Read Online STOLEN by DAWN KOPMAN WHIDDEN - Free Book Online Page A

went
onto the tray itself. A cardboard container of milk and plastic utensils added
to the meal.
    It smelled so good that Jean was tempted to grab one of the fries
for herself. Her stomach growled, reminding her that the only thing she had had
to eat was half a bag of stale chips from the vending machine since last
night’s dinner.
    “Thanks, Vanessa,” she heard Hope tell the young woman, as
she took the tray and turned back to enter the room, leaving Jean to follow
behind her.
    She wanted to dive right into interrogating the boy even
though she knew Hope was right. Heaven knows what that boy had been exposed to,
or suffered, while being held captive by those two wackos. Chastising her own
selfish thoughts, she gave herself the excuse that her stomach was running her
mouth and not her good judgment, and she wasn’t thinking clearly. If it were
her daughter, instead of that little boy, she would want someone like Hope to
stand up to any cop who might not have the kid’s best interest at heart, even
if it meant interfering with an investigation.
    She watched as the young boy woofed down the food; barely
chewing it, instead inhaling it as if he hadn’t eaten in days. Every once in a
while, he would tilt his little face and look around at the small crowd in the
room, sheepishly, as if he wasn’t minding his manners. Everyone stood watching
silently, in utter awe, as he devoured every last bite.
    Someone in the room remarked aloud, “I wish I could get my
kid to eat like that.”
    Giving the child a few minutes to digest what he ate, Jean
signaled to Hope that she wanted to begin her interview. Once she got the go
ahead, she grabbed a chair and sat down. Marty moved in closer but stayed behind
her.
    “Tristan, how are you feeling?” Jean asked, trying to make
herself as small as possible so he wouldn’t feel intimidated.
    His fingers toyed with the material on the bed sheet, but he
remained silent.
    “Tristan, that’s your name right?”
    Again she was met with silence.
    Jean smiled at him. “My name is Jean, Tristan. I know you
must be very frightened, Tristan, but you’re safe now.”
    Nothing. The boy just stared back at her, his face void of
expression. Frustrated by the lack of progress, and now trying to ignore a
sudden rise in temperature in the room, she looked around at the others to get
their take on the sudden climate change. No one else appeared to be bothered.
    Turning to Marty with a look of despair, she shrugged her
shoulders and offered him the chair, surrendering the interview to her partner.
    “You try.” She relented, abandoning the stool to Marty.
    Marty made no more progress than Jean. No matter the
question or how it was delivered, the child remained steadfast. He was either
unable, or unwilling, to tell them anything about anything, much less give them
details of what had occurred in that cabin. He gave them no answer when they
asked him “Were you there when the men were shot? Do you know the men that were
shot?” or “Who shot them?” or even “Who was he?” and “How did he get in the
woods?”
    She turned to Justin who had positioned himself in front of
the entrance to the room. “Did they test him for gunshot residue?”
    “Yes, but it came back negative,” he told her.
    If that were true, they would have to eliminate the boy as a
suspect. She had flirted with the thought that the kid may not be a witness at
all, but he was the shooter. Not that she would blame him.
    “Well, if this kid isn’t the shooter, then where the hell is
that other gun then? There had to be a third person in that cabin. We find the
third person, we find that missing gun. Then another thought crossed her mind, “unless
maybe the kid hid it.” she said, as if an afterthought, turning back to look at
the small boy.
    She reached out her arm and laid her hand on Marty’s
shoulder.
    “Thanks, Marty. I guess we’re done here for now, tell the
Captain I hope he has a speedy recovery.” She selfishly