“When’s your birthday?”
“August twenty-two.”
“That was a couple of days ago,” Melina said. “What happened to your mom, honey?”
“She never woke up that morning.”
“Why not?”
“BB said it was the needle in her arm. It would make her sleep forever.”
“Who’s BB?”
“My friend.”
“Was BB driving the car?”
“Yes.”
“Was BB in a hurry to get somewhere?”
“She was mad.”
“About what?”
“Sonny yelled at her. She yelled back. Mama always said don’t make BB mad.”
“What does BB look like?”
“I dunno. Like BB.”
“Does she have blond or brown hair?” Melina asked.
“Blond. But it’s black on top.”
Melina continued with more questions until she had a fuzzy profile of a middle-aged woman with bleached-blond hair and a taste for fast cars and flashy clothes. “Who is Sonny?” she asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Is Sonny a boy or girl?”
“A boy.”
“Did he seem to know BB?”
“Sonny is her friend.”
“Was Sonny in the car when it crashed?”
“No.”
“Do you know Sonny’s last name? I’d like to call someone that knows you or BB.”
“Don’t call Sonny. He’s scary.”
Her lips flattened into a small grim line, and whatever sense of calm the girl had started to enjoy vanished. “That’s okay. We won’t call Sonny. I promise.”
The girl shook her head. “Promises break.”
“Not mine.” Melina’s clear, direct tone did not allay the child’s fear. “Where is BB?”
“She had to run for help. She told me not to worry and she would be back.” The girl twisted the fur on the dog’s floppy ear.
“Do you know why the car wrecked?”
“BB was driving really fast.”
“Did she try to stop?” Melina asked.
“I dunno. We just hit something hard.”
Who left a kid in a wrecked car? BB sure as hell had not called the cops or paramedics. Melina smiled at the girl. “BB was right. Help did come. She sent me.”
The girl studied her, and though there was no hint of a smile, some of the tension straining her face eased.
“I’m tired. I want to go home.”
“I’ll find BB, okay?”
The girl nodded.
“Until I do, you stay here with Petey and watch SpongeBob.”
“Will you come back?” Skepticism and hope both flashed in the young gaze.
“I will be back. And remember, Elena, I always keep my promises.”
The little girl’s lip stuck out and trembled. “I don’t believe you.”
Six-year-olds should not know that kind of distrust. But too many did. Melina tugged off her watch and handed it to the girl. “Keep this for me, and you can give it to me when I get back.”
“It’s mine?”
“Until I get back. Then I’ll need it.”
Elena traced the clock’s face with her small index finger. “I’m going to keep it if you don’t come back.”
At this stage, she did not want to ask the child about the jar of severed fingers. If the forensic team and medical examiner couldn’t tell her more, then she might have to ask the child about them. “I know. You’re a smart girl. But I’ll be back tonight.”
“Okay.”
Melina patted the girl on the hand, smiling even as she pushed back fresh waves of anger and frustration. She rose, and as she turned, the girl grabbed her hand.
“See you soon, Elena,” Melina said.
As she moved closer to the door, Ramsey ducked out of the room and waited for her in the hallway.
“You okay?” he asked.
“I’ll be better when I get my hands on BB and Sonny.” She lived for the moment when she could lock handcuffs around the wrists of scumbags like them.
Melina strode to the floor’s station and asked for Elena’s doctor to be paged. She and Ramsey waited less than a minute before a woman dressed in scrubs appeared. In her early thirties, she wore her blond hair in a french braid that accentuated a strong jaw. Wire-rimmed glasses magnified green eyes reflecting annoyance and fatigue.
The doctor crossed to Melina and Ramsey. “I’m Dr. Savannah Lawrence. I’m Elena’s doctor.”
Ramsey extended his hand and introduced himself. Melina followed suit. “Can you give us an update on the girl’s health?” he asked.
“She sustained a contusion on her chest, but it was likely caused by the seat belt at the time of impact. MRI showed no head or back injuries.”
“What about signs of sexual assault?” Melina asked.
Anger climbed up Dr. Lawrence’s face, bringing color to an otherwise pale complexion. “I did examine her. From what I can see, she’s never been sexually active.”
She hoped the doctor’s assessment was totally correct, and they had gotten to the girl in time.
“The police forensic technician came by earlier and took her fingerprints. Do you know more about the girl’s identity?” Dr. Lawrence asked.
“The prints are still being processed,” Ramsey said. “As soon as we do, we’ll let you know.”
Dr. Lawrence shook her head. “She’s a sweet kid.”
“At that age, they all are, or would be if they had a decent parent or guardian.” Melina recalled her mother’s stories about how she had been holy hell in the months after her adoption. It was as if she had been testing her parents’ promise to raise her.
“I can keep her here a couple more days, but the hospital will discharge her once she’s medically cleared. They’ll need the bed. I’ve already placed a call to social services.”
“Understood.” Melina handed Dr. Lawrence a business card. “But do me a favor and don’t move the girl without calling me first.”
The doctor read the card and carefully tucked it in her breast pocket. “Of course.”
It was not lost on Melina that Elena’s story was so similar to her own. She acknowledged her instant dislike of BB and would find a way to lock it away. When the time came to interview BB, she needed to maintain distance and perspective. Her emotions could play no role in the interrogation.
After the doctor left, Melina and Ramsey walked to the elevators. He reached for his phone. “I’ll text the FBI office and see if we can find the address the child gave us. I’ll also have them search for the child’s birth certificate and the mother’s death certificate. We might get lucky.”
Melina glanced at her wrist and remembered she’d left her watch with Elena. She fished out her phone and checked the time. “It’s almost six thirty. The car BB was driving will be towed to the TBI forensic bay this evening and gone over tonight, but I’m not expecting much of a preliminary report until at least tomorrow morning.”
“The prints from the severed fingers should be processed fairly quickly,” Ramsey said, “but may take a little longer.”
The medical examiner would feed the usable prints into the Automated Fingerprint Identification System, or AFIS. From there they would be cross-checked against a database containing millions of prints in a matter of hours.
“I have a couple of hours of daylight, so I’m headed back to the crash site to start knocking on doors. I’ll also call Sarah and see if any of the girls on the street have any news about our guy.”
“Understood. When I have an ID on the victims, I’ll contact you,” Ramsey said.
“Thanks.” Absently, she rubbed her bare wrist adorned only by the faint tan line left by her watch.
No time for a quick session at the gym tonight, which was too bad. Nothing like driving a roundhouse kick into a punching bag to work shit out.
“Why’d you give your watch to that child?” Ramsey asked. “It looked expensive.”
Her mother normally would not have been thrilled to know she had handed off her college graduation present. But given the circumstances, she’d understand. “Trust always comes with a risk.”
A ghost of a smile tipped the edges of his lips, but it looked rusty. The deep lines around his mouth and the crow’s-feet feathering from the corners of his eyes suggested frowning was his default expression. “You don’t strike me as the trusting soul.”
That coaxed the day’s first and likely only real smile. “Oh, I’m not. I’d hate to lose that watch, but in the big picture, it’s a small risk.”
CHAPTER NINE
Monday, August 24, 7:00 p.m.
By the time Melina left the hospital, her stomach was grumbling, and she was craving a burger and fries. Some cops drank when they were stressed. Others smoked. Some worked out. Breaking a sweat did wonders for her, and it was her go-to vice. But when she could not work out, she ate. Thankfully, her fast metabolism burned through the high-fat calories found in a cop’s standard takeout meal. Her metabolism still worried her mother, who warned Melina that one day she would not be able to wolf down a second burger or have a late-night bowl of ice cream.