Read Online Reckoning: A Fallen Siren Novel by S.J. Harper - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: S.J. Harper
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spreadsheet, run my fingers down a column of numbers. “I think she’s been depositing more than babysitting and birthday money. Hannah opened this account last June with an initial deposit of close to fourteen hundred dollars. Since then she’s made substantial weekly deposits.”
“How substantial?”
“Two hundred per week,” Zack says.
Mrs. Clemons rises abruptly, grabs her glasses, and returns to snatch up the spreadsheet. After a moment, she says, “This has to be a mistake. Three thousand dollars? Hannah babysits. But only during the summer. She’s too busy with her schoolwork and cheerleading during the school year to work. And no way could she have taken a job without me knowing.” She slaps the sheet back down on the table. “It’s another Hannah Clemons. It has to be.”
I repeat the Social Security number attached to the account. “Is that your daughter’s Social Security number?”
“Yes.”
Zack hands her a copy of the account application. “Her handwriting?”
Mrs. Clemons nods. Like Julie’s parents, she seems baffled.
While Zack collects the photos and bank documents, I ask the next question.
“The deposits occurred throughout the summer. What was Hannah doing then?”
It takes Mrs. Clemons a few moments to regain her composure. She slips her glasses down the bridge of her nose and peers at Zack over the lenses. “Let’s see,Hannah spent a week at cheer camp right after school got out. Then she went on a college trip. She was so excited when she came home. She wants to go to Berkeley.” Mrs. Clemons pulls another tissue out of the box and wipes her eyes again before continuing. “The rest of the time she did some babysitting for a neighbor’s kids downstairs. Nothing that would account for this.”
Zack follows up with, “What about socially? What did she do with her spare time?”
“She didn’t have that much spare time during the week. But she did things with her fellow cheerleaders on the weekends. Practices, movies, parties. Friday or Saturday nights mostly.”
“What about her father? You said he’s been out of the house for six months. Has she spent time with him? Could he have given her the money?”
She shakes her head. “First of all, he doesn’t have any money. And Hannah hasn’t wanted to see him, which is fine with me.”
She looks suddenly tired, her face drained of color. The strain she’s been under for the past couple days, not to mention the appearance of two FBI agents on her doorstep, is taking its toll. My sympathy goes out to her.
“Just one more thing,” I say. “Could we take a look at Hannah’s room?”
Her eyes widen in panic. “I dusted her room. Should I not have done that? The police said they were through.”
“No worries,” I assure her. “We’re not crime scene investigators.”
“I’m sure the police were thorough,” adds Zack. “Sometimes a fresh eye sees things differently.”
She sighs. “I was hoping you had new information, but you don’t, do you?”
“We have three missing girls now, Mrs. Clemons. Agent Armstrong and I are giving this case our undivided attention. It’s our top priority, our only priority right now. We hope to have news soon.”
She reaches for my hand and squeezes. “You’ll find my Hannah.”
Her desperation reminds me of another mother’s. I’d almost forgotten those early days, when we were all still searching and hopeful—before the banishment, the curse. When life was simple, idyllic, and love was a promise arriving with the dawn of each new day.
Before Demeter’s bitter thirst for vengeance replaced every bit of kindness and warmth she possessed.
The memory prompts me to take the hand of the woman looking at me so expectantly. “We’re very good at our jobs, Mrs. Clemons. I believe we’ll find her.”
Zack snaps his notebook closed. “We’ll do our best.” His tone is clipped, sharp, directed at me. Then, “Will you show us to Hannah’s room?” he asks Mrs.
“How substantial?”
“Two hundred per week,” Zack says.
Mrs. Clemons rises abruptly, grabs her glasses, and returns to snatch up the spreadsheet. After a moment, she says, “This has to be a mistake. Three thousand dollars? Hannah babysits. But only during the summer. She’s too busy with her schoolwork and cheerleading during the school year to work. And no way could she have taken a job without me knowing.” She slaps the sheet back down on the table. “It’s another Hannah Clemons. It has to be.”
I repeat the Social Security number attached to the account. “Is that your daughter’s Social Security number?”
“Yes.”
Zack hands her a copy of the account application. “Her handwriting?”
Mrs. Clemons nods. Like Julie’s parents, she seems baffled.
While Zack collects the photos and bank documents, I ask the next question.
“The deposits occurred throughout the summer. What was Hannah doing then?”
It takes Mrs. Clemons a few moments to regain her composure. She slips her glasses down the bridge of her nose and peers at Zack over the lenses. “Let’s see,Hannah spent a week at cheer camp right after school got out. Then she went on a college trip. She was so excited when she came home. She wants to go to Berkeley.” Mrs. Clemons pulls another tissue out of the box and wipes her eyes again before continuing. “The rest of the time she did some babysitting for a neighbor’s kids downstairs. Nothing that would account for this.”
Zack follows up with, “What about socially? What did she do with her spare time?”
“She didn’t have that much spare time during the week. But she did things with her fellow cheerleaders on the weekends. Practices, movies, parties. Friday or Saturday nights mostly.”
“What about her father? You said he’s been out of the house for six months. Has she spent time with him? Could he have given her the money?”
She shakes her head. “First of all, he doesn’t have any money. And Hannah hasn’t wanted to see him, which is fine with me.”
She looks suddenly tired, her face drained of color. The strain she’s been under for the past couple days, not to mention the appearance of two FBI agents on her doorstep, is taking its toll. My sympathy goes out to her.
“Just one more thing,” I say. “Could we take a look at Hannah’s room?”
Her eyes widen in panic. “I dusted her room. Should I not have done that? The police said they were through.”
“No worries,” I assure her. “We’re not crime scene investigators.”
“I’m sure the police were thorough,” adds Zack. “Sometimes a fresh eye sees things differently.”
She sighs. “I was hoping you had new information, but you don’t, do you?”
“We have three missing girls now, Mrs. Clemons. Agent Armstrong and I are giving this case our undivided attention. It’s our top priority, our only priority right now. We hope to have news soon.”
She reaches for my hand and squeezes. “You’ll find my Hannah.”
Her desperation reminds me of another mother’s. I’d almost forgotten those early days, when we were all still searching and hopeful—before the banishment, the curse. When life was simple, idyllic, and love was a promise arriving with the dawn of each new day.
Before Demeter’s bitter thirst for vengeance replaced every bit of kindness and warmth she possessed.
The memory prompts me to take the hand of the woman looking at me so expectantly. “We’re very good at our jobs, Mrs. Clemons. I believe we’ll find her.”
Zack snaps his notebook closed. “We’ll do our best.” His tone is clipped, sharp, directed at me. Then, “Will you show us to Hannah’s room?” he asks Mrs.
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