“They have her stabilized,” he says. “She’s not awake, though. They’re keeping her under for a while to let her body heal.”
“We’re on our way,” I say.
Sam and I drive back to the hospital as fast as we can, and I walk straight up to the detective standing in the hallway.
“What happened to her?” I ask.
“Emma Griffin. I should have known you would be hanging around,” he sneers. “I heard the guys were at your house before we got the call about the girl.”
“Cut the bullshit, Victor. What happened to her?”
“You know I can’t tell you that. You aren’t on this case and as far as I know, the FBI is not involved.”
He starts away from me, but I’m not going to stop. “What about the bracelet she was wearing?”
Victor turns to face me, his expression stern. “You were told that piece of evidence is being held in confidence. I’m not going to share any information about it with you.”
“What if I already know?” I ask.
His eyes narrow. “What do you mean?”
“If I’m able to tell you what that bracelet says, will you tell me about her?” I ask. He doesn’t look convinced, so I step up closer to him. “Does the bracelet have an inscription on it? On the underside of the plaque? The top has a pearl. That’s Julia’s birthstone. But the underside has an inscription, doesn’t it?”
“Yes,” he says. “But most bracelets like that do.”
Again, he starts to walk away, but I hold my ground.
“It says ‘Call Me JMEG’,” I say.
Victor turns around slowly and stares at me with fire in his eyes. “How do you know that?”
“Is that what it says?” I ask.
“Emma, how do you know what the inscription is on a bracelet belonging to a nearly dead teenager found in the woods?”
“It doesn’t belong to her. And I know that because I bought it thirteen years ago as a gift. JMEG. J-M-E-G. Julia Meyer, Emma Griffin.”
He draws in a sharp breath through his nose and pulls me into an office to the side of the hallway. Sam steps in behind us and closes the door.
“What the hell is going on here, Emma?” Victor asks.
“I don’t know all the details yet,” I say. “I’m still working them out. But I need you to talk to the officers at my house and get that hand to the lab. They need to run DNA from the hand against DNA from that girl. Then call Claire and Bill Meyer. They’re Julia’s parents. They’ll need to give DNA, too.”
“The hand doesn’t belong to the girl,” Victor says.
“No, but it could belong to her mother.”
Chapter Fifty-Five
“Emma, are you going to explain to me what’s going on?” Sam asks when we’re back in the car headed to my house.
“In the news report about Marissa’s death, they were interviewing some of the neighbors. One said she didn’t know the family who lived there very well. That they were quiet and kept to themselves. Sometimes they would have people over, but not very often. The one thing the neighbor did remember was that when her children were young, a little girl who lived at Marissa’s house would come to the park with her nanny,” I say.
“Marissa?” Sam asks.
I shake my head. “No. She said the nanny was young, like a student at the college, and that she stopped seeing both the nanny and the little girl around the same time. She figured the family must have split up. In the surveillance evidence from Carla Viceroy’s death, there are images of Julia at the mall that night with a little girl. She was bringing her to see Santa. That’s not something a nanny usually does.”
“It could be. Depending on how busy the parents are,” Sam says.
“She’s talking to someone off screen. And in her day planner it mentions a visit that night. Just like the other days that say she has a visit. A nanny doesn’t call it a ‘visit’ when she is taking care of children. She calls it work. She was visiting her daughter,” I say. “That’s what Marissa wanted to tell me.”
“Her parents didn’t mention anything about a grandchild,” Sam says, “Did they? Wouldn’t that be something that they would want to know about when she disappeared? And why would the child not live with her mother or grandparents?”
“Her parents don’t know about her,” I say. “Remember, in the day planner it says to tell her mother that she was volunteering at the hospital. A position that doesn’t even exist. Much like the study-abroad program she took seventeen years ago. It was for the end of the first semester, and the second semester as well, right? About seven months? Long enough for a girl who just found out she’s pregnant to conceal it. Have the baby. Come back and start school as if nothing ever happened.”
“Why would she do that?” Sam asks.
“Because she thought her parents would never accept the pregnancy. She thought she was doing what would protect both of them.”
“But what happened between then and now?” Sam asks. “And what does it have to do with this calendar and the missing girls?”
“That’s what I’m still piecing together.”
“Emma, I have to go back to Sherwood. When I left, I said I would get back as soon as possible. A lot of people took off for the season because I said I would be there.”
He sounds regretful, but I shake my head to try to ease his worry. “I know you do. That’s okay.”
“Are you sure?” he asks.
“Of course. You’re the sheriff. They need you. I can handle this.”
“Promise me you’ll accept help. That you won’t just do things on your own,” he says.
“You know I can’t promise that, Sam,” I say.
“Then promise to be careful. To take care of yourself,” he says.
I nod. “Always.”
After Sam leaves, I change my clothes and go to the university. I stop by Professor Harris’s office, but he isn’t there, so I go to the administration office. Nancy looks up at me with
