Amy Kittrell reared back as if stung. Her wan face tightened and her skin suddenly looked like parchment.
Her mouth opened soundlessly and she didn’t seem to breathe.
‘What? What did you say? What did Maddie say?’ her voice trembled.
‘Maddie revealed everything. How your husband used to beat you. That one time he broke your shoulder.’
The mother shuddered, her eyes wide, her hands doing the twisting motion.
Gramma rose and brought her a glass of water. She grabbed it and drank it, heedless of the drops that spilled and ran down her chin.
‘It’s not true. Maddie doesn’t know anything.’ Her voice rose in a shout and she slammed the glass on a table.
‘Ma’am, why would your daughter lie?’
‘She didn’t. My girl never lied about anything. She misinterpreted.’
‘Josh never raised a hand to me. We were in… Oh my God.’ A hand cupped her mouth. ‘You think Josh took her because of that, don’t you?’
Her eyes looked accusingly at Meghan, then at Beth, and lastly at Gramma.
None of them responded.
Amy Kittrell took a deep breath. She rose, walked to the door, and held it open.
‘Get out.’
‘Get out of my house.’
The twins were in Gramma’s home half an hour later. They hadn’t spoken on the drive back and when Gramma ushered them in, Lizzie and Peaches had run up to them, questioning looks in their eyes.
‘We are searching, honey.’
‘The cops, us, everyone in the city are hunting for Maddie. We will find her.’ Meghan hugged Peaches tightly and released her when Gramma approached from the kitchen. She was carrying steaming mugs of coffee and a batch of freshly baked cookies, on a tray.
Beth bit into a cookie, savored it for a moment -- the world could be ending, however there was always time for a cookie -- and looked at Gramma. ‘We should have warned you, ma’am. We felt a shock tactic would work best.’
Gramma waved her apology away. ‘You think that might be the reason?’
‘We don’t know, ma’am.’ Meghan confessed. ‘If he was abusive toward her –’ she raised a calming hand at Beth’s protest.
‘I’m not saying he wasn’t. However we have to look at all possibilities.’
She returned to Gramma, ‘If all that’s true, then their marriage might be in trouble.’
‘Kittrell snapped for some reason and made away with his daughter.’
Something about the distraught mother’s behavior struck her. ‘Ma’am, you must have spoken to her several times since yesterday. Met her as well.’
‘How was she with you?’
Gramma was puzzled. Her brow furrowed and she replied slowly, thinking. ‘Upset.’ A slight smile crept on her face.
‘That’s an understatement. In shock. Falling to pieces. Unable to think or act.’
Beth got where Meghan was heading to. ‘She wasn’t furious with you?’
Gramma frowned. ‘No. Why would she be?’
‘Most moms would feel anger.’
‘They would feel betrayed, if their child was kidnapped while in someone else’s care.’
‘They would be accusatory. We have seen friends turn on friends. Families split apart.’
An understanding light came in Gramma’s eyes.
‘Dear God, what was going on in that home?’
Neither of the twins felt like having lunch; however Zeb made them stop at a café near their office and grab a bite.
Meghan and Beth took the opportunity to speak to the stores, restaurants, and coffee shops in the neighborhood. They handed out Maddie’s photographs which they had gotten from the police. They spoke to baristas and the regulars.
They turned up empty-handed.
In a city of eight million, no one saw anything. People lived in their private bubbles and thousands of them never broke out of theirs.
Their quiet desperation was broken once by Beth when she said she would get a bullhorn and ride around the city calling out Maddie’s name. Meghan rolled her eyes at that and shoved her in the direction of the next store.
It was late afternoon by the time they had finished canvassing stores and were climbing into their ride when Meghan’s phone rang.
‘Chang,’ she mouthed when she saw the number.
‘Yeah, super cop. Give me some good news.’
She listened and ended the call with a We’ll be there.
‘We have a meeting with Mayo and Kane.’
‘We left several messages for them and at last one of their partners returned our call,’ Chang told them when he and Pizaka greeted them outside the law firm’s offices.
The firm was housed in a modern, forty-floor high-rise in downtown Manhattan, a block away from Freedom Tower.
Chang had made an effort for the meeting. His jacket had fewer wrinkles. Pizaka looked as if he was going for a modeling shoot.
Chang led the way inside a cavernous lobby, past smiling security guards, and toward an elevator bank.
A well-dressed woman greeted them and took them to the seventeenth floor.
They waited for a few moments in a reception area and presently a tall man approached them.
He had a red tie over a crisp white shirt. The shirt was tucked into trousers whose edges rivaled Pizaka’s.
His smile was white, his blonde hair was smartly cut and his body language said, Trust me. I’m here to help you. At five grand an hour.
He shook their hands with a firm grip and introduced himself.
‘I am Josh Kittrell.’