The Green Children: A Sycamore Moon Novel (Sycamore Moon Series Book 3)

by Domino Finn

  The detective shook his head. He was taking the biker seriously. "I don't think so."

  "Well, this guy's bad news," asserted Diego. "You saw how he watched the girl. Olivia too."

  Maxim nodded slightly and checked the car again.

  "What about the kids?" asked Diego. "Red mentioned kids. Jason said the same thing. They were both at Quiet Pines Sunday night. Do you think that's a coincidence?"

  "I don't know. Some of Annabelle's friends are wannabe runaways. They're barely teenagers and they're drinking. Maybe their antics are more sophisticated than I assumed."

  Diego sighed over Maxim's words. "You showed Red those pictures. He said those weren't the kids."

  "He also said he didn't get a good look at them."

  "Listen to yourself. You don't really think a few kids are responsible for the kidnapping. I saw the news reports. Annabelle went out there herself. Hazel isn't like that. She's in real trouble."

  "You don't even know her."

  The tentative smile in Hazel's school picture flashed in Diego's mind. At first he'd thought the expression hid something, but he now realized the girl had just been nervous and wore her heart on her sleeve. "I've spent enough time with Julia to know the difference."

  The detective shook his head again and put a concerned hand on Diego's shoulder. "And that's the problem here. You're too involved in this. You need to take a step back, man."

  Diego spun away from his friend. "Don't treat me like that, bro. What about you and Olivia? Are you worried about asking them the hard questions?"

  "It's not like that," said Maxim.

  "Well, there's something going on in these woods, and that little girl in there knows what it is. She should be talking to us. Saying something that could help."

  The detective's expression darkened. He crossed his arms and avoided eye contact.

  "Maxim, you need to consider that she's not telling you the truth."

  "She's a kid."

  "A runaway! Stealing money and splurging on wine coolers! Running out—"

  Maxim threw his hand up to silence the biker. Diego realized he was being a little loud and hushed to a whisper.

  "Running out into the woods in the middle of the night isn't something a good kid does."

  "You ran from the Commissioned Corps, didn't you?"

  Diego knew his glare could melt ice. "That was different. What Annabelle just did out here, taking her shoes off and racing into the woods? That's messed up stuff. She knows something." Diego implored Maxim to hear him with the tone of his voice. "I'm not saying she's responsible for Hazel's abduction, but she knows something. She might know where she is, or who took her. She might know something about this asshole," said Diego, pointing towards the RV. "You need to reach her, man, or get someone who can."

  The detective was silent for a moment. Something Diego had said got through. "I'll talk to them again, but I can try her therapist as well. I've been meaning to get to it. But don't get your hopes up. They're like lawyers. Everything they know is privileged." Maxim took a couple of steps to his car. "I'm telling you, Diego, Annabelle is not acting malevolently. She's a confused girl who doesn't know what to make of things. Now let's get out of here."

  Diego noticed Olivia exiting the car. She hadn't interrupted them, but her impatient stare was hot enough for Maxim to feel. The detective was itching to leave.

  "Go ahead," said Diego.

  "No way. Not without you. You nearly went to jail after stalking a man yesterday and you followed that up with a B and E over here. I'm not gonna leave you alone with Red."

  Diego scoffed. "I called you, didn't I? I'm not gonna bother him. But it wouldn't hurt to keep an eye on things. What else am I gonna do?"

  "Literally anything else would be healthier. Pick up an extra shift or something."

  Diego shook his head. He still needed to talk to Harry Pendle.

  Maxim must have read his face. "Jesus. What did you do?"

  "Like you said. I'm invested in this."

  The detective frowned. He was about to say something, then noticed Olivia tapping on the roof of his Audi. He was conflicted. "Look, Diego. Just don't do anything stupid with the old man. You're lucky he doesn't want to press charges for the assault back there. I promise I won't drop it. I'll look into him some more and call you back later. That's gotta be good enough." Maxim let that sink in before walking to the car. Olivia Hayes appeared annoyed and relieved at the same time. Maxim said something to her and she smiled before they sat inside.

  As the car started, Diego shuffled over to his bike and put his riding gloves on. He watched them talking inside, but he knew Maxim was really just waiting to see the biker ride out. Diego straddled the Triumph and fiddled with his helmet, stalling as long as he could. Olivia grew angrier with every delay. The smile outside the car had been a mask for Diego's benefit. Now, apparently outside his notice, her gloves had come off.

  The TT slipped into gear and pulled out, driving away along the tracks. Maxim was patient, but nobody wanted to sit through an earful any longer than they had to. The biker didn't envy him the car ride.

  Diego de la Torre closed his eyes and pulled in a long, deep breath. The nearby pines consumed his senses. As the sound of the coupe faded, Diego felt at peace. But there was also a sharp edge somewhere, inside his heart. Harry Pendle, Julia, Hazel—everything felt stuck in limbo while his search was still open.

  He couldn't rest. Not now. Maybe not ever again.

  The biker opened his eyes and hopped off his motorcycle. Something was out here. He could smell it. And it didn't matter how many lying children or dirty old men or bossy police officers got in his face. Diego was going to dig to the bottom of this with his own two hands.

  Chapter 25

  Olivia gazed at the road ahead. Her bangs hid her eyes, but her mood was communicated through body language. Her arms crossed over her chest. Her cheeks drew in. She exhaled heavily, as if working herself up to something. She resembled a spring coiled to its smallest form, a stance of stillness betrayed by its intent to strike.

  In the back seat, Annabelle had stopped complaining. She'd attempted to run off again, this time in plain sight of her mother. Just as the night Maxim had found her, she'd taken off her shoes. Her actions were growing more erratic. Desperate.

  Maxim drove the TT silently and considered the evidence. Annabelle was traumatized by her experience, but she was running from something else. Something at home. By all accounts, she had chosen to disappear. The detective had been sympathetic with her lack of cooperation, but Diego thought it was an act. A rebellious daughter who'd acted out and continued to do so.

  That aspect of Annabelle's situation was enough to inspire doubt that her disappearance was linked to Hazel Cunningham's. The eight-year-old girl surely had no designs to leave. She wasn't a runaway. One minute she was with her mother, the next she was gone.

  But the same thing just happened to Annabelle—had it not?

  So maybe the pieces did fit together somehow. Maxim's initial belief had been that Annabelle knew something that could assist in Hazel's recovery. Considering all the angles, he still believed this to be true. It had to be.

  So the next question was: why wasn't she telling? The likely obstacles the detective came up with were fear, trauma, or malice.

  Annabelle wasn't that nefarious. Anti-authority was one thing, willingly withholding information that could save Hazel was another. She wouldn't ignore a missing little girl. She wouldn't impede Julia from finding her daughter. On top of that, Annabelle Hayes was only twelve. She couldn't have lied about not knowing Red convincingly enough to fool Maxim. No way.

  Olivia Hayes huffed noticeably. She was done with her silent tantrum and now wanted attention. Maxim knew it was a trap, but he went in anyway.

  "It was vital to rule out Red from our consideration," chanced Maxim.

  Olivia snapped back at him. "I told you her therapist said she wasn't ready. My daughter almost died in the woods. She still h
as notions of living out there. It's unhealthy. No more field trips."

  "Annabelle is one of the lucky ones," reminded Maxim.

  "No. Don't you give me that line. This entire experience has troubled her. She's a victim here and she needs to heal."

  Annabelle sucked her teeth from the back seat. "I'm sitting right here, guys. You don't have to talk about me like I'm not."

  Olivia spun around. "What was that back there, young lady? What were you thinking? You want to get lost again?" The girl didn't answer. She focused her attention on the jiggling key chain in her hands. This just worked Olivia up more. "This isn't a game, Annabelle Hayes. You could have seriously hurt yourself. Who knows what's out there at night."

  Maxim saw Annabelle roll her eyes in the rearview mirror.

  "Relax, Mom. I would've found my friends."

  "That's another thing! If you think you're seeing Bryan again, you have another thing coming. I'm calling his parents. And you won't be going over to Grady's either. This is all stopping right now."

  "Good," cried the girl. "I hate them all anyway."

  "Then why do you see them?"

  "Like you care. You don't even notice me half the time."

  "Don't say that." Olivia faced the road and jutted her chin forward. "I love you dearly. I'll stay with you twenty-four hours a day if I need to until you feel better. Whatever it takes."

  Annabelle scoffed. "Yeah. Until Mark or Danny wants to take you into Flagstaff again."

  Olivia had a tan complexion, but she turned red at that remark. "Annabelle!"

  Maxim exited the highway and drove north to Sanctuary. He hadn't interrupted them yet because watching this play out gave him a better idea of their relationship. He was finally getting a feel for what was going on back home. But the argument was devolving into an embarrassing family spat. Besides, Maxim had to keep his eyes on the prize: Hazel Cunningham.

  "Annabelle," he said, locking eyes with her in the mirror, "I know you're upset about a lot of things. I get that. But your mother cares for you a lot. Even I care about you. I'm here because I want to help you."

  The keys in her hand stopped jingling. "People say that. They always say they care. People always say nice things and ask about your day and say you're precious to them, but that's not the truth. That's just how people talk. Nobody wants to know how I really feel."

  "That's not true, honey!" Olivia softened her voice. "Please let me help you. Please tell me why you're doing this to me."

  Annabelle almost spat out a quick rejoinder but caught herself. Maxim saw her glance out the window and think over her words. Her shift in mood surprised him. "Sometimes I feel like this is all a dream," she said, "and when I dream, that's what's real. Sometimes I feel like I'm not really me. Not anymore, you know? Like I used to be something else but that part of me got lost."

  Olivia shook her hands hysterically. "Don't speak like that, Annabelle!"

  "You see?" cried the girl. "You see? You don't wanna hear what I wanna say."

  Maxim thought it best to cut in before Olivia exploded again. Besides, they were almost at the house and he hadn't gotten anywhere. "We need you to understand this isn't all about you right this second. There's an eight-year-old girl out there that was taken from her mother. I haven't mentioned this to you yet, but these things usually don't end well. Hazel Cunningham could be starving as we speak. She could be getting hurt or tortured right now. Or worse. She could be an outlet for his sexual—"

  Maxim stopped himself when he realized he was speaking to a kid, but Annabelle got the message. Her expression darkened with a knowing look.

  "Don't talk like that around her," cautioned Olivia.

  Annabelle turned away as he continued.

  "I'm sorry. But it's important that you understand: every second counts. I know you didn't ask for a little girl's life to depend on you, but it does. That's the hand life dealt you today."

  "Wait a minute," said the girl's mother. "What are you saying?"

  Maxim ignored the question and traded glances between the road and the daughter. Annabelle didn't return his gaze.

  Maxim sighed. "Annabelle, I need you to be honest with me. Have you ever seen Red before?"

  Olivia's voice sharpened. "What are you implying? She already answered you. She's never been there before."

  "Annabelle," stressed the detective. "I need to know the truth. About what you did with Bryan and Grady and BT and Allison." The girl lifted her head. "Is what Red said about being harassed true?"

  "Detective!" screeched Olivia. "That's enough! My daughter isn't lying! She's not a criminal, and she has nothing to do with that other missing girl!"

  "I didn't say that," said Maxim.

  "You did, pretty much."

  "Well, I'm sorry. It wasn't my intention. But there's a link here, Olivia. Can't you see that? Annabelle and Hazel and Jason Bower and Lachlan Munro."

  "Who's Jason Bower?"

  Maxim shook his head and sighed. "It's not important. I'm just trying to get answers. I'm just trying to understand this."

  No one said anything for a few minutes. As the detective rolled into the nice part of Sanctuary, tensions began to relax, but he knew he was quickly losing his window. There was too much to do today, and as important as Annabelle might have been to the case, he couldn't afford to babysit her while she got her head right.

  The detective attempted to ease the mood in the car. "I'm sorry, Annabelle. I'm just asking the questions I need to ask. Because—"

  "It's your job," she finished.

  Maxim smiled at her. "Yes."

  Annabelle didn't warm at the sentiment. "So this is just a paycheck to you. You're trying to help because it's what you're paid to do."

  The detective tried to be understanding at the accusation, even though the statement couldn't have been further from the truth. "This isn't just a job, Annabelle. Not to me. It's a calling. I wasn't making overtime when I was in Sycamore in the middle of the night. When I found you."

  "When you were looking for the other girl."

  "Her name's Hazel. And yes, I was looking for her. But just because I care about Hazel doesn't mean I don't also care about you." Maxim stared at the girl again. No friendly smile. No harsh glare. Just the solid countenance of a man firm in his convictions. "The reason I'm so good at this is because I care."

  His words at least gave the girl pause. Annabelle avoided eye contact once again. "A year from now, you won't even remember me."

  "That's what you believe, Annabelle. Not what I do."

  He pulled into the driveway and put the car in park. Olivia opened the door and flipped the seat forward as if she were attempting an escape. Annabelle was reluctant to exit. Her mother prodded her and she stuck a leg out, but she waited on something.

  "It doesn't matter if you're telling the truth or not," she finally said. "You can't help me."

  Maxim helplessly watched Annabelle slide out and make her way to the house. Unexpectedly, Olivia leaned in for a final word.

  "I know you mean well, Maxim. I can only imagine what that other mother must be going through. But my priority has to be my own daughter." The detective raised his eyebrows only because he was surprised this speech hadn't come sooner. "The Cunningham girl is not your case. Annabelle is. You already got to the bottom of what happened with my daughter, and I'm grateful for that. If one of those boys committed a crime and you mean to do something about that, then do it. Otherwise, this is now a family matter. My Annabelle needs rest and relaxation. She doesn't need the guilt of a raped or dead girl on her conscience. Not now."

  Maxim opened his mouth to respond but stopped himself. She was right. He shouldn't have gone there with the girl. Part of him wanted to apologize, but another part thought he'd already apologized enough.

  "I don't begrudge you your position, Olivia. And I thank you for the assistance you've already provided. Believe it or not, it was a big help."

  Olivia nodded hesitantly. "I'm glad you see things that way."
<
br />   "How about, next time, I speak to Annabelle with her therapist present? He can ensure we don't talk about anything upsetting."

  Olivia tightened her lips into a disappointed expression. "You're doing it again, Detective."

  She shut the door on him, then marched to the front door where her impatient daughter was waiting.

  Maxim rolled down the window. "Olivia."

  She spun around and stood in the driveway, waiting for his apology.

  "I'm gonna need the name of her therapist."

  She flinched, shocked that he was pursuing the matter. Her lips tightened. She didn't want to cooperate. She probably intended to tell him to go to hell.

  "I'm a police detective, Olivia. I'm going to find out anyway. You might as well tell me."

  After a quick glance to Annabelle, the woman moved to the car and lowered her voice. "Dr. Collins is an intelligent man who can help my daughter. I don't want you intimidating him."

  Maxim shook his head softly. "I won't. That's not my intention." He suddenly felt awkward under her glare.

  "Yeah? Well sometimes that's not so obvious."

  Chapter 26

  Diego watched Red from behind tree cover. He was interested in what the old man would do after the visit from police. Now that he thought he was alone, maybe he would tip his hand.

  Unfortunately, his vigil was more tedious than when he'd been outside the post office, or Jason's house. Somehow, having the target in sight but being unable to act made it unbearable. Perhaps the biker's cramped pose, crouched in the brush and constantly in danger of being seen, contributed to the torture.

  Diego thought he was on to something when Red stoked the fire in the barrel. This was the time to burn evidence. Instead, the tedium continued as Red fixed up a meal. What was worse: the preparations, while mundane, were disgusting. The old man beheaded and skinned a squirrel with a large chef's knife, stuck it to a spit, and set it to char. Diego didn't consider himself a picky eater, but he was from the city. Rodents did not constitute meals. The biker's stomach turned when the grilled aroma wafted to his position.