Page 35 of The Kidnapped

“Her stuff?”

“The kid stuff. There’s the diaper bag with pull-ups in case she has an accident, the extra clothes, snacks, juice, water, milk, her stroller, a bag with toys and stuff to keep her occupied when she was resting. Kids go hard for a bit, and then they crash. Eden played, but then she liked to sit with me and have a snack and color for a while. Usually, she’d be ready for a nap after, but sometimes, a kid would show up, and she would want to play with them, so we’d stay until she crashed again. We’d go home, and I’d put her to bed while I made lunch.”

“But not that day?”

“No, not that day,” Raleigh said, sighing. “We got to the park and–”

“Tell me about the parking lot.”

“What about it?” she asked, wondering where this was going.

“Can you maybe do me a favor?” Dylan asked.

“O-k-a-y…”

“Close your eyes for me.”

“Why?”

“It’s called a cognitive interview. Did the agents have you do one before?”

“No.”

“The idea is for me to ask you some questions about what you saw, heard, smelled, and you put yourself back there,” Dylan explained. “It’s easier if you close your eyes and picture yourself there.”

“What’s the point of that? I’ve been over this a million times.”

“Our minds play tricks on us a lot. Sometimes, a question worded a different way or evoking a different sense can help you recall something you weren’t able to before.”

“Okay.” Raleigh took a deep breath. “But I don’t know how much help this will be. I only remember freaking out because I couldn’t find her.”

“I know. Just trust me, okay?”

Raleigh closed her eyes.

“Take another deep breath.”

She did.

“Now, I want you to go back to that morning. You’re at home with Eden. What did she have for breakfast?”

“Oatmeal with apples.”

“Did she like it?”

“It was her favorite.”

“What did it smell like?”

“Cooked apples. I didn’t buy the packet stuff. I always made the steel-cut oats and cooked the apples for her with a little cinnamon.”

“And what was Eden wearing?”

“Her pajamas.”

“What was on the pajamas?”

“A juice stain that the washer didn’t get out of the shirt,” Raleigh said, laughing a little. “She had unicorns on the shirt, and she’d picked out a pair of pants the night before that I got her for Christmas. They were characters from her favorite cartoon.”

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