“Questions.” Eden seemed dazed. “I won’t remember all of that.”

Abby put a reassuring hand on Eden’s wrist. Eden started in surprise at the touch but didn’t move her arm.

“I’ll go over it again when we get to your home,” Abby said. “We’ll go over it several times, okay? We’ll even do a practice call, see how you do. And there’ll be someone with you all the time, at least in the next few days, to help you when they call.”

“All the time?”

“Yeah,” Abby said resolutely. “We’ll do shifts. You’ll need someone with you.”

“But who’ll stay tonight?”

Abby wanted to say she’d call it in, see who was available. The words were practically on her lips when she glanced at Eden, saw the pleading look in her eyes.

Damn it.

“I’ll stay at your home tonight—until tomorrow morning,” she said tiredly. “And then we’ll see, okay?” She’d have to call her parents, let them know. The kids were staying there for the night anyway.

Eden shifted her hand and squeezed Abby’s palm. “Thank you so much for helping us,” she said, her voice barely a whisper.

CHAPTER 13

The girl’s hair was tousled from sleep, and she was obviously confused and scared to have been woken up. Detective Jonathan Carver had to kneel to question Daniela Hernandez, and she answered the questions while clutching her mom’s hand. He always found that particular gesture sweet. As if holding their parent’s hand would protect them from danger. And maybe they were right. After all, if Nathan Fletcher had had his mother’s hand to clasp when he had been taken, he probably would have stayed safe.

“Daniela,” Carver said. “You walk back home with Nathan Fletcher after school, right?”

“No.”

Carver blinked. “Do you get off at the same station?”

“Yes.”

“And you walk in the same direction, right?”

She wiped her nose on her mom’s shirt. “Yes.”

An important distinction. They didn’t walk together; they just happened to be walking side by side in the same direction. “Did you see him today after school?”

Daniela raised her eyes to her mom. “I want to go to bed.”

“In a minute,” her mom said. “Answer the nice man’s questions.”

She didn’t say nice as if she meant nice. Mrs. Hernandez apparently didn’t like cops. Daniela glared at him, saying nothing.

Carver suppressed a sigh. “Did you see Nathan when you got off the school bus today?”

“Yes.”

“And you saw him walking home?”

“Yes.”

“Did he talk to anyone?”

She frowned. “No.”

“Did you see him approach anyone? Or a car maybe?”

“No. He walked home.”

“Did you see any grown-ups in the area?”

She scrunched her forehead, then shook her head.

“And when you got home, he kept walking on his own?”

“Yes.”

“Did you see anyone then? Or a car driving by?”

“I saw Mommy. She was in the kitchen. She made pea soup.” Her expression clearly signified that the pea soup was, in fact, a suspicious development. As far as Daniela was concerned, the police should probably investigate the pea soup incident further.

Carver stood up. “What time did Daniela show up today?”

“I think it was the usual time. Around four,” her mom said.

“You don’t know the exact time?”

“I didn’t check. But it’s always around four.”

“Okay. Thanks, Mrs. Hernandez. Sorry to have bothered you so late in the evening.” Carver smiled at Daniela. “Thanks, Daniela. You’ve been very helpful.”

Daniela tightened her hold on her mother’s hand. Carver nodded at them both and got out of the house. Shoving his hands down in his pockets, he stepped past the Halloween skeleton that hung by the front door and crossed the tiny yard back to the sidewalk. Instead of going on to the next house down the block, he stared at the tree in front of him, his breath misting in the chilly air.

Monika used to say he sometimes “got stuck.” He would be putting on his shirt, and then, one sleeve in, he would gaze at the wall, motionless. Or he would be doing the dishes and suddenly stop, the water running. She’d found it exasperating. She’d found a lot of things about him exasperating. Maybe that was why she’d finally left.

The occasional fake pumpkins and spiders that decorated the front yards and fences in the street struck Carver as oddly inappropriate. The local residents didn’t need to furbish their neighborhood with fake spookiness. Not when true fear had seeped into their lives. Just hours ago, Nathan had paced this very sidewalk like he’d done dozens, if not hundreds, of times before. Following life’s motions. And then something had swept in and taken him. The illusion of safety shattered.

Trick-or-treating would be tense on the block this year, with the parent chaperones sticking very close to their children.

“Carver.” A uniformed officer approached him. “We found something. This guy across the street saw Nathan get into an unfamiliar car.”