Bringing All the Bad, стр. 13
“Which means we might have a line on two of them. Two very big fish.”
He nodded. “The difference in the tale she was told and the ones that Papa’s girls were told seems out of place if she was always with him. And we can’t forget that whoever called knew way too much about that operation to be brand new. That’s another wrinkle.”
“So what should I do? Just keep engaging?”
He nodded. “She likes you for some reason, and if she’s the caller, then she asked for you by name as well. Somehow, some way, that caller knew you or knew of you. If it’s her, then you’re the one who’s going to be able to get information out of her.”
“But the story. The social worker wrote that we shouldn’t reinforce false narratives or whatever. It was right in that summary you just showed me.”
“Yeah, she did. I didn’t say you should reinforce it. Instead, I want you to listen. Just listen. No matter how outlandish, you’ll get something real from her story. And maybe when she’s done, you’ll get the truth.”
Mel let her hands slide over the arms of her chair, let the metal cool her palms and bring down the heat of anger inside. She wasn’t a social worker, but she was good at her job. She was a good listener.
“Okay, Captain. I can do that. I can listen.”
Shoes and Socks
It wouldn’t be the first time Mel shopped for kid’s clothes. Like any teacher who wound up spending part of their salary for classroom supplies, detectives who worked in their division often spent some of theirs on the kids who passed through their halls.
It wasn’t as if the foster system didn’t supply them, but it was rarely anything other than well-worn hand me downs or thrift store rejects sent by truck and sorted into vague sizes. In short, kids didn’t get great clothes, or even new ones, once they went into the system.
The last time Mel had gone on this sort of trip it had been for a four-year old girl. She hadn’t been abused, but had instead been found after five days locked inside an apartment with her dead mother. Overdose. The neighbors hadn’t called the police at her continuous cries, but rather when the stink got so bad they couldn’t stand it. The girl had survived by wedging a chair between her dead mother’s outstretched legs so she could get water from the faucet.
The investigation took a while, and her unit was called in simply because no one knew what had happened until the investigation ran its course. Every single thing from that little girl’s apartment was fly-spotted or covered in maggots, and all of it reeked of death. So, Mel had taken her shopping. Clean clothes can do wonders. She hoped it would do wonders for Baby too.
Baby was wearing handed down or donated clothes, and her slight frame meant nothing fit her well. The shoes were a disgrace. When Mel suggested they shop for something more suitable, Baby gave her that same small smile she always gave and that was that.
As they walked around Target, perusing everything on offer, Mel let Baby take the lead. Making her own decisions and having something she controlled was an important step. Only if she began to choose things that were inappropriate would Mel step in.
Mel liked Target. She liked it a lot. So did a lot of other people given the crowd today. Not one person was wearing ad-blockers either, which meant everyone could see everyone else’s face. It was a novel thing.
Target had captured a huge market share a couple of years back when they’d started the Ad-Free campaign. No digital ads of any kind in any of their stores. The only things resembling ads were old-fashioned signs on sale racks. Other stores had tried to follow suit, but Target had been the first and they now had a fiercely loyal customer base because of it. Mel included.
At a rack of colorful t-shirts, Baby held a shirt covered with cartoon characters against her chest and said, “Somehow, I don’t think this is exactly me.”
Mel chuckled at that. It was true. Despite her very childlike appearance, the bright and sunny, overly sugary offerings didn’t really suit her.
“Do you want to try someplace else?” Mel asked.
Baby gazed around the racks, then sighed. “No. We’ll find the right things. We just have to wade through all this first.”
As always, her word choices were at odds with her age, her inflection almost old world. Mel wondered if that went with her story. Had she believed it so entirely that it changed the way she spoke?
Spotting something, Baby pointed. “Ah! Over there. I detect plain things.”
And she did. In a smaller section, there were polite dresses and less blatantly cheerful shirts. Baby made quick work of selecting, only stopping to ask how many she was supposed to buy. Mel’s arms grew heavy with clothes before they made their way to the dressing rooms.
She wondered as they counted items and got their plastic number if Baby would be okay in a dressing room. Some of the girls had been reported as having difficulty with changing clothes. One, the talkative girl named Lydia, would only shower or change if the door was blocked by a chair and the lights dimmed.
Baby turned out not to have that problem. She was business-like, but when uncertain, she came out and asked for Mel’s opinion. It felt odd to be so normal. Mel, like many others who managed to last in the unit, had decided against having children. This made her wonder if she’d made the right choice. Of course, she’d wondered that a thousand times, so it wasn’t a new feeling.
As they left with their packages, Baby stopped in the restroom and changed into a dress that hinted at the spring to come. When she exited, she was a different girl entirely. The blue dress was made