“We have a few more pages to go through, but we have six matches to households that own both types of trucks,” Boyd said. “Jan and I are going to check them out in person first thing in the morning.”
“Good work.”
“I have calls in to the other labs,” Cohn said. “I’ll follow up tomorrow morning. I’m pulling a couple of my lab techs into researching the marks. Maybe twelve signifies something, like in mythology.”
“We should contact the FBI and see if they have information about the marks,” Olivia said quietly, looking at Zack.
“Who? How can we expedite this?”
Olivia swallowed. She was going to be exposed; there was no way around it. “You should contact the Seattle bureau chief and ask for them to run the marks through the research unit, as well as the number ‘twelve’ to see if it means anything.”
“Ask your people to come in. Officially.” Zack ran a hand over his face. “You’re right. This could be the break we need. I’ll talk to Chief Pierson first thing in the morning.”
Olivia nodded. It was the smartest thing to do. She dreaded leaving Seattle. She wanted to be here when they caught this guy. She needed to see him, face him. Confront him.
But stopping him was her number-one goal. If exposing her fraud meant getting closer to finding Missy’s killer, then she would be exposed.
“I think we’re getting closer,” Zack said as if reading her thoughts. “There’s nothing more we can do tonight; it’s nearly one. Go home, get some sleep, and be back here at eight.”
Curly Bear had to come. And Bessie, her Beanie cow she got for her birthday last year from Auntie Grace. A sweater because it got cold at night. Extra underwear and socks in case it took a couple of days. Oh! Don’t forget money. She had eighty-six dollars in her Cinderella bank. She used to have one hundred and eleven dollars, but last month she bought Michelle a birthday present with her own money, an art set, because Michelle wanted to be an artist when she grew up.
Amanda swallowed back the lump in her throat and willed herself not to cry. If she cried her mommy might hear her and she’d never be able to find Michelle.
But last night when she cried, her mommy didn’t come. Maybe Mommy wouldn’t notice, no matter what Amanda did.
Amanda bit the inside of her cheek and sucked in her bottom lip. Daddy had cried. She’d never once in her entire life seen her daddy cry, but he’d cried three times since Michelle went to Heaven.
Amanda didn’t know exactly where Heaven was. Whenever Mommy talked about it, she said Heaven was in the sky. When they went to church on Easter and Christmas, the preacher guy in the long dress said Jesus was up in Heaven.
Amanda hadn’t been born when Mount St. Helens erupted, but she’d watched a show with Daddy about it one night a long time ago. She’d been scared that night and crawled into bed with Michelle.
“What if that mountain blows up and buries us?” she’d asked as she pulled Michelle’s pretty pink comforter tight around her.
“It won’t.”
“But the guy on the show said it could.”
“Only if God wants it to.”
“God? Why would he want to bury us?”
“Silly, when a volcano erupts it’s an act of God. That’s what Mommy said. So if it happens, it happens. There’s nothing you can do about it.”
Amanda had to find Heaven and bring Michelle home. If she brought Michelle home, Mommy would stop crying and hug her again. Amanda feared God took Michelle because they argued about everything, like when Michelle took the biggest piece of pizza or borrowed Amanda’s new bicycle she got for her sixth birthday and then crashed it into Mrs. Hendrick’s rosebushes and bent the frame.
Michelle could have her bicycle and the biggest slice of pizza forever and ever. Maybe if Amanda said she was sorry for yelling at her sister, God would let her come back from Heaven.
She just had to find Heaven first. The only way she could think of getting to Heaven was to start at the place where God told the world He was mad. Mount St. Helens.
She hoped eighty-six dollars was enough money to get there.
CHAPTER 14
Brenda Davidson hadn’t stopped crying for more than a few minutes since her daughter had been found dead.
She hadn’t cried when Michelle was missing. Certainly, she would come home safe. Bad things happened to other children. Not hers. Not her baby.
She sucked in a deep breath that ended on a sob.
That woman yesterday-Brenda should have her fired. How dare she accuse her of neglecting her children! Who was she to judge? Michelle had been with friends. It wasn’t her fault she was stolen. It wasn’t her fault she was killed.
But in the back of her mind, in the center of her heart, she blamed only herself.
“You have two other children, Mrs. Davidson. Have you told them you love them?”
She told her children she loved them all the time. She baked cookies and took the girls to Girl Scouts every week and Peter to soccer practice and she volunteered at their school every Friday for pizza lunch. She showed her love all the time.
Brenda slammed a pan on the stove. Look, she was making them pancakes! She’d lost her daughter and was cooking in the damn kitchen. She took care of her own. She’d always take care of her own.
Brenda reached into a drawer and pulled out a metal shape. She stared at it for a long time, tears streaming down her swollen face. Michelle loved her Mickey Mouse pancakes. She’d eat four of them piled high with strawberry jam. And on special occasions, Brenda would let the kids put whipped cream on top.
Brenda slid to the floor, silent sobs wracking her body. It’s all my fault. She hadn’t been diligent enough. She hadn’t watched Michelle closely enough. She hadn’t thought anything bad could ever happen to her baby…
“Mom?”
She sucked in a shaky breath, her body heavy, her movements awkward. She blinked and looked up at her son. “What?” Her voice was thick, a mere whisper.
“I can’t find Amanda.”
“What’s she up to now?” Brenda pulled herself up, using the counter to support her weight. “Where’s your father?”
“Sleeping,” Peter said, his voice low.
Andy had slept away the days since Michelle’s death. How dare he sleep! She hadn’t been able to sleep more than a few minutes at a time, because every time she closed her eyes she saw Michelle. It wasn’t fair that she had to carry this burden alone. It wasn’t fair that her baby had been taken from her.
“It’s not fair!” she screamed.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw Peter flinch and close in on himself, his shoulders huddling, trying to make himself smaller.
You have two other children, Mrs. Davidson. They need you now more than ever.
What was she doing? What was she doing to her own children?
“Peter-” She reached out for him, stumbled over her feet, and pulled him into her arms. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” She held him close. “I love you, Peter. I’m sorry, so sorry for everything. Please, please forgive me.”
“I love you, Mom. I know you miss Michelle. I miss her too.”
“I miss her terribly.” She’d never get rid of the black stain on her heart. “But you need me and I haven’t been here for you.”
“I understand, Mom.” Tears streamed down Peter’s face. Had he cried yet? Certainly he was grieving, too. He adored his sisters. Even though he was thirteen, he played games with them and let them follow him around the neighborhood without too much complaint. “But Mom? I really am worried about Amanda. I don’t know where she is.”
Brenda’s heart skipped. No, nothing was wrong with Amanda. She was a good kid. “I’m sure she’s around. She’s been taking to spending time in her playhouse. You look upstairs, I’ll go in the backyard.”