just him. Finally, she continued, “And you’re sure neither family is suspect?”
“Absolutely sure,” Eric insisted. “The girl’s family attends our church and when little José was—”
Mary held up her hand for him to stop. “Is the mother way too thin?”
“Too thin? No,” Eric said, “What makes you ask?”
“Mom, don’t!” Justin suddenly jerked away from his mother’s hand and turned to face her. His whole face shouted, don’t trust the cop! Stop talking.
They learned so young, this distrust of the system—a system supposed to help not hurt.
“Mom, Angelina’s the wrong name. Our girl’s Alma. Don’t tell them anything!”
Mary shot her son a look that almost made Mitch want to back down. In the silence of the moment and because years of habit told him just what to do, he pulled a small notebook from his shirt pocket and starting writing down names. “Tell me more about Alma, son,” he urged.
“Should I show—” Eric started to say.
“Not yet,” Mitch said. He wanted to see how the story went both before and after showing the drawing.
Mary glanced at Eric, then began to talk. “We stopped at the car lot on the way here. We were running early and I wanted to see my inheritance. Justin was exploring outside and I started inside. What a mess.”
“Some things did get taken when we were working on your husband’s case,” Mitch said. “We did a full investigation. We have the books and a few other personal items. I’ll see that they’re returned. Now, tell me more about this Alma.”
“I heard a moan and went in Eddie’s office. Even though it was over a hundred degrees, I found a young girl in there rolled up in an old blanket. I thought she was dead, but she moved.” Mary looked at Eric. “Made sense to me. When you moved to Broken Bones you found dead bodies, the same could happen to me. But, she moved. She opened her eyes and looked at me and when I threatened to call the police—”
“Mom would never call the police,” Justin interrupted.
“—she sat up. She was a teenager, Hispanic. She spoke pretty good English. She was also undernourished.”
“Is she still at the car lot?” Mitch asked, looking at Eric’s old truck and wishing he’d brought his own vehicle.
“No, I brought her here. Back at the car lot, she got somewhat hysterical after Justin stomped in.”
“I didn’t mean to scare her,” Justin defended himself.
“You didn’t scare her, honey. She fell apart when I told her you were my son.” Mary looked at Eric. “She looked pretty young, maybe sixteen. She told us her name was Alma. Could she be Angelina?”
“No,” Eric said. “There’s no reason for Angelina to be hiding at the car lot, and I saw her last night. She’s not malnourished.”
“Did this Alma have an infant with her?” Mitch started for the car.
Mary yelled after him. “She’s not in there. And, no, she didn’t have an infant with her. I had Justin divert you guys and she slipped away. I told her to hide until you left, but I’m pretty sure she’s not of a mind to come back.”
Mitch bypassed the car and disappeared behind the cabin.
“Alma?” Eric shook his head. “That name doesn’t ring a bell as one of our missing children or their mamas.” Then, he took off after Mitch. Justin followed behind.
“Missing children?” Mary said, although no one, not even Justin, stuck around to listen. “You mean, there’s more than one?”
THREE
What a homecoming. Standing behind the cabin, Mary watched Mitch as he studied the ground, moving right, then left, careful where he placed his feet. His crisp brown Dockers blended in well with the scenery. He was definitely a sharp-dressed man. A good-looking one, too, even if he was a cop. He glanced back—not at them but at the location of the sun—pulled his cell phone from his belt and motioned for Eric while holding a hand for Justin to stay put.
Eric slowly moved toward Mitch, careful to step where Mitch had stepped. Justin paced at the top of an embankment. Oh boy, her son wanted to go along on the hunt, find Alma, be involved. It was disconcerting to see another adult influence her son’s actions. She’d been handling Justin alone for so long.
And Mitch Williams wasn’t the type of man she wanted to influence her son.
Powerful men worried Mary. Maybe that was why she’d married Eddie. She hadn’t thought of him as powerful. If Mary ever got involved with a man again, she’d try to choose a nice, safe accountant or maybe a barber.
“He’ll be back in a moment.” Eric, already red and sweaty, joined her. “When Mitch gets an idea, sometimes it’s best to let him be.” He reached inside his back pocket. “Here, take a look at this.”
Mary took the police sketch and felt her knees go weak.
“Is that the girl that was at the lot?”
“Yes.”
“No doubt?”
“None. If you knew about Alma, why’d you let me think it was Angelina?”
“We didn’t have a name for this girl. Right now she’s a person of interest. We do know she was at the festival on Sunday, and we do know that for some reason she was fascinated with little José. Sis, you have no idea what a help you’ve been. Now, thanks to you, we have a place to start. I need to call Ruth. She can run the name, and she needs to know Mitch’s involvement in the case. Then I’m guessing she’ll call the Santos boys, see what they think.”
“The Santos boys?”
“Angelina’s brothers, José’s uncles, all cops.”
Mary shook her head. “I can’t imagine Alma has anything to do with the missing children. She’s nothing but a child herself. She acted scared of her own shadow.”
“Fear’s a powerful motivator. You know that.” Eric’s words, so softly spoken, almost put Mary in tears.
“You know,” she said, “you’re starting to sound like a cop.”
“No surprise since I’m married to one.”
Eric handed Mary a key to the cabin before walking to the edge of the driveway. Mary almost lost her breath when she stepped into the living room. It was like traveling back in time a whole decade. She and Eddie had lived in this cabin as newlyweds. She’d been ecstatically content for maybe the first two years of their marriage. Eddie had worked long hours at the used car lot, trying to prove to her father that he could handle it on his own. Occasionally, he’d take a day off and they’d hike or just veg in front of the television. A few times they’d taken day trips.
With Eddie, she’d almost had it all. For two years, two blessed, happy years, she’d loved her husband, loved her life and started to believe bliss was hers. She’d learned to cook, studied antiques, learned to craft and discovered a genuine love of the land. She’d been free to do what she wanted without her family dictating every move.
She still loved those things. Her feelings for her late husband had certainly changed, though. As Eddie got more involved in her family’s dealings and spent more time with her brother Tony, the husband she thought would keep her safe turned into her nightmare.
Tony was not a nice man, and it only took two years for Eddie to become just like Tony.
Mary had not been surprised when the private detective hired by Eric finally tracked her down just a week ago and told her Eddie had died in prison. Her two older brothers had both been executed the moment they walked out of prison.
Mary