“Fine.”
“So, he talks to the guy, then calls the dispatch and waits. They call him back and say the owner knows they’re on the premises. Said they were contractors evaluating the site.”
“With kids in tow?”
“Exactly. The guard knew something wasn’t right, but hey, it’s not his job. Still, when he pulled out of the lot, he made sure to turn around so he could pan the area with the dash cam and get some pictures. Good thinking there. They only turn those on when they need them. Even better, he had a weird feeling, so he copied the footage. Took it with him when he got fired, along with a bunch of other footage. Then he gave it to the detective.”
“How did this get tied to the body?”
Paul leaned forward and started hitting keys while he talked. “It never officially did, but two things made the detective call us. One, the man on the beach had a paper in his wallet with the words, Magic Baby - Room 108. And two, here’s the footage the guard took.”
With that, he swung the screen around so Mel could see the badly lit scene. It was obviously taken by a car in the process of turning, the entire view sliding off and to the right. A man with dark hair, his back almost entirely to the camera, a sliver of a girl’s face as she peeked around a hotel door, rows of doors that opened directly to the parking area like a million other roadside motels.
Paul jabbed the video to stop it, then spread his fingers to enlarge the image. Mel sucked in a breath. The man had his hand on the knob to one of the doors. All she could see of his face was the curve of his cheek. In the small gap, she glimpsed the back of a child. A child with pixie short, dark hair. The number on the door was 108.
Sad Greg
Mel’s mind was still racing as she sat in the car. Baby was looking at her with concern, sensing the uneasy atmosphere. There was no time for park visits or restaurants tonight. Mel had hurried over at the end of her shift, just in time for Baby to finish her dinner. They were parked in front of the group home, night falling around them and lights coming on inside the house as various damaged young people went to their rooms.
“What is it, Mel?” Baby asked, hands primly folded into her lap and back straight against the seat. She looked so very young.
Mel dug the folded printout from her purse, then shoved the big bag into the backseat. She didn’t unfold the paper yet, only held it tightly. This death had happened three years ago, which meant Baby had been with the RV group much longer than she’d originally thought. It threw all her theories into the trash, making her examine everything Baby said anew.
It hadn’t escaped her that the paper referenced a Magic Baby and the only name Baby had was Baby. It also hadn’t escaped her that her tale of Raymond focused on magic. It was a story, yes, but how it came to be on a paper in a drowned man’s wallet and in her mind as the truth was unknown.
Before she could think about this further and get more muddled than she already was, Mel said, “I have a picture here, but I’m not sure I should show it to you. It might be someone you know. It might be someone who hurt you. I’m not sure what that would do.”
“Oh,” Baby said, glancing down at the folded square.
“Normally, a doctor or someone who was very, very skilled at these things would do this.”
The girl looked back up at her with those wide, grey eyes of hers. “But you don’t want to wait for that?”
Mel shook her head.
Holding out a hand, Baby said, “I’m alright to look. I promise.”
Mel gave her the paper and watched her face as she unfolded it. She didn’t know what to expect. Tears? A scream? Fear? That’s not what happened at all.
Instead, Baby made a soft noise and smiled sadly at the photo.
“Do you know him?” Mel asked when the girl said nothing.
Rather than answer, Baby looked at her and asked, “If I talk to you about this, then I’d like you to keep it between us, just for a few days.”
“Baby, you know I can’t do that. I’m a detective and I’m working on this case.”
The girl inclined her head to acknowledge that, but said, “And this has nothing to do with your case. Not really. I think this might be the one thing that isn’t illegal in all of this. And I’m not saying you can’t use it to do your work, but I’d like to keep the details between us. And only for a little while. You’ll understand in a few days, a week at the most. I promise. Then you can do what you want with it.”
This was not the kind of promise Mel could make. Not really. She had a job and if Baby told her anything that would advance the investigation, she would use it.
“Here’s what I can do,” Mel began. “Anything that doesn’t specifically require immediate reporting can be delayed for later reporting. Anything you give me that will help me solve this case, I have to use. Will that do?”
“Yes,” Baby said. She looked at the paper again, touched the paper cheek and said, “Sad Greg.”
Swallowing hard, Mel’s mind spun. Greg. That was his name. Gregory Ramone Smith. Baby did know him, but she wasn’t looking at the picture like she was identifying an abuser.
“You know him, Baby?”
Baby nodded, folded the paper, and handed it back. “Yes. Did something happen to him?”
“Why would you ask that?”
“Because he stopped coming and he never would have if he was alive. He needed me.”
Mel’s heart constricted in a combination of anger, pain, and a strong desire to kill someone. This girl
