Page 36 of Water's Edge

“Walk me through everything again.”

I haven’t been listening for a while.

“There was nothing unusual about it.”

“Close your eyes and visualize walking in the door. I’ve found the technique to be helpful. Try it.”

Itishelpful. When I was sixteen, my stepfather was murdered, and my mom was kidnapped. I drove all night, desperately trying to find her. I had only just gotten my learner’s permit. My knuckles ached and I pulled into a rest stop next to a minivan. The windows of the minivan were steamed up.

A little girl was in the back, sleeping, and when I stopped next to the van, she opened her eyes and I nodded at her. I wondered if she was on the run too. I’d been that little girl in my past. Sleeping in our car, waiting, always waiting. This girl looked to be four or five years old. The minivan was loaded to the ceiling with stuff. It wasn’t camping stuff, but it looked like she and whoever was with her was living in the van. I saw a man behind the wheel and wondered where the mother was. The little girl was pretty. She had dark hair, dark eyes. She saw me watching and moved her finger through the condensation on her window. She made a circle with two dots inside. Then an arch.I’m sad. I’m on the run.I couldn’t help her. Not then. But later. When I caught the bastard who killed my stepfather and I rescued my mother, I went looking for the girl in the van. I used the visualization from that day I first saw her. I remembered everything. Everything about the minivan, the man sitting behind the wheel, the sad look on the girl’s face, the license plate number…

I had to rescue her.

The license plate number was what led me to find her and set her free.

I am still caught up in that memory when I feel Ronnie tug at my arm. I swerve a little across the centerline and a truck blares its horn. I get back in my lane. I’m tired and this case is bringing back ghosts of the past. I had to become someone else to do what had to be done back then. I don’t want to be that girl anymore, but I have to be.

Leann needs me too.

“I thought you nodded off,” Ronnie says. “Didn’t you get any sleep last night? Or are you like me? I eat heavy food and I go into a carb coma.”

Ronnie keeps chattering and I don’t feel like interrupting her. She was disappointed that there wasn’t a note from the killer in the cabin:

Hey. It’s me. I killed Leann Truitt and I’m waiting to be arrested.

Here’s my name, date of birth, and location…

That isn’t fair and I know it. Ronnie has tried to be helpful. And she hasn’t yet asked when she can get off work.

“I think you saw more than you realize,” I tell her. “That’s all. I know you know this stuff, but it really works.”

She closes her eyes, theatrically leans her head back against the seat. “Okay, but this seems weird.”

“What did they say about listening to your training officer?” I ask.

“Uh. They said the training officer is always right. Do what they tell you to do.”

“That’s good. So I’m your training officer today. I want you to remember everything that you did at that cabin.”

“Sorry, Detective. I’m just nervous, and when I get nervous, I talk.”

Understatement of the new millennium.

She keeps her eyes shuttered. “I signed my name on a clipboard for the deputy guarding the door. Mindy went in and I tried to stay in her footsteps.”

I interrupt. “What is the floor made of?”

“Wood. Planks. Worn smooth.”

“Is it dirty? Dusty?”

“Not dusty. Not superclean. I wouldn’t eat off of it. For a cabin, it’s pretty clean.”

“Look around you,” I say, my eyes secured on the road. “What do you see?”

She takes a breath.

“There is barely any furniture. A couch. Blue. The arms are padded, but there is a torn spot and stuffing is coming out of one of the arms. An upholstered chair with a high back. Old. Wood legs and arms. Green. A television. Flat-screen. Turned off. A counter separates the front room from the kitchen. The bedroom and a bathroom are behind the kitchen through a door.”

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