Her Second Death (Bree Taggert #0.5) (5)

Kelly nodded and opened her phone.

“Text it to me.” Bree recited her number. When the pictured arrived, she forwarded it to Romano.

Her partner went outside to make arrangements for a unit to pick up the pink shirt and put out a BOLO. A be on the lookout would be sent to all area law enforcement with a description and photo of Lena, along with the known details of her disappearance.

Bree returned to the living room and the snapshots of Lena. The little girl was blonde, long-limbed, and bony like her mother. In each photo, Lena smiled but didn’t look at the camera. Her attention was on the stuffed elephant she clutched. The first picture was Lena at the zoo, in front of the giraffe exhibit, holding the stuffed elephant, staring at the floor. Another picture showed her in a classroom, with the same elephant in tow.

A flashback popped into Bree’s head. Her little sister, Erin, in the kitchen. Like Lena, Erin had been skinny, and she’d dragged a stuffed animal everywhere. Erin’s had been a bunny. When had Bree called her sister last? More than two weeks ago. More like three. She was a terrible sister. But she really hated to be reminded of her childhood. Every memory brought the horror and sorrow flooding back. It amazed her that grief could be so fresh more than twenty years later.

Bree shook off the memories. Her own personal horror show could wait.

“She hates having her picture taken.” Kelly picked at a scab on her arm.

“Why did Lena go with your ex yesterday?” Bree asked.

“We have an agreement. James takes her two days a week. He picks her up in the morning, takes her to school, then picks her up in the evening. She stays overnight at his place. I pick her up at school the next day after work.”

“Is James a good father?”

Kelly lifted a shoulder. “He loves her, and she loves him.”

But Bree sensed Kelly had reservations about her husband. Bree picked up a photo: Lena in James’s arms. The little girl wore the same smile, but again, she wasn’t looking at the camera. “Did anything happen when James picked her up yesterday?”

“We had a fight. James was late, as usual. Lena needed to go to school. I had to get to work at the coffee shop.” Kelly tore a piece of fingernail off with her teeth. “Plus, he was mad that I scheduled a doctor’s appointment for her on his day in a few weeks. I told him I have to take the appointments they give me. Of course, he wouldn’t trade days with me.” She jerked her hand away from her mouth. “That’s why I kicked him out. He wasn’t reliable.”

“Where does she go to school?” Bree set down the photo.

“Brighton Learning Center,” Kelly said. “I’ll call them in case James dropped her off before . . .”

She stopped before finishing the thought: he died.

Bree didn’t tell her that James had been dead since one in the morning. Kelly made the call. Then, with tears in her eyes, she said, “They haven’t seen her since James picked her up at five thirty yesterday.”

“There isn’t anyone else James could have asked to watch her today?”

Kelly shook her head. “No. Lena can’t just stay with anyone. Me, James, and Marty are the only ones who can handle her.”

“Handle her?” Bree didn’t like the sound of that.

“Lena is autistic. She’s nonverbal. She doesn’t do good with a break in her routine.” Kelly wiped a tear from her cheek. “If someone took her, she’s gonna freak out.”

“What will she do if searchers are calling her name?”

“I don’t know. Hide, maybe.” Kelly looked up, her eyes brimming with anger through her tears. “This is all James’s fault.”

Bree waited.

Kelly’s mouth set in a flat, bloodless line. “He wasn’t supposed to be doing drugs anymore. He promised, but I know he was.”

“How do you know?” Bree asked.

“I just do. He always gets short-tempered when he’s using.”

A patrol unit arrived and collected the pink top. Two more units showed up. Bree and Romano left an officer with Kelly and assigned the other three to canvas the block. Maybe a neighbor had seen Lena.

“We’ll be back after we talk to James’s father and get an update for you.”

Kelly wrapped her arms around her waist. “I’d rather go look for Lena.”

“You need to stay here in case she comes home,” Bree said. “We have no proof that someone took her. She could have simply wandered off. She might come home. The scene isn’t far from here.”

Bree and Romano went outside. They stood on the sidewalk, the cold wind pelting their faces. Bree spotted a movement of the curtain in the window of the house next door.

“We informed the usual alphabet agencies and issued a BOLO,” Romano said. That would notify everyone from the local cops to the FBI. But Amber Alerts were not typically issued without sufficient information on the abductor and/or captor’s vehicle.

“Here’s hoping the K-9 picks up her scent at the scene.” Bree updated Romano on the conversation she’d had with Kelly. The curtain shifted again.

“A nonverbal child could be hard to find.” Romano rounded the vehicle.

Bree pointed to the next house. “Give me two minutes. I want to ask the neighbor a question.”

Romano squinted. “While you’re doing that, I’ll try the unit on the other side.”