by Patricia Fry
Erin nodded and sniffled. “They say they don’t know where she is and they don’t seem interested in looking for her.” She gulped air. “They should be worried, but they aren’t.” She looked pleadingly at Savannah. “I think they know something they aren’t saying.”
“Has this happened before?” Savannah asked.
“Only once,” she said, “when her father took her. She wasn’t gone very long. I think someone else dropped her off at the Cottons that time because her father went to jail.” Erin took a ragged breath. “She didn’t say much when she got home,” she gritted her teeth, “but I just know he…” She started to cry again.
Savannah felt a chill run through her body. She pulled the teen to her, murmuring, “That poor little thing. She said she was afraid her father was coming for her again.”
Erin took another deep breath. Stepping back, she said, “Yes, she’s afraid of him. She’s not very strong. She seems strong, but she’s fragile and kinda frightened. A lot of times she cries in the night. She’s afraid of her dreams.”
Dabbing at her eyes, Savannah asked, “So no one has reported her missing?”
Erin lowered her eyes and spoke quietly. “I was hoping you or Ms. Shelly would. I don’t know if the police would even listen to me and it doesn’t look like Mavis and Clark are going to do anything.” She clutched Savannah’s hand. “I’m afraid for her, Ms. Savannah. Can you please tell the police she’s missing so they will go find her?”
“Yes, I will. I’ll do that right away.” She squeezed Erin’s hand. “Only…”
“Only what?”
“Only they’ll come to your house and question everyone. Will the Cottons be cooperative?”
She hesitated. “Probably not. But please tell the police to talk to me. If Mavis won’t let them see me, I can meet them someplace. Tell them that, okay?” she said as she turned to leave.
“I sure will. Hey, what’s her last name?”
“Sanchez, I think. I’m not really sure. I’ve heard the Cottons use the name, Sanchez when they’re yelling at her.”
“Erin, what’s the best way to contact you?”
“Oh, I have a cell phone most of the time. I try to keep it hidden, otherwise it disappears and I have to go through all sorts of stuff to get it back or get another one. Here’s the number.”
Savannah stood and walked the teen out through the door. “Erin,” she said, “do you need a ride somewhere? I’m getting ready to leave. I’d be glad to give you a lift.”
The teen shook her head. “Mavis wants me to watch the younger kids this afternoon so she can go shoot pool or something. She’s picking me up here in a few minutes.” She turned and looked out toward the street just as an old pickup pulled up to the curb. “Darn, looks like she brought one of her goons.”
“What?” Savannah questioned.
“Oh her nephew, Sam.” She pointed. “That’s his truck.”
Savannah glanced at the pickup, then said, “Be careful, will you?” She couldn’t deny the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach as she watched Erin walk across the expansive lawn to the curb and climb into the truck cab next to Mavis Cotton. As Savannah re-entered the room, Brad and Marcus squeezed out through the door. “’Bye, Ms. Savannah,” Marcus called.
“What did Erin want?” Shelly asked. “It looked like she was upset about something. Is Marissa okay?”
Savannah stared down at the phone in her hands. “I don’t know.” She glanced up at Shelly. “Erin doesn’t know.” She put her hand on Shelly’s arm. “Marissa hasn’t come home in two days and Erin doesn’t know where she is.”
Shelly gasped.
“I’m calling Detective Sledge right now.” Savannah tapped a couple of times on her cell phone. “Hi Craig, this is Savannah. I want to report a missing little girl.”
“Savannah,” the detective almost shouted, “is Lily okay?”
“Yes, she’s fine. No, Craig, it’s a little girl I’ve been sort of mentoring in a photography workshop. It’s Marissa Sanchez, although she could have a different last name. She’s been living with Mavis and Clark Cotton.”
“Over on Sutter?” he said in monotone.
“One and the same,” Savannah said. “Why? How do you know them?”
“Long story.” He sucked in a breath and asked quietly, “Is Marissa the crippled girl?”
“Yes,” Savannah said.
“I’ve seen her a few times with some of the other kids who live there. They’re bad news, Savannah, except for the older one, Erin. How she escaped the stigma is beyond me.”
“She’s the one who told me Marissa hasn’t come home for a few days,” Savannah said. “She wants to talk to you in private; I have her number if you’d like to meet with her. I can arrange it or you can.”
“Yes, I will definitely meet with her. Now, Savannah, what do you know about this family and the little girl?”
“Not a whole lot…” Savannah hesitated, “…but it appears the environment isn’t the healthiest place for a child. It seems that Marissa isn’t thriving there. She and Erin have some very real fears about the situation. I don’t think they feel safe there. And Marissa told me some awful things about her father. Do you know who he is?” she asked. “Sounds like he’s been in a lot of trouble with the law.”
“Yeah, I know Gabriel Sanchez very well,” Craig said, disgust apparent in his tone. “He’s a class-one loser and, from what I know, he has used his daughter in some…shall we say, abusive ways in the past. How she landed in the Cotton home is a mystery, but he seems to have a way of manipulating the situation so she’s always handy if he needs her to do his begging or bidding or whatever he wants at the time.”
“Makes me sick,” Savannah said. “She is the sweetest little thing.” When she started to choke up, she said, “Well, see what you can find out. Let me know, will you? We’re really worried about her.”
“Sure will,” he said. He paused, and added, “If you feel so inclined, this would be a good time to start praying.”
“What did he say?” Shelly asked eagerly when Savannah ended the call.
“He doesn’t know anything, but he’ll start an investigation.” She looked at Shelly. “He does know the family, though, and he’s actually met or maybe just seen Marissa. He knows who she is and who her father is.” She swallowed hard and peered into Shelly’s eyes. “He said this would be a good time to pray.”
After blinking back tears for a moment, Shelly reached for Savannah’s hand. “Let’s start now, shall we?”
Savannah nodded and the two women bowed their heads and silently prayed for Marissa’s safe return.
****
Later that evening, just after Savannah and Michael had kissed their baby daughter goodnight, Savannah answered her cell phone. “Hi, Craig.”
“Savannah, I called Erin, and…”
“What, Craig?” Savannah asked hesitantly.
“She’s in the hospital all banged up. Evidently fell, jumped or…was pushed out of a car while it was running. I can’t get a straight story yet.”
“Good grief,” Savannah said. She hesitated, then added, “Well, I can tell you that the last time I saw her, about five hours ago, she was getting into an old pickup truck with Mavis Cotton. Erin said one of the woman’s nephews was driving, and she didn’t seem happy about that.”
Craig let out a sigh. “Interesting. She either won’t or can’t tell me exactly what happened.”
“Well, it sounds suspicious to me.” When Craig didn’t respond, Savannah asked, “Is she going to be okay? Does she need anything?”
“She needs for us to find her little foster sister. She’s more concerned about Marissa than about herself.” He cleared his throat before adding, “I talked to the foster parents and the woman—Mavis—said she thinks the child’s father came and got her.”
“She thinks he did?” Savannah said, her voice an octave higher than usual. “She doesn’t know?”
“She s
aid the guy has been coming around for a few weeks saying he planned to take her to live with him. When she disappeared, the Cottons figured he had picked her up.” Craig was quiet for a moment, then said, “We found him, but the child wasn’t with him, so we have an APB out on her.”
“Oh no,” Savannah said, choking up. “What has that awful man done to her?”
Chapter 5
“Where’s Rags tonight?” Michael asked a little later, as he and Savannah got ready for bed. “He’s usually in here tucking you in.” “Good question,” she said. “I’d better go check on him.” When she returned, she shook her head. “Poor guy. He must miss Marissa. He’s in the living room curled up with a mitten she left last time she was here. He seems despondent.” She grimaced. “I know how he feels. I’m so worried about that little girl.” She perched on the edge of the bed and took off her slippers. “Oh, Michael, some of the stories she has told me—she could be in danger—serious danger.” She looked at him. “I mean, can you imagine that little thing living on the streets? That has to be a strenuous and dangerous lifestyle.” She began to weep. “She’s so vulnerable.”
Just then, Rags sauntered into the bedroom.
“What’s he got?” Michael asked. “It’s not a mitten. Come here, Rags,” he encouraged. “Where did you get this?” he asked as he took the object from the cat. He held it up for Savannah to see. “It’s a picture…a photograph. Is it yours?” He did a double take and said, “Good Lord, what is this? Looks like you and the kids did some dramatization during your photo shoots.”
“What?” Savannah asked. She took the picture from Michael. “Gads, we didn’t do any photography like this.”
“Is that one of your students in the picture?”he asked.
Savannah studied it more closely and shook her head. “No. Michael, could this be real? I mean, this little boy is all tied up and he looks like he’s been…tortured.” She tossed it on the bedside table and cringed. “What if it’s real, Michael? Where did it come from?” She then sat up straight and gritted her teeth. “Esse.”
“What?”
“Some pictures fell out of Esse’s backpack the other day. Some of the kids tried to help him pick them up and he snapped at them.” She thought for a moment. “Rags may have taken one and run off with it like he does. You know how he is.” She then relaxed a little, glanced at the picture, and said, “Oh, Esse shoots all kinds of things. This is probably something he staged for a film or a magazine or something.”
Michael picked up the photo again. “The boy looks like he’s in distress. You know, I think you should show this to Craig. I mean, you’ve got a little girl missing and now this picture shows up. It’s a wild assumption, but we’d better find out if there’s any connection.”
“Okay, I’ll see Craig first thing in the morning. He’s coming by to get a more recent photo of Marissa. I’ll show it to him.”
****
“Well, that’s kinda foul,” Craig said as he looked at the photo the following day. “Is this the type of thing a photographer does for…art’s sake?”
“I guess some would. I mean, look at the films that receive high acclaim these days.” Suddenly, she leaned forward. “Craig that boy looks familiar to me and I can’t figure out why.”
He stared at the photo. “Really?”
“Yeah, when I looked at it again this morning, something about it caught my attention. I think I’ve seen that boy before—but where, I don’t know. Maybe it’s the expression. I think that’s what’s familiar.”
“But you don’t know who he is?” he asked. “He’s not one of your students, is he? Maybe a student from your cat-therapy class at the library?”
“No,” she said, continuing to scrutinize the photo. “I met a lot of children that year. Remember, I visited classrooms to promote the therapy program? This boy may remind me of someone I saw at one of those schools.” She shook her head slowly. “I just can’t remember.” She looked at the detective. “It’s rather haunting, though, isn’t it?” She then asked apprehensively, “Craig, have you found out anything…anything at all?”
He grimaced, then looked across the room into the dining room and laughed, saying, “I’ve never seen a fence around a Christmas tree before.”
She grinned. “I guess you’ve never had a one-year-old at Christmastime.”
“Not for many years,” he said.
“Do you have your tree up?” she asked. When Craig nodded, she said, “So how do you keep Tommy kitty out of it?”
He chuckled. “We don’t. We put all the breakable ornaments on the top half, out of his reach. Iris is having a fit, though. He chews on the bows and you know how finicky she is about her wrapped gifts.”
“Oh yes,” Savannah said. “She does the most beautiful gift wrapping.” She then turned serious. “Craig, don’t let him near those bows. He could ingest them and they can cause serious problems in his intestines. If he’s attracted to ribbon and bows, I’d take every precaution to keep them out of his reach. Be sure to tell Iris that.”
“Oh, I didn’t know,” he said. He glanced at the Christmas tree again. “Looks like you have bows on your packages.”
She nodded. “That’s not something our cats are interested in.” She rolled her eyes. “Rags gets into a lot of mischief, but he does leave the tree and gifts alone.” She reached for Lily as she toddled past them, and smoothed her hair. “It’s this one we have to watch out for." She then turned to Craig and asked, “What about that photo I sent you of what looks like a greenhouse? Is someone growing marijuana out there in the wilderness?”
He shook his head. “I don’t think so, Savannah. Our experts don’t think so. But they’ll follow up.”
“If there isn’t something illegal going on out there, why would that guy break Chuckie’s camera?”
Craig continued to stare at the photo of the boy. “I don’t know, Savannah. I just don’t know.” When he looked up, he motioned toward the coffee table and asked, “What’s all this?”
“Oh, some of these are photos I took the other day, but most are photos the students shot. We want to make an album the kids can keep. These are the pictures they chose to go in the book. I printed them out so the kids can work with them more easily. Few of these children have access to a computer, so we’ll do at least some of the work by hand.”
Just as Craig picked up one of the photos, Lily began to fuss. Savannah lifted her onto her lap and held her as the baby rubbed her face on Savannah’s chest. “She’s sleepy. Mind if I put her to bed? I’ll be right back. Help yourself to more coffee if you want.”
When Savannah returned, she noticed Rags sitting a distance away from Craig, a pile of paper scraps in front of him. “What’s this?” she asked.
Craig looked up. “I don’t know—I was checking my email.”
“Rags, this is my photo. You’ve been messing with my pictures, haven’t you? Darn it, anyway.” Before she could scoop up the pieces of the shredded photo, Rags lashed out and slapped at the remnants. He then stood, put his head down and growled at it before turning and walking away. The pair watched as the cat picked up Marissa’s mitten off the ottoman where he’d left it and carefully carried it to Buffy’s pink canopy bed, where he curled up with his head on the mitten.
“What was that about?” Craig asked.
“Well, that’s Marissa’s mitten. Rags is really attached to that little girl. Ever since she went missing, he’s been carrying her mitten around everywhere.”
“No, I mean why did he attack that pile of scraps that way?”
Heck if I know,” Savannah said, picking them up.
“That was a photograph, wasn’t it? What’s it a picture of?” he asked.
“Well, let’s see,” she said, laying the pieces out on the table in front of her. “Looks like one of my scenery pictures. Rags, it’s my favorite one!” she scolded.
Craig stood. “Well, I’d better go and leave you with your sleeping baby and curious cat.”
Later that day, Craig called. “Savannah, we’ve identified the boy in that picture…the one who’s all tied up. His name is Darryl Scanlan. He went missing a few weeks ago from his neighborhood.”
“Oh my gosh, Craig. Do you think…?”
“I don’t know what to think, Savannah. But I plan to have a talk with that photographer—see if I can find out where this photo came from. In the meantime, I wanted to ask you…” he cleared his throat, “…tell me about that picture your cat tore up earlier.”
“What do you want to know?”
“Where was it taken?” Craig asked.
“Out near the abandoned mines.”
“Mule Flats?”
“Yeah, I think that’s what they call it.”
“Can you send me that picture?” he asked.
“Sure, it’s on my laptop. I can do that.”
He was silent for a moment, then said, “Want to go for a ride?”
“A ride?”
“On horseback. I’d like to snoop around in that area where the picture was taken.”
“You do? Why?”
“I can’t stop thinking about your cat’s reaction to it. We have nothing else. I have a hunch this may be another one of Rags’s clues. What do you say?”
“Sure, I never turn down an opportunity to ride, and if it will lead us to Marissa…” she choked up. “Absolutely. When?”
“Tomorrow morning?”
****
“Thanks for arranging for this horse…and the truck and trailer,” Craig said.
“Sure. Bonnie and Barney Teague are always eager to help a child. Thanks for driving the rig. I’m not used to pulling a trailer.” She hesitated, then said, “So what do you have in mind?”
“Well, I want you to take me to the spot where you took that picture that the cat attacked. Can you retrace your steps?”
“I’m pretty sure I can,” she said. “What do you expect to see out there?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. I need a good clue—something that will lead us in the right direction. I want to find that girl, dammit!”