Molly reached out and touched her arm. “I don’t know,” she said.
“Why no police investigate? No body, no proof!” she demanded. “Where Tracey? Where that little girl?” Tears fell from Edie’s eyes.
“I’m just as baffled as you are, Edie,” Molly said.
Edie walked away. Molly swore she heard her say, “He knows,” when she brushed past her. The hair on the back of her neck prickled with a frisson. She walked hurriedly to the front of the store, paid for her items, and escaped. Molly hurried down the concrete steps toward her van. Harley yelled behind her, “Running today?” Molly held up her bottle of water in answer. “Molly?” Harley’s tone stopped her in her tracks. “Yeah?” she replied, distracted and miffed by the glare of the day before. “Careful poking a sleeping bear. I wouldn’t want you gettin’ hurt.”
Molly thought she could walk into the police station, hand over the necklace and candy wrapper, and turn around and leave—a five-minute trip. She was surprised at how wrong she felt when she walked through the door and found the same young officer manning the front desk. A spark of recognition passed between them. “Hello, ma’am, nice to see you again,” the officer smiled. “You, too,” she said, mildly embarrassed. “Is Officer Brown in today?” she asked. A voice boomed from behind her, “Just who would like to know?”
Molly turned around and looked into the round face of Officer Brown, his hands clasped atop his protruding belly. He smiled as if there were no ill feelings between them. Molly tried to smile, to cover the angst she felt at seeing him again.
“Officer Brown,” Molly reached into her backpack, protectively touching the treasures she’d tucked away, and thinking about Harley’s comment.
“What brings you here today?” he asked.
His shoes were dull, his brown pants wrinkled, almost as short as they were wide, and his jacket had a coffee stain on the front. Why, Molly wondered to herself, was she so worried about this unkempt man? She stood up straighter and decided that she would not be intimidated by him.
“I was wondering if we could talk for a minute,” she said, trying to summon her business voice from her Philadelphia days.
“Well, we surely can,” he said. He waddled in front of Molly and led her down the hallway towards the interrogation room. He winked as he passed her.
You wish, Molly thought, cringing inwardly.
Molly followed him, feeling oddly like a school girl walking to the principal’s office, unsure how to turn over the evidence without appearing guilty. Her mind wrestled with the pros and cons, but she could not bring back her resolve to give up those pieces of Tracey.
“After you, Mrs. Tanner,” Officer Brown held the door open.
“Thank you,” Molly said, clutching her backpack.
Molly sat on the same cold chair, in the same stale room, facing the same two-way mirror, and felt even more like a suspect. She reminded herself that she was there by choice—she could get up and leave if she wanted. She held the backpack in her lap, realizing that by not turning over the evidence, she was, in fact, a criminal. She rationalized in her mind that she could keep them for one more day—in case there were more messages to come, even though she knew that doing so would cause strife in her marriage. Her marriage—that was another thing Molly couldn’t worry about at the moment.
Officer Brown sat across from Molly, staring expectantly at her, his hands resting across his stomach.
“Mrs. Tanner?” he smiled. “Do you have something to tell me?”
Does he think I am here to confess? Molly was taken by surprise. “Excuse me?”
“I assume,” he adjusted his too large body in the too small seat, “that there is some reason you’re here.”
“Of course—sorry,” Molly said. “I was just wondering,” she paused, having difficulty concentrating. She glanced around the room and images came at her fast, stealing her concentration: An image of a mother crying, while her teenage son sat across the very same table, head in his hands, ashamed; an image of a large man, his veins bursting with anger, arrested after raping a young girl. They came at Molly with such power that it took her a moment to regroup, so long, in fact, that Officer Brown had asked her if she was alright.
“I’m sorry. I guess I’m a little sidetracked, Officer Brown,” Molly sat up straighter, scrambling to come up with a reason for her visit.
Officer Brown looked up at the ceiling, rubbing his chin with his left index finger and thumb. His neck jiggled with each movement. “Mrs. Tanner?” Molly jumped in her seat. “Is there something else, Mrs. Tanner?” he asked. Molly leaned her elbows on the table and leaned forward. “Officer Brown, no one was charged in Rodney’s murder, right?” He frowned, a little annoyed, “Right, yes. We’ve been over this before.” He straightened his back, looking at her more seriously. “But you never found Kate Plummer, either?”
“Right, right, Mrs. Tanner, where are you going with this? That case is over twenty years old. This case, the Tracey Porter case, has no relation. What is it that you want? I don’t have time to talk to every Tom, Dick, or…Molly,” he emphasized her name with sarcasm, “about closed cases.” He leaned forward until Molly could smell his stale breath, “Unless, of course, you are trying to get me to look the other way, look for others who might be involved.”
“Excuse me?” Molly pushed back from the table. “Officer Brown, you cannot possibly believe that I might be a suspect,” she said angrily. “That’s a load of horse shit and you know it!”
Officer Brown sat back slowly and looked at his stubby fingernails, “Maybe I do.” He looked up at Molly, who stood before him, incensed. “But what I can’t figure is why you’re tracking this case so closely, closer than the girl’s parents. What do you have to gain? Or maybe you know the abductor, and you want to keep tabs on the police?”
Molly could feel heat spread up her chest, her face reddening. “That’s ridiculous. I’m a mother! I have a son! I would never want harm to come to a child, much less protect someone who caused it!” The nightmares and the face of Amanda’s killer flashed in her mind, clear as day. She swallowed the pain of the truth—she had ignored those visions—and turned her back to Officer Brown, hiding the tears of anger that welled in her eyes, “You should be ashamed of yourself,” she seethed.
“Then tell me, Mrs. Tanner, what is your stake in this?” he asked sincerely.
“I…” Molly spun around, looked down, and suddenly decided to come clean. She looked him in the eye, “I know things.” She watched his eyes light up, as if she were going to confess. “No, not because I did them or am involved,” she began to pace. “I’m not the culprit, Officer Brown.” She stood before him, mustering the strength to tell him the truth, and hoping it would make a difference. “I have visions…visions that I don’t always understand. I’ve always had them.”
She recognized the look of disbelief in his eyes, the slack in his jaw. “I know what you’re thinking. Either this woman is crazy, or she’s in on it.” She leaned toward him. “I’m not crazy, and I’m not Rodney. I have flashes of things, which I know is just like what Pastor Lett said Rodney had, but I’m not guilty. My son has the same…gift…if you will.” She leaned back, and spoke honestly. “Only it isn’t a gift, it’s torture. I have seen flashes of this little girl in the dark, of a man reaching for the sky. I just can’t make sense of it all.” She looked at him, seeking any amount of belief, but was met with another blank stare.