pretty clear to me that no one where you worked liked Carly Fedder. Did you have any reason to believe that Alyssa’s mother was abusing her?”
Violet sat a long time, staring into her teacup. Finally, she shook her head. “No,” she said in a low voice. “At least not physically.”
“How do you mean?”
Violet looked up. Marie saw tears in her eyes. “I’ve never seen a child so starved for affection,” she said. “She’d get up on your lap at story time…and when it was over, she’d just hang on, like she was afraid she might drown if you let her go.” She took a tissue out of the pocket of her dress and dabbed at her eyes.
“So you felt her mother was neglecting her.”
Violet nodded. “Sometimes she’d wear the same dress to school two, three days in a row. I’d ask her why, and she’d just say it was her favorite. When I asked if Mommy didn’t want to take it and wash it, she’d just shrug and say, ‘Mommy doesn’t care.’ ” Violet’s voice broke on the last word. “And the way she said it…so matter of fact…like caring was more than a little girl should expect…” She brought herself under control. “So, yes, it’s fair to say none of us liked that woman.”
“Did you ever call Social Services?”
Violet looked out the window. “God forgive us,” she said. “We should have. We should have. But Miss Melanie let us know that anyone who did that would be out of a job. And we needed the jobs. Most of those girls working there had little ones of their own to look after. So we tried to give Alyssa all the love we could.”
“Until her father came for her.”
“When he called to ask after her…Well, Miss Melanie told him everything was fine, that there were no problems. I snuck into her office and got the number off her message pad. Me and a couple of the other girls called him after work. We told him he needed to come get his daughter.” She sighed.
“How did you know that he wouldn’t turn out to be worse?” Marie asked.
“We thought about that. I arranged a time to meet him. We talked for almost three hours.” She shrugged. “Maybe that’s not much. But he seemed sincere. He talked about what he’d seen, how it had changed the way he looked at things.”
“What did he say he’d seen?”
“He couldn’t be too specific. But he let me know he’d seen fighting.” Her eyes went far away. “My husband, God rest him, was in Korea,” she said. “He wouldn’t talk about it much, either. But when he came back is when he settled down. I saw the change in him then. It’s when I finally agreed to marry him.” She collected herself and looked at Marie. “So I decided to trust Sergeant Lundgren.”
“Did he say where he’d been?”
“No,” Violet said. “But I figured he’d been over to that Afghanistan.”
Marie nodded. “That makes sense. But how was he going to take care of a little girl? He’s Special Forces. He could get sent off anytime.”
Violet nodded. “I asked him about that. He just smiled, sort of mysterious. Said he had everything he needed now to take care of her.”
“Now? He said now?”
Violet looked troubled. “Yes. Come to think of it, that was a strange way to put it. Wonder what he meant by that?”
Good question, Marie thought. “So,” she said, “did he say anything about where he was going? Where he was taking her?”
Violet shook her head. “Just that she’d be safe. Among friends.”
Marie stood up. “Mrs. Prickett,” she said, “thank you for seeing me.”
Violet stood up as well. “Thank you, Miss Jones,” she said. “I’ve been wanting to tell somebody the straight story on this. I know you’ll do the right thing.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Marie said. As soon as I figure out what the hell that is, she thought.
***
Alyssa was bored. She had already seen all the stuff that was on TV, and most of her toys were back at her house. She still had FredtheFrog, and the baby doll she had named Abby. Miss Violet had made sure her dad got those. She wished her dad would come back. He had bought her a couple of games to play with, but then he’d left for a little while. The two guys Dad had introduced as her uncles were nice to her, but they didn’t seem interested in board games.
She got up and walked to the kitchen. Uncle Mike and Uncle Bobby were sitting at the table talking. They seemed upset.
“Can I have some juice?” she asked.
They jumped like she had stepped up behind them and said “boo!” She giggled. Then she saw the look on Uncle Mike’s face and she didn’t feel like laughing any more.
“Sure, honey,” he said as he got up to go to the fridge.
“What’s the matter?” she said.
“Nothing, sweetheart,” Uncle Bobby said. “We’re just having a grown-up talk, okay?”
Uncle Mike brought her some juice in her sippy cup. She took a swallow and stood there looking at them.
“When’s my dad coming back?” she asked.
“A little while,” Uncle Mike said. “A little while longer.”
She sighed. When her mom said “a little while,” it could mean anything from minutes to days. But she knew better than to ask again. She might get smacked. Her new uncles had never hit her, but you never knew. She went back into the living room and turned on the TV. She kept it on low, so she could hear the conversation in the other room. It was a trick she’d learned. If the TV was on, they didn’t think you could hear them. She had to strain her ears to listen and even then she could only catch a few words. They were talking about something being blown. Maybe something had blown up. Or maybe it had fallen over in the wind. Grown-ups were weird.
That scared feeling came back in the pit of her stomach. She picked up FredtheFrog and squeezed it tight against her chest. She felt something hard beneath the worn green felt. She wondered if she should tell Uncle Mike or Uncle Bobby about the secret that FredtheFrog had swallowed. But Dad had told her to keep it to herself.
She’d keep the secret till her dad told her it was okay.
Angela looked up from behind the counter as the bells on the front door jingled. The first man who walked in was young, slender, with short, perfectly cut blond hair. He was dressed in a dark blue business suit that looked as if it had been tailored to fit him. His eyes were hidden behind a pair of Ray-Bans. The woman who accompanied him looked as if she had been stamped from the same mold, except that her hair was light brown, slightly longer. She might have been attractive except for a weak chin beneath a small, thin mouth that seemed permanently pursed in disapproval. She was also conservatively dressed, if less expensively, in a pantsuit of the same shade of dark blue.
The man took off his shades. He tucked them in an inside jacket pocket. His hand came out of the pocket with a slim brown wallet. “Ms. Hager?” he said. Without waiting for an answer, he flipped the wallet open, showing a flash of gold badge that swiftly disappeared as he tucked the wallet back in his pocket. “I’m Agent Gerritsen. Federal Bureau of Investigation. This is my partner, Agent Rankin.” Rankin performed the same conjuror’s trick, the badge flashing like summer lightning, then disappearing into a coat pocket.
“I’m Angela Hager,” she said, standing up. “What can I do for you?”
“We’re attempting to locate a Jackson Keller,” Gerritsen said. “I understand that he’s employed here.”
“Mr. Keller is an employee