Page 10 of Rescuing Sara

“Doing quite nicely, Father,” Patrick said, trying to ignore the dagger-like stare the woman continued to send his way. He didn’t have Griff Tyler’s vast knowledge of fashion, but the woman’s outfit–from her suit to her heels to that handbag with its unmistakable logo–screamed money. Lots and lots of money.

Father Ryan gestured at two ladder-back chairs with arms placed beside the woman. “Mrs. Everett, this is Danielle Blake, and Lt. Patrick Danton,” he introduced. “Danni, Patrick, this is Mrs. Franklin Everett. We only have a little time. Mother Winnifred is stalling her driver, who thinks she’s making her confession.”

“You helped her lie?” Danni chuckled, coming to sit in one of the chairs. “Who will you confess that to?”

“Well, it’s not exactly a lie,” Father Ryan said, running a hand over his close-cropped silver hair. “But she shared something with me about Sara Turner that I thought you needed to hear.”

“You know something about Sara?” Danni hitched her chair closer to Mrs. Everett. Patrick, she noted, remained standing in front of the door, and she wondered if this was some kind of Brotherhood Protectors thing. Would he tackle poor, skinny Mrs. Everett if she tried to bolt and run?

“Who did you say she is, Father Ryan?” Suspicion pulled Mrs. Everett’s thin lips into an ugly frown.

“Danelle Blake,” Father Ryan repeated. “She’s been writing theWhere are the Childrenseries forExcelsior.The one about child trafficking.”

“Oh, Holy Mother,” Mrs. Everett moaned, crossing herself. “You aren’t going to put what I tell you in the newspaper, are you?”

“I promise I won’t,” Danni said. “I just want help in finding Sara Turner. Can you–will you help me do that?”

Christine Everett’s leather gloved fingers continued their journey around her purse handles. “My husband will be furious if he knows I’ve told you what I saw,” she said, her voice trembling.

“I’m not going to tell him,” Danni promised. “It’s about Sara Turner?”

After receiving Father Ryan’s nod of permission, Mrs. Everett said, “I would have said something before now, but my husband wouldn’t let me. He doesn’t want any trouble with the neighbors.”

“A child is missing, and your husband wouldn’tletyou?” Patrick’s voice took on a dangerous edge.

“He says our neighbors’ business is theirs and ours is ours,” she argued. “Leave them alone and they’ll leave us alone.”

“Sounds as if you and your husband have something to hide,” Patrick retorted. “Do you?”

Apprehension inched its way over Danni’s skin, and she waved Patrick to silence. Checking her rising fear, she said, “Mrs. Everett, I can only guess how hard this must be to not tell your husband you’ve come here, but could you please tell us what you know or saw?”

“I was getting the mail the day Sara Turner vanished.” Mrs. Everett lowered her gaze to her clenched hands. “Or people say she vanished. Her school bus lets her out at the corner just up the street from my house.”

“She lives in your neighborhood?” Danni asked.

“Yeah. It’s one of the most exclusive neighborhoods in Knoxville,” Mrs. Everett boasted. “Edward Turner, her grandfather bought his house four years ago. Never knew why a single man needed such a big place, living there by himself until Sara moved in, but that’s his business, right?”

Patrick started to say something again, but Danni’s look shut him up. “You saw Sara get off the bus–?”

“That’s right,” Mrs. Everett said. “She comes walking down the street towards my house. There’s a side street leading to another part of the neighborhood with a stop sign two houses past ours, so we’re nearly at the end of the block. Sara’s grandfather lives two houses down from the stop sign in the next block. Sara once told me her momma always told her to stop and look both ways even if there isn’t any traffic coming.”

Pulse hammering so hard her wrists ached, Danni pulled in a long, silent breath. “Did Sara stop at the stop sign on the corner?” At Mrs. Everett’s nod, she asked, “What did you see her do?”

“There was a Black Honda Civic waiting there.” Mrs. Everett looped one arm through her purse’s handle, and she folded her hands together as if she were about to start praying.

“Did the car seem to be waiting for her?” When Mrs. Everett remained silent, Danni leaned in and raised her voice. “Well, did it?”

“I don’t know,” Mrs. Everett hedged. “Maybe. I was in my front yard.”

“But you could see her?” Danni demanded. “You said you were at your mailbox. You watched her walking toward her house towards a black Honda Civic that was waiting at that stop sign?”

“Yes,” Mrs. Everett whispered.

“Are you sure of the make and model?” Patrick’s tone was one of barely disguised contempt.

Her returning stare at him was surprisingly haughty. “My son’s first car was a black Honda Civic,” she retorted. “I know one when I see one.”

Danni’s fingers gripped the ends of the chair’s arms, as she forced the question past the scream rising in her throat. “What else did you see?”

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