door to the right with her name on it. “You can use my office. I’ll call them in and take their place on the playground. That way you can have some privacy.”
Zack thanks her and we watch as she crosses the yard to call to the two young preschool teachers who were the last to see Andy Boroson alive.
“Should we interview them separately or together?” I ask Zack as we wait for the girls to join us.
“The police interviewed them separately the day Andy disappeared,” he answers. “Let’s see if their accounts differ now that they’ve had time to think about it.”
Laura Smith and Natalie Schofield greet us in the office with somber expressions. Obviously, Ms. Lawrence told them why we were here. Both girls are dressed in jeans, tennis shoes, and T-shirts. Each wears an apron over their clothes with the smiling bumblebee logo from the sign embroidered on the front. Laura, who looks to be the older of the two, mid-twenties to Natalie’s late teens, speaks first.
“We still miss Andy,” she says. “His friends do, too. Most are too young to understand and keep asking when he’ll be back. It breaks our hearts.”
I nod. “We appreciate your taking the time to see us. Agent Armstrong and I were not on Andy’s case, but we are working the most recent abduction. We think they may be connected. We’d appreciate hearing whatever you can tell us about the day Andy went missing. The smallest detail might just end up being the key to finding the Anderson boy.”
Laura fiddles with the strings to her apron. “I’m not sure where to start.”
Zack leans toward the girls, making eye contact first with Laura, then Natalie. “For instance, what was happening on the playground that day?”
This time it’s Natalie who speaks first. She’s blue-eyed and waif-thin with long blonde curls—a stark contract to Laura’s full-figure, short dark hair and brown eyes.
“Laura and I were on playground duty—like today.” Natalie closes her eyes for a moment, as if accessing the memory of that day “Andy was playing with his friends in the sand box. It’s over by the fence—there—”
She motions at the window, and Zack and I look. The sandbox is about two feet away from the fence line. It’s an enclosed rectangle about six feet by twelve, rimmed in smooth wood. There are five children playing in it, scooping white sand into plastic buckets and gleefully dumping it out again.
I return my gaze to Natalie. “What happened next?”
“One of the children fell off the swings.” She sighs. “Sabrina is one of our more dramatic kids. She started screaming at the top of her lungs. Laura and I both rushed over to see if she was really hurt. There was a little blood. She’d skinned her knees, but she refused to get up. I carried her kicking and screaming to the nurse’s office inside.”
Laura picks up the thread. “Sabrina managed to lose a shoe on the way. I picked it up and ran it to the door. My back was turned to the yard less than a minute, I swear.” She clutches her hands together. “When I returned I didn’t realize Andy was missing. It wasn’t until recess was over—maybe five minutes later—that I noticed he was gone. The kids line up on the playground before filing back to the their classrooms. Andy wasn’t in his usual spot. I went to the boy’s restroom, thinking maybe he’d be there.” She pauses and shakes her head. “But he wasn’t. That’s when we notified Ms. Lawrence. She organized an immediate search of the grounds and classrooms. Within minutes we realized—”
Natalie reaches over and pats her friend’s hands. “It’s not your fault.” She straightens and looks at us. “We went into lockdown. Ms. Lawrence alerted the police.”
Zack nods. Their story confirms all that was in the original police report. “Did you see any strangers around the school that day? Or in the days before? Someone who was unknown to you? Anyone. A delivery person perhaps?” He consults the
Zack thanks her and we watch as she crosses the yard to call to the two young preschool teachers who were the last to see Andy Boroson alive.
“Should we interview them separately or together?” I ask Zack as we wait for the girls to join us.
“The police interviewed them separately the day Andy disappeared,” he answers. “Let’s see if their accounts differ now that they’ve had time to think about it.”
Laura Smith and Natalie Schofield greet us in the office with somber expressions. Obviously, Ms. Lawrence told them why we were here. Both girls are dressed in jeans, tennis shoes, and T-shirts. Each wears an apron over their clothes with the smiling bumblebee logo from the sign embroidered on the front. Laura, who looks to be the older of the two, mid-twenties to Natalie’s late teens, speaks first.
“We still miss Andy,” she says. “His friends do, too. Most are too young to understand and keep asking when he’ll be back. It breaks our hearts.”
I nod. “We appreciate your taking the time to see us. Agent Armstrong and I were not on Andy’s case, but we are working the most recent abduction. We think they may be connected. We’d appreciate hearing whatever you can tell us about the day Andy went missing. The smallest detail might just end up being the key to finding the Anderson boy.”
Laura fiddles with the strings to her apron. “I’m not sure where to start.”
Zack leans toward the girls, making eye contact first with Laura, then Natalie. “For instance, what was happening on the playground that day?”
This time it’s Natalie who speaks first. She’s blue-eyed and waif-thin with long blonde curls—a stark contract to Laura’s full-figure, short dark hair and brown eyes.
“Laura and I were on playground duty—like today.” Natalie closes her eyes for a moment, as if accessing the memory of that day “Andy was playing with his friends in the sand box. It’s over by the fence—there—”
She motions at the window, and Zack and I look. The sandbox is about two feet away from the fence line. It’s an enclosed rectangle about six feet by twelve, rimmed in smooth wood. There are five children playing in it, scooping white sand into plastic buckets and gleefully dumping it out again.
I return my gaze to Natalie. “What happened next?”
“One of the children fell off the swings.” She sighs. “Sabrina is one of our more dramatic kids. She started screaming at the top of her lungs. Laura and I both rushed over to see if she was really hurt. There was a little blood. She’d skinned her knees, but she refused to get up. I carried her kicking and screaming to the nurse’s office inside.”
Laura picks up the thread. “Sabrina managed to lose a shoe on the way. I picked it up and ran it to the door. My back was turned to the yard less than a minute, I swear.” She clutches her hands together. “When I returned I didn’t realize Andy was missing. It wasn’t until recess was over—maybe five minutes later—that I noticed he was gone. The kids line up on the playground before filing back to the their classrooms. Andy wasn’t in his usual spot. I went to the boy’s restroom, thinking maybe he’d be there.” She pauses and shakes her head. “But he wasn’t. That’s when we notified Ms. Lawrence. She organized an immediate search of the grounds and classrooms. Within minutes we realized—”
Natalie reaches over and pats her friend’s hands. “It’s not your fault.” She straightens and looks at us. “We went into lockdown. Ms. Lawrence alerted the police.”
Zack nods. Their story confirms all that was in the original police report. “Did you see any strangers around the school that day? Or in the days before? Someone who was unknown to you? Anyone. A delivery person perhaps?” He consults the
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