“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.