Page 66 of Little Dolls

Naomi stopped and sunk back against the mattress, but whether she’d deliberately done as Dylan asked or she’d simply run out of strength, Jonathon wasn't sure. Dylan fiddled with the bed’s controls and raised it, so Naomi was semi-reclined.

“It’s ten o'clock; she’s been gone about nine hours,” Jonathon answered as he pulled a chair up beside her bed.

“Nine hours?” Naomi echoed, looking crestfallen.

“I know you must be feeling awful, but I need to ask you some questions. Are you up to it?” he asked, even though he knew what her answer would be.

“Of course,” Naomi nodded emphatically. She was clearly in pain, but her brown eyes were sharp.

“Just try to keep it brief, she’s supposed to be resting,” Dylan cautioned.

“Don’t speak for me, Dylan,” Naomi snapped. “I'm not a baby. If it’s too much, I can tell him to stop myself.”

“But you won't,” Dylan muttered and resumed his seat, he glared at Naomi but took her hand and held it tenderly.

“What made you go downstairs? Did you and Clara go down together, or did something make you go down?” Jonathon tried to be as clinical as possible. Clara needed him focused, not a blubbering mess.

“I was still in bed, and I thought Clara was, too. When I heard something—a crash—I went down to check it out and there was a woman holding on to Clara.”

“What did the woman look like?”

“She was old; I'd guess seventies.”

“Did you see her face?”

“Not well. Her back was to me.” Naomi’s legs moved restlessly under the covers like she needed to be moving. Dylan looked like he was ready to lie on top of her if necessary to keep her in the bed, should she try to get up.

“Then how do you know she was old?”

“She had gray hair, and I saw her a little when we fought.”

“Tell me how you fought.”

“I had my gun; I told her to let go of Clara. She did, but she wouldn’t move out of the way. I went to physically move her, I was going to cuff her and then call you, but she had a knife. She cut me. Then she tried to go for Clara again. I hit her in the head, then we scuffled.”

“Can you give me anything more specific about her appearance?”

“No. I'm sorry. Usually, I'd have taken notice of everything so I could give a detailed description, but I didn’t. I'm sorry.” Naomi looked devastated that she had failed them.

“You'd been stabbed,” Dylan reminded her. “You were bleeding badly. If Jonathon hadn’t gotten there when he did you would have bled to death.”

Naomi shrugged dismissively. She looked so agitated that Jonathon was tempted to stop the interview here and come back when Naomi was stronger. Instead, he forged on, “Is there anything else you can give me?”

“While I was fighting with the woman I heard footsteps behind me. I didn’t see the person, but right before they hit me over the head I heard him say something. I think he said Ruth.”

A name. That was extremely helpful. They already knew that at some point the couple had owned a toy shop, and they knew that twenty-three years ago the man had been sick. Now they had a name to go with it. “That’s great, Naomi. You did great.”

But Naomi was not to be appeased. “It’s my fault,” her eyes had gone dull, from shock and pain. “I was tired. Because I hadn’t gotten much sleep this past week. Everyone kept telling me to sleep, but I thought I was okay, I thought I didn’t need it. If I hadn’t been so tired, I would have seen that the woman had a knife. Then she never would have stabbed me, and I wouldn’t have been woozy and gotten knocked out, and Clara wouldn’t have been taken,” she finished miserably.

“Naomi, there were two of them and only one of you. And you kept fighting back even after you'd been stabbed,” Dylan reminded her.

“It’s all my fault,” Naomi intoned numbly.

“No, it’s my fault,” Jonathon contradicted. “I was supposed to be there earlier, but I got busy at work, then stopped by my house and got distracted. If I'd been there just a little earlier, then none of this would have happened.”

“You're both being ridiculous,” Davis snapped. “Clara is missing because ofthem. Because of those killers. They're responsible for all of this. All those children they killed, Clara almost dying, Naomi almost dying—that is on them. Not either of you.”

Jonathon disagreed but didn’t bother arguing. What good was guilt going to do Clara? None at all. And the only thing that mattered right now was getting her back alive. Anything that didn’t help him achieve that was useless. Including his guilt.

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