There were questions once the girls realized they weren’t in trouble, that the police weren’t what they’d always been told by their captors. The questions came when they knew that they were safe. That was normal and expected. It’s the way many child victims reacted. Patiently, Mel and Paul answered with as much truth as they could, establishing a bond, and most importantly, establishing trust.
Except the girl by the window.
She’d barely moved a muscle throughout the question and answer session. She watched intently, her eyes far too knowing for a girl that young. And she watched Mel with more intensity than the rest, her eyes surveying Mel like she was sizing her up. As they closed in on an hour and a few of the girls began to yawn, Mel grew more certain that this silent girl was her caller.
“And what’s your name?” she asked the girl. She’d not answered when they made the first round, only remained silent and looked over her shoulder out the window. Two of the older girls in the group had looked at the girl with something like suspicion. Those looks were uneasy, almost wary, but no one else had offered a name for the girl either. The rest of the girls acted like the silent girl wasn’t even in the room.
This time, the girl would have to purposefully snub Melody to not answer. She didn’t.
“Everyone calls me Baby,” she said.
Her voice was calm and her tone very matter of fact, like she hadn’t just been rescued from a little chicken sex farm. Was this the voice that had called and whispered into the phone? Mel wasn’t sure. The girl on the phone had been whispering softly, and it was almost impossible to recognize a voice from that. Electronic analysis might be able to, but that would take time. Like everything else.
“Is that your name?” Mel asked, wanting to give her a chance to shed the identity given to her and claim her own again.
Her gaze didn’t waver. She seemed entirely unaffected by the slight challenge to the name. “It’s as good a name as any. I’ll answer to it.”
“And do you have anyone you’d like me to call for you?”
Baby smiled a little, but it wasn’t the good kind of smile. It was the kind that came when you really wanted to shake your head in exasperation or say something less than complimentary. She answered though.
“Anyone who might remember me is long gone.”
Long gone? What did that mean? Did that mean dead, or traveled away, maybe imprisoned? It could mean anything, but that was a strange way to put it.
Before Mel could think of the right way to ask the question again so she might get a more precise answer, two nurses pushed open the heavy door. They breezed in, bringing with them a fresh wave of antiseptic air. Their scrubs were bright and happy, one shirt covered in frolicking puppies, the other’s a profusion of wildflowers.
The younger nurse said, rather pointedly, “They’ve been up all night.”
That’s all she said, and it was all she needed to say. She was right. The girls had begun their medical processing, but they would need more. Some of it would be invasive and emotionally difficult. They needed their rest, a little peace to restore their minds as much as their bodies.
One of the older girls, a dark-haired, pale skinned beauty who was far, far too thin, laid a hand softy over the ear of the girl sleeping in her lap. She said, “Please don’t make us go into other rooms.” Her glance downward at the small sleeping girl in her lap said all the rest.
The older nurse pursed her lips, but it was to restrain emotion more than anything else. She nodded at the younger nurse, then said to the girl, “We’re bringing in cots and sleeping chairs. It might get crowded, but we’ll take out these big beds to make room.”
Her lips trembling, the older girl smoothed her hand over the hair of the sleeping child and nodded.
That was that, Mel knew. The nurse was right, and as much urgency as the police felt, the girls needed to rest and be left alone for a while. Safe and together and unbothered. That wasn’t to say they wouldn’t be watched, however. A technician would be left at the nurse’s station to watch the monitor in the hospital room for anything important. As she followed the younger nurse into the hallway, Mel glanced back. She could have sworn there was a smile in the eyes of the girl who called herself Baby.
The Paperwork
“We’re going to have to get a special warrant for this,” Captain Mann said, slapping a file of papers onto his desk.
He looked disgusted, but whether he felt that way because they’d have to argue a warrant, or simply at the idea that they needed such a warrant, was up in the air. It was probably a bit of both. It had been days since the arrest, yet they were facing more roadblocks with each passing day. There should be fewer. The system was designed to gain momentum, but this time, something…or someone…was blocking their progress.
Paul put a hand to his brow and leaned heavily on the arm of the chair he was currently occupying. Mel, in the other chair in front of the Captain’s desk, looked him over. That murderous glint he’d had the first day wasn’t going away as they worked the case. If anything, it was getting worse. The more they knew, the worse it became.
Jerking his hand from his brow, Paul said, “We’ve already got enough trouble. Advocacy groups are getting in on this. Even Social Services is on the fence. One of the case workers said in her report that she doesn’t think it will serve her client’s best interest to be found by family. It’s
