you're going to have to meet our mother," Mary said.
The parents had been put upstairs in a small office. In an attempt to make the interview as easy as possible on the distraught couple, it was decided that Mary and Gillian would speak to them while the men waited outside.
Mary stopped her sister near the door. "It will be less confusing if only one of us does the questioning," she whispered. She waited for Gillian's response, hoping she wouldn't have to pull rank.
At first Gillian seemed prepared to argue-a conditioned reaction. Mary watched as her sister's irritation gave way to understanding and finally relief. Wisdom and experience were on Mary's side.
"Good idea," Gillian said.
The mother, dressed in a red sweatshirt, jeans, and tennis shoes, was hysterical; the father, a burly man in a heavy plaid shirt, was emotionless and brittle with shock. Two others-a man and woman-hovered nearby. They all looked as if they were farmers-hardworking and earnest.
Mary began with the standard questions: Did their daughter know anyone she may have left with? Had she been acting differently lately? Hanging around with new acquaintances? Did she know anyone who may have talked her into leaving with him or her? Know anyone who may have taken her against her will? Had she mentioned meeting anyone new, anyone strange? What was her schedule?. What was she wearing?
During questioning, the parents' minds would wander, and their attention would have to be gently coaxed back. Several times the mother broke down, and the husband held her in his arms.
Then came their questions, the ones Mary always dreaded.
"You'll find her, won't you?"
"She'll be okay, won't she?"
This was always the worst part, talking to the parents. Worse than watching the autopsy of a child. Worse than staring into the cold eyes of a mass murderer.
"There's no connection between her kidnapping and the deaths of those other girls, is there? Please tell us there isn't."
Mary glanced at Gillian. Her sister's eyes were glassy with tears; she didn't look in any shape to answer. "We don't know," Mary said.
"You must have some idea. Are you hiding something? Not telling us something?"
"We aren't hiding anything. As soon as we have any information, you'll be the first to know."
The man pressed his lips together and nodded. "My daughter's a good girl, a strong girl. She grew up on a farm and knows how to take care of herself. She'll be okay. I know she'll be okay."
Both parents looked from Mary to Gillian, desperately begging for reassurance that couldn't be given.
Chapter 10
After spending all day and into the evening investigating the Canary Falls kidnapping, Gillian returned to her apartment in Dinkytown, but she couldn't sleep. As she lay in bed, the events of the day kept replaying in her mind, especially the interview with the missing girl's parents. How did Mary do it? she wondered. Deal directly with the victim's families like that? Did she have trouble sleeping? Was she awake right now?