Chương 8
“I saw it after Mom left.”
Shaw stepped closer.
“Where?”
“On my desk.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Then who took the backpack?”
Tessa’s eyes filled.
She whispered, “The man came inside before I called you.”
For a second, nobody moved.
Shaw lowered herself into a crouch so she was closer to Tessa’s height.
“When did he come inside?”
Tessa looked at me instead of her.
“After Mom left.”
“How long after?”
“I don’t know.”
“Was Miles awake?”
“Yes.”
“Was he crying?”
“A little.”
“What did the man do?”
Tessa’s lower lip trembled.
“He knocked first.”
Shaw kept her voice even.
“Did you open the door?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“He had a key.”
I felt Palmer shift beside me.
Shaw did not.
“Which door?”
“The back one.”
“Did he say anything when he came in?”
“He said, ‘Claire?’”
“Did he see you?”
Tessa nodded.
“He looked surprised.”
“What did you do?”
“I picked up Miles.”
The answer hurt in a way I could not afford to show.
“Then what?”
“He asked where Mom was.”
“Did you tell him?”
“I said she went out.”
“Did he give you his name?”
“No.”
“Did you ask?”
Tessa gave Shaw a bewildered look that was almost offended.
“No.”
“Fair enough.”
“What did he look like?”
“He was old.”
“How old?”
“Like Dad.”
I almost corrected her.
Then I remembered that nine-year-olds considered anyone over thirty an archaeological finding.
Shaw glanced at me.
“Anything else?”
“He had gray in his hair.”
“Facial hair?”
“No.”
“Glasses?”
“No.”
“Tall?”
Tessa looked at Palmer.
“Taller than him.”
Palmer was about six feet.
“What was he wearing?”
“A red hat.”
“The same man you saw later outside?”
“I think so.”
“Shirt?”
“Dark.”
“Pants?”
“Jeans.”
“Shoes?”
Tessa squeezed her eyes shut again.
“I don’t know.”
“That’s okay.”
“What did he do after he saw you?”
“He smiled.”
I hated the word.
“What kind of smile?” Shaw asked.
Tessa’s hands folded into her sleeves.
“A fake one.”
Shaw nodded as though children described fake smiles to detectives every day.
“What did he say?”
“He said Mom told him he could pick something up.”
“Did you believe him?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because Mom told me never to let anyone in.”
The contradiction sat there between us.
Claire had trained our daughter not to open the door, then given a man access anyway.
“What did he pick up?” I asked.
Shaw held out a hand toward me without looking.
I stopped.
Tessa answered.
“He went to your room.”
My pulse kicked.
“Our bedroom?”
“Yes.”
“Did you follow him?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“I stood by the stairs.”
“Why?”
“So I could run up with Miles if he came toward me.”
There was no room in my body for what that sentence did.
Mrs. Alvarez covered her mouth.
Tessa glanced at her and immediately looked guilty.
“I’m sorry.”
Mrs. Alvarez crossed the room and wrapped both arms around her.
“You have nothing to be sorry about.”
Tessa did not hug her back at first.
Then her hands grabbed the older woman’s cardigan.
Shaw stood.
“We’re going to need to go through the bedroom again.”
“You already did.”
“Now we know someone else may have been in it.”
“What would he be looking for?”
Her eyes moved toward the file box.
“Possibly something Claire had.”
“The notebook?”
“Maybe.”
“It was still there.”
“Then maybe something else.”
Palmer’s radio crackled.
He stepped toward the door to answer.
Shaw turned to me.
“Did Claire keep identification, passports, birth certificates, anything like that in the bedroom?”
“Birth certificates are in the office safe.”
“Safe locked?”
“Yes.”
“Combination?”
“Mine and hers.”
“Anything hidden?”
“I didn’t know she had a second phone.”
That was harsher than I intended.
Shaw accepted it.
“Point taken.”
I looked at Tessa.
“Did the man carry anything when he left?”
She pulled her face away from Mrs. Alvarez’s shoulder.
“My backpack.”
The words made the photograph from the car feel different.
Not evidence Claire had taken Tessa’s belongings.
Evidence someone had gone into my daughter’s room after Claire left, removed something, and later put the backpack in Claire’s car.
“Was it full?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did he have anything else?”
“A folder.”
“What color?”
“Red.”
Ryan’s mother’s photographs.
Claire’s hidden family records.
The folder Tessa had seen Claire take before leaving.
“That folder was with Claire,” I said.
Tessa shook her head.
“No.”
“You told me she took it.”
“She did.”
“Then how did the man have it?”
“I don’t know.”
Shaw’s attention sharpened.
“Tessa, are you sure it was the same folder?”
“It had the broken corner.”
I knew the one she meant.
The plastic edge had split near the clasp.
Claire had wrapped clear tape around it.
“So he had come back with something Claire took with her,” I said.
Shaw nodded once.
“That would be one interpretation.”
“Meaning he was with her after she left.”
“Possibly.”
“Meaning he could be the man who got into the car.”
“Possibly.”
“Detective.”
“I am not going to turn possibilities into facts because you’re frightened.”
“I’m not frightened.”
She looked at me.
I stopped.
The lie embarrassed me.
Palmer returned from the porch.
“They found prints on the driver-side exterior and passenger door.”
Shaw asked, “Usable?”
“Maybe.”
“Anything inside?”
“They’re still processing.”
“And the backpack?”
“Contents were dumped.”
“What contents?”
“School papers, pencil case, a paperback, water bottle.”
Tessa whispered, “Charlotte’s Web.”
Palmer looked at her.
“What?”
“My book.”
He nodded.
“Yeah.”
She frowned.
“Don’t bend it.”
Palmer blinked.
Then something almost human softened his face.
“I’ll tell them.”
“Police bend stuff.”
Mrs. Alvarez made a small choking sound that might have been a laugh.
Palmer said, “Noted.”
For half a minute, the room breathed.
Then Shaw’s phone rang again.
She stepped outside.
I went to Tessa and sat beside her.
“Why didn’t you tell me about the man when I first got home?”
She looked at the floor.
“Mom said not to tell you.”
“Before she left?”
“Yes.”
“She knew he was coming?”
May you like
“I think.”
“What exactly did she say?”
