For the next hour, Molly played the phone conversation over and over in her mind, like a bad rerun. She had tried to use *69 to trace the call, to no avail. She had called the operator only to be told that they didn’t offer a tracing service—she’d have to go to the police. When the doorbell rang, the dogs went crazy, barking and jumping up at the front door. Molly was frustrated. She tried to ignore the door, hoping the person would just go away.
There was another hard rap at the door, “Mrs. Tanner?” a deep voice boomed through the door. “It’s me, Sergeant Moeler.”
“Just a minute!” she called out, remembering their appointment and trying to decide if she should mention the phone call, knowing they’d tap her phone if she did. Undecided and flustered, she answered the door.
The stocky man she had seen when leaving the interrogation room stood before her looking serious, then quickly smiled, revealing large, square, white teeth. Stealth and Trigger’s tails wagged excitedly next to Molly.
“Heel!” she commanded, and they obediently came to her side. She managed a smile, “Hello, Sergeant, thanks for coming.”
“Sorry I’m early, ma’am. I had a break so I decided to head over.” His face was warm and his blue eyes friendly. His neatly-combed brown hair and ironed uniform gave him a youthful look. He extended his hand to Molly, and Molly shook it, pensively.
She stepped aside. “Come in. They bark but don’t bite unless they hear the secret command,” she smiled.
They sat in the living room, and he pet Stealth and made playful sounds toward Trigger. Molly was confused by the relaxed man who sat before her. His personality in stark contrast to the stern look he’d given her in the hallway at the police station. “They think anyone is fair game,” Molly attempted small talk. “I love animals. I have a Great Dane and a Pomeranian.” Molly lifted her eyebrows.
“I know, strange mix,” he said. “The Dane was mine, and the Pomeranian belonged to a victim. I just couldn’t let it go to the shelter. Anyway, they’re best buds now. Rex, my Dane, thinks Tippy is her puppy. She’s very protective. Cutest thing when they’re curled up together.” Molly was surprised by his open and bright demeanor. In a more serious tone, he said, “So tell me about these leads.” She was no longer on edge from the phone call, relieved to hand over the worries of the day to someone else for a while.
Molly started to explain about the notes she had received, and Sergeant Moeler cut her off. “I’m interested in the notes, but quite frankly, Mrs. Tanner—” “Molly.” He nodded, “Molly. Mike,” he smiled again. “You were dead-on in the interrogation room.” “But how—” Molly shook her head, then it dawned on her. “Two-way mirror?” He shrugged. “So Officer Brown sent you over because he thinks I’m crazy? Or party to the crime?” Molly turned away angrily.
“No,” Sergeant Moeler said, then corrected himself, “maybe, but that’s not my intent. I came because I’m curious. How did you know about the interrogations?”
Molly stewed in her growing anger. “If you’d like to talk about the anonymous notes I’ve been getting and how they might lead to Tracey, that’s fine, but I’m not going to discuss my visions anymore. I’m not a circus freak. I seriously wanted to help, but I can see that no one at the police station takes me seriously.” She stood, as if ready to walk him to the door.
He didn’t move.
She put her hand on her hip, “Sergeant Moeler, I don’t know what you expect to find out about me.”
He stood, his body relaxed next to Molly’s tension-ridden self. He spoke easily, “Molly, I’m not trying to cast you as a circus freak, and I’m sorry if you felt that way. I’m not curious out of voyeurism. I’m curious because we never know what lead will take us to find the missing girl.”
Molly questioned his motives, staring silently.
He handed her a business card, “Look, here’s my number. When you’re ready to talk, I’ll listen,” he paused. “Do you want to show me those notes?”
Warily, Molly acquiesced. When she returned with the notes, she asked, skeptically, but with a sense of hope, “So what do we do now?”
“We do nothing. I have to hand this over to the officer in charge.” Sergeant Moeler gathered the notes and stood to leave.
“Officer Brown?”
“Do you have a problem with Officer Brown?” he asked, one eyebrow raised.
“Well,” she hesitated, ran her fingers along the desk as she looked in the distance, “not a problem, really. It’s just that…well, let’s just say that I’m not sure he is really going to take me seriously, and I don’t see him as a go-getter. I get the idea he’s more of a sit-and-let’s-see-what-happens type of guy.”
Sergeant Moeler laughed, a quiet, confirmatory laugh. “Well, at least you read people well, but there’s more to him than you see. I’ve worked with him for three years, and it never fails to amaze me how it appears he’s doing nothing all day, and then he solves cases,” he snapped his fingers, “just like that. I don’t have a choice, Molly. I have to give him the information. He’ll delegate it, probably, and I’ll try and stay on top of it.”
Molly fell onto her living room couch, propped up her feet, and questioned her motive for not revealing the phone call, which seemed to have slipped her mind the minute Sergeant Moeler had walked into the house. The dogs panted in Molly’s face. She shooed them away. Reluctantly, they sulked to the other side of the room and lay down.
Just as she began to relax, her cell phone rang. She debated letting it go to voicemail and begrudgingly pushed herself off of the couch to retrieve her phone; Hannah Slate flashed on the screen. “Hello?” she could not hide her irritation. “Molly!” Hannah’s voice was overly enthusiastic. “Hannah, hi, how are you?” Molly faked levity.
“I’m just fine, thanks,” she said. “I was just going out for a walk and thought you might enjoy coming with me. I was so sorry to have missed you yesterday.”
Molly’s first inclination was to decline, but then she reconsidered.
“Hannah, I hope you know where we’re going,” Molly said, “because I’m totally lost.”
“Of course I do,” Hannah laughed. “Did you think I’d bring you out in the woods and leave you here to find your way out?”
When she paused after her strange statement, Molly knew a moment of nervous fear—half wishing she had left a trail of crumbs like Hansel and Gretel.
“Come on, Molly,” she tugged on Molly’s sleeve. “I’ve been in and out of these woods for over thirty years. We’re nearing Schaeffer Road by now, I would say.”
“How the heck did we get there without crossing White Ground?” Molly asked, perplexed.
“We did cross it, at the other end of the stream. You were just too busy to notice,” Hannah stopped to rest.
Molly set her backpack on the ground and crouched next to a stream that snaked through the woods.
“This is one of my favorite places,” Hannah said. “Come here a minute. I want to show you something.” She walked up the slight incline, looking carefully at all of the large trees.
Molly watched Hannah from behind, her ponytail swayed with each step, her body tall and strong. Hannah splayed her hands on a large beech tree, gazed upward. “Look here,” Hannah beckoned Molly to come forward. Molly looked at the tree curiously. Hannah pulled Molly gently to the spot where she had been standing. “Now do you see it?” “I see something,” Molly squinted.
Hannah’s voice grew quiet, and her eyes, introspective. “That, my friend, is a heart that I carved into this tree when I first arrived in Boyds.”