“Good. How about his eyes?”
“Green.”
A knock on the door stops me from continuing. Misty goes to it and opens it just enough for her to stick her head out and look into the hallway.
“Oh,” she says. “I’m so happy you came.”
“Do you think we can see her?” a voice asks so softly I almost don’t hear it.
But I recognize it. Vivian.
“I think she’d love to see you,” Misty says.
Misty opens the door the rest of the way and Vivian steps in, with Allison right behind her. I step back away from the bed to give the girls room to get closer, but also so I can watch Ashley’s reaction to them. For a brief moment, there isn’t one. She just looks at the two girls, her eyes searching their faces. Then something seems to click and recognition seeps into the stare.
“Hi,” she says.
“Hi, Ashley,” Allison says through tears, getting closer to the bed. “I’m so happy to see you.”
Ashley’s mouth curves into a hesitant smile. The girls go on either side of the bed and lean down to hug her.
“We were just talking about what happened the night she went missing,” I tell them.
Vivian looks into Ashley’s face.
“What did happen? Where did you go?” she asks.
“I don’t remember,” Ashley tells her.
“There are big chunks of her memory missing,” Misty says.
“That’s normal, right?” Allison asks, turning to me. “I mean, after what she went through, she can’t be expected to remember everything.”
“Yes, that is normal. There’s a chance the memories will come back. We’ll work with a therapist to safely draw the memories forward,” I say.
“A therapist?” Ashley frowns.
“We don’t really need to do that, do we?” Misty asks. “If she doesn’t remember, that’s better, isn’t it? She doesn’t have to relive everything that happened to her.”
“Wouldn’t it be harder on her if you made her go through that?” Vivian asks.
“An experience like this can be deeply traumatizing in ways that aren’t immediately obvious. Even if she doesn’t remember right now, it could deeply damage her quality of life if trauma like this isn’t addressed in a safe way. And also, frankly, for all we know, whoever this man is who took her might have other girls kidnapped. Other girls we need to reunite with their families. Any information we can get could be valuable.”
Misty, Allison, and Vivian all give each other a quick, nervous look, but they seem to understand.
“It won’t be something we need to do immediately,” I say, bringing the attention back to Ashley rather than talking about her as if she’s not even in the room. As if she’s just a concept. “We’ll give you some time to recover. But as soon as you think you might be ready, it could be very valuable. You could remember something that will lead us to who did this.”
The door opens and Detective Parrish, one of the officers working on Ashley’s case, sticks his head inside.
“Agent Griffin, can I have a word with you for a second?” he asks.
I look at Ashley. “I’m just going to step out with the officer. I’ll be right back. Do you need anything?”
She shakes her head.
“It will be good for her to spend some time with Allison and Vivian, won’t it, honey?” Misty asks, running her hand over Ashley’s dirty, matted hair.
Soon, after they’ve finished the initial tests and make sure she is completely stable, they’ll let her take a shower. I can’t even imagine how good it will feel to be clean. But the tests and examinations she’s going to have to go through first are unfathomable for someone who’s already been through what I can only imagine she has.
But the state of her hair isn’t what has my attention right now. I’m interested in the way she’s looking at her friends. There’s something there behind her eyes.
“Ashley?” I ask. “Are you okay?”
She straightens as though she didn’t realize she was staring that way, and nods.
“They just look different,” she says. “They’ve grown up.”
Allison laughs through her tears. “So have you.”
She reaches out and takes Ashley’s hand, earning a tender, cautious closing of bruised fingers around hers. They look at each other through years and experiences Allison couldn’t begin to understand.
I walk out into the hallway to join Detective Parrish and another officer waiting for me a few feet away from the door. As I’m walking toward them, I hear muffled voices and sobbing. Looking down to the end of the hall, I see Leona pacing back and forth in front of a window. She’s a wreck, shaking her head and gripping her arms tightly around herself. Someone’s leaning against the wall around the corner talking to her, but I can’t see who it is.
“Have you found something?” I ask.
“No,” Parrish tells me. “The opposite. We need to find something. Ashley’s friends still haven’t submitted to the DNA testing.”
“Did you issue warrants?” I ask.
“No. I thought it would be a more effective approach to ask them to voluntarily submit to testing so that it doesn’t come off as aggressive. I was hoping you would try to convince them,” he says.
I let out a sigh. No wonder they haven’t gotten the DNA yet. As much as people would like to think others care about the people around them enough to cooperate with investigations if asked, it rarely happens that way. There’s an intense sense of control and freedom that tells people they don’t have to do what anyone asks. They should only help if they are forced.
I’ve seen it time and again when it comes to law enforcement. Something as silly as not providing identification when asked, or thinking if they are being pulled over close to home, it’s perfectly fine to just keep going until they get to their driveways. All the way to refusing to submit to searches, testing, or interviews that could be invaluable to bringing killers or kidnappers to justice.
“Fine,” I sigh. “I’ll talk to them. But be ready for a
