As Charis and I reach the first floor, we find that no one has left, and that the group has been joined by Vic Frankford.
“I don’t know,” he is saying. “I really don’t. I’ve never been before, but I don’t know, something just kept telling me to go today.”
Evidently, he is regaling everyone with how he found the Toy Story pajamas in the woods. Equally evident is that it’s not a short story.
We remain standing in the foyer close to the staircase. Though Taylor and Anna are safely locked inside our room and Anna is completely capable of protecting Taylor, I want to be as close as possible to them as I can, and from here I can keep an eye on the front door and the stairs too. No one can even get to our room door without me knowing—much less inside the room itself.
“It’s not easy for me to get away from my market,” he says. “God knows I would’ve liked to have gone on the searches before now, but . . . my customers expect to find me when they come into my store.”
Most of his customers are tourists who don’t know him or that he is the owner.
“And I owe it to them to be there,” he says. “But I was here that night—the night little Magdalene was taken from us—and I owe something to her too. And to my dear friends, her parents. So I said to myself, I’m going today and all the rest can rot. And good thing I did, I can tell you that.”
He says it as if he hadn’t been there the pajamas wouldn’t have been found. But if he hadn’t been there someone else would’ve walked his line. Even with him there, a few feet in either direction and the person next to him would have found it.
“I try to listen to that little voice inside my head,” he is saying. “It has never led me astray. It’s a tiny whisper most of the time, but when I hear it I do my best to honor it by doing what it is telling me to do.”
“What exactly did it tell you to do?” Henrique asks, and it’s obvious he’s having some fun at Vic’s expense. “Did it give you the coordinates of the garment?”
“No, nothing like that,” Vic says, and it’s equally as obvious that he is oblivious to what is happening. “It’s very subtle. Like an impression. A feeling.”
“A thought?” Henrique offers.
“Sure, yeah. Like that. The thing is, it’s easy to miss.”
“Many things in this world are,” Henrique says with a smile.
During my last visit to our room upstairs, Anna had informed me that she had called her dad and he would be picking up her and Taylor in the morning, and that since they wouldn’t be home for a while anyway, I should stay to work the case with Roderick. I tried to talk her into reconsidering and us just going home, but she was adamant that she and Taylor were going to her parents’ place in Dothan and that the time apart would do us good.
As the others are talking, I text Roderick and let him know I can work the case with him if he still wants me.
Hell yeah, I still want you to, he had responded. That’s great news. I’m five minutes away. I’ll brief the family and then we can meet. And I’m bringing a deputy to stay there tonight for extra security.
“I hate to leave good company,” Derinda says, “but this ol’ gal can’t hang like she used’a could.”
“Investigator Brandt is on his way,” I say.
“He’s been on his way for hours now,” she says. “Besides, just like you, he ain’t gonna tell us anything anyway. ’Course, if I’m wrong and he does, call me immediately. If not, I’ll be back over in the morning and y’all can tell me what he didn’t tell you then.”
“You sure you don’t want to stay here tonight?” Keith asks.
She shakes her head. “Hard enough just coming in here. I could never sleep here.”
“Text us when you get home safe,” Christopher says.
“Will do,” she says. “And thank you all again for all y’all are doing for Magdalene and our family.”
“I’ll walk you out,” Henrique says, slowly pushing himself up. “I too can hear my own bed calling.”
Beside me, Charis yawns. “Sounds like you’re ready for your bed too,” I say.
“That may be,” she says, “but wild, wild horses couldn’t drag me away from here tonight. I have to hear what Mr. Brandt says.”
“It has to be him, doesn’t it?” Vic Frankford is saying.
He’s looking up at the ceiling, and it’s clear he’s talking about Hal Raphael.
“I mean, if it’s not,” he continues, “it’s one of us, and there’s no way it’s one of us.”
“It’s him,” Clarence Samuelson says. “I can’t believe he’s back here. Can’t believe y’all are letting him stay here.”
“If it’s him,” Keith says, “this is exactly where we want him to be.”
“I feel like between us, we could get him to confess,” Clarence says.
Keith glances over at me. I shake my head.
“For now, let’s wait to see what Roderick has to say,” Keith says.
“It’s not just that a coerced confession wouldn’t be admissible in court,” I say. “It’s that you can’t trust them. Apply the right amount of torture and you can get anybody to say anything.”
Christopher nods vigorously.
“I get it,” Clarence says. “It’s just hard to do nothing.”
“Things are happening,” I say. “We have a potentially hugely significant clue. It just takes time. And lots of it. I know how trying it can be, but unfortunately there’s no way around it, no shortcut that leads to anything good.”
“It’s not anything good I want it to lead to,” Clarence says.
“By good I meant anything approximating justice.”
A little while later, the front door buzzer sounds and several people jump.
Keith steps over behind the desk and looks at the monitor. “It’s Roderick,” he says as he buzzes him in.