mother used on favored waitstaff.
“I’m not lying.”
“Of course not. The woman grabbed Natalie while y’all were playing?”
“Real fast,” he nodded. “Natalie was walking in the grass to find the Frisbee. And I saw the woman moving from inside the woods, watching her. I saw her before Natalie did. But I wasn’t scared.”
“Probably not.”
“Even when she grabbed Natalie, at first I wasn’t scared.”
“But then you were?”
“No.” His voice trailed off. “I wasn’t.”
“James, could you tell me what happened when she grabbed Natalie?”
“She pulled Natalie against her, like she was hugging her. And then she looked up at me. She stared at me.”
“The woman did?”
“Yeah. She smiled at me. For a second I thought it might be all right. But she didn’t say anything. And then she stopped smiling. She put her finger to her lips to be quiet. And then she was gone into the woods. With Natalie.” He shrugged again. “I’ve already told all this before.”
“To the police?”
“First to my mom, then the police. My mom made me. But the police didn’t care.”
“Why not?”
“They thought I was lying. But I wouldn’t make that up. It’s stupid.”
“Did Natalie do anything while this was happening?”
“No. She just stood there. I don’t think she knew what to do.”
“Did the woman look like anyone you’d seen before?”
“No. I told you.” He stepped away from the screen then, began looking over his shoulder into the living room.
“Well, I’m sorry to bother you. Maybe you should have a friend come by. Keep you company.” He shrugged again, chewed on a fingernail. “You might feel better if you get outside.”
“I don’t want to. Anyway, we have a gun.” He pointed back over his shoulder at a pistol balanced on the arm of a couch, next to a half-eaten ham sandwich. Jesus.
“You sure you should have that out, James? You don’t want to use that. Guns are very dangerous.”
“Not so dangerous. My mom doesn’t care.” He looked at me straight on for the first time. “You’re pretty. You have pretty hair.”
“Thank you.”
“I’ve got to go.”
“Okay. Be careful, James.”
“That’s what I’m doing.” He sighed purposefully and walked away from the window. A second later I heard the TV squabble on again.
T here are eleven bars in Wind Gap. I went to one I didn’t know, Sensors, which must have blossomed during some flash of ’80s idiocy, judging by the neon zigzags on the wall and the mini dance floor in its center. I was drinking a bourbon and scribbling down my notes from the day when KC Law plopped down in the cushioned seat opposite me. He rattled his beer on the table between us.
“I thought reporters weren’t supposed to talk to minors without permission.” He smiled, took a gulp. James’s mother must have made a phone call.
“Reporters have to be more aggressive when the police completely shut them out of an investigation,” I said, not looking up.
“Police can’t really do their work if reporters are detailing their investigations in Chicago papers.”
This game was old. I went back to my notes, soggy from glass sweat.
“Let’s try a new approach. I’m Richard Willis.” He took another gulp, smacked his lips. “You can make your dick joke now. It works on several levels.”
“Tempting.”
“Dick as in asshole. Dick as in cop.”
“Yes, I got it.”
“And you are Camille Preaker, Wind Gap girl made good in the big city.”
“Oh, that’s me all right.”
He smiled his alarming Chiclet smile and ran a hand through his hair. No wedding ring. I wondered when I began to notice such things.
“Okay, Camille, what do you say you and I call a détente? At least for now. See how it goes. I assume I don’t need to lecture you about the Capisi boy.”
“I assume you realize there’s nothing to lecture about. Why have the police dismissed the account of the one eyewitness to the kidnapping of Natalie
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