Ben shone the light inside. He could see the blanket in back and the junk food trash on the floor. No sign of the little girl.
Ben stood up and looked over at the diner window. He could see Roger and Kat watching him from inside. He turned and crossed over to the maroon truck. The door opened as he approached.
“That poor little girl still missing, Officer?” the friendly woman in her 60s asked as she peered out the cab door.
“I’m afraid so,” Ben answered. “What’s your name, ma’am?”
“Florence. Florence White,” she answered. “Oh dear Lord. I told him I ain’t seen nothing the whole time.” Ben looked past her, into the shadowy cab as she prattled on. “You let me know if there’s anything I can do, won’t you?”
“Just let us know if you see anything.” Ben leaned back, his cursory examination of the cab complete, and smiled at the pleasant older woman.
“Yes, yes,” Florence said. “Poor thing. Out here in this weather.”
Ben had seen enough; she was certainly not someone he should waste any time interrogating. He nodded and started away.
Florence watched him go for a moment, then closed her door. She shifted her angle and could see Ben through her windshield as he crossed over to his patrol car and climbed inside. She watched him click his radio on and start talking to someone as he typed into his squad car computer.
He seemed like such a nice man, Florence thought. It was too bad. He was after all, a man, just like the rest. She knew she couldn’t believe all that sweet talk and kindness. In the end they all only wanted one thing, and it was a dirty, unclean thing.
Florence grabbed a pump bottle of hand sterilizer and filled her palm with the cleansing liquid. She rubbed her pale palms vigorously as she watched Ben. She could already imagine what he’d do if he could. His large black hands squeezing her breasts and buttocks like a desperate animal. His lips digging into hers and his tongue ramming down her throat.
God it was hideous. Vile and hideous. And, of course, the worst part of all, the large monstrous thing that would rage from his loins, ripping, stabbing, and violating her.
Florence hated imagining things like this, but she knew she had to. She knew she had to remind herself so she wouldn’t be fooled again.
She took a deep breath and looked away from the vile man; the moment was passing, thank God.
She turned and retreated into her sleeping area, her safe place that was filled with glorious little things. Stuffed animals, little jackets, trousers and caps. Her special collection of children’s belongings.
Florence settled back and grabbed her collection of little socks, socks that had been on the feet of the little angels. The sweet innocents, pure and unspoiled. She smiled to herself as she gently caressed the socks. It made her feel so good inside, so calm.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
All this waiting was driving Roger insane. After he had seen the cop leave Russell’s truck, he couldn’t believe it. He was seconds away from bolting from the diner and racing over there. If that idiot cop couldn’t find Lilly, he could. He would beat the shit out of the degenerate until he confessed.
It was Kat who had talked him down, not with words but by being there. He knew if he had made a move, she would have stopped him. There was something about her that was keeping him grounded.
But now, what was that cop doing in his patrol car? Maybe he had found something and was calling in for more help. Maybe he….
Headlights swung around the side of the building.
Roger looked over. It was a pickup truck. “Now who?” he said.
Kat squinted out the window as the truck came to a stop outside the front door. “It’s just Kincaid,” she said. “Kincaid Lewis, our mechanic.”
The mechanic hopped out of his pickup and hurried inside. He paused in the foyer, stomped the mud off his boots, and brushed the rain off his jacket. “Just got word that the top of the grade’s
Ben stood up and looked over at the diner window. He could see Roger and Kat watching him from inside. He turned and crossed over to the maroon truck. The door opened as he approached.
“That poor little girl still missing, Officer?” the friendly woman in her 60s asked as she peered out the cab door.
“I’m afraid so,” Ben answered. “What’s your name, ma’am?”
“Florence. Florence White,” she answered. “Oh dear Lord. I told him I ain’t seen nothing the whole time.” Ben looked past her, into the shadowy cab as she prattled on. “You let me know if there’s anything I can do, won’t you?”
“Just let us know if you see anything.” Ben leaned back, his cursory examination of the cab complete, and smiled at the pleasant older woman.
“Yes, yes,” Florence said. “Poor thing. Out here in this weather.”
Ben had seen enough; she was certainly not someone he should waste any time interrogating. He nodded and started away.
Florence watched him go for a moment, then closed her door. She shifted her angle and could see Ben through her windshield as he crossed over to his patrol car and climbed inside. She watched him click his radio on and start talking to someone as he typed into his squad car computer.
He seemed like such a nice man, Florence thought. It was too bad. He was after all, a man, just like the rest. She knew she couldn’t believe all that sweet talk and kindness. In the end they all only wanted one thing, and it was a dirty, unclean thing.
Florence grabbed a pump bottle of hand sterilizer and filled her palm with the cleansing liquid. She rubbed her pale palms vigorously as she watched Ben. She could already imagine what he’d do if he could. His large black hands squeezing her breasts and buttocks like a desperate animal. His lips digging into hers and his tongue ramming down her throat.
God it was hideous. Vile and hideous. And, of course, the worst part of all, the large monstrous thing that would rage from his loins, ripping, stabbing, and violating her.
Florence hated imagining things like this, but she knew she had to. She knew she had to remind herself so she wouldn’t be fooled again.
She took a deep breath and looked away from the vile man; the moment was passing, thank God.
She turned and retreated into her sleeping area, her safe place that was filled with glorious little things. Stuffed animals, little jackets, trousers and caps. Her special collection of children’s belongings.
Florence settled back and grabbed her collection of little socks, socks that had been on the feet of the little angels. The sweet innocents, pure and unspoiled. She smiled to herself as she gently caressed the socks. It made her feel so good inside, so calm.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
All this waiting was driving Roger insane. After he had seen the cop leave Russell’s truck, he couldn’t believe it. He was seconds away from bolting from the diner and racing over there. If that idiot cop couldn’t find Lilly, he could. He would beat the shit out of the degenerate until he confessed.
It was Kat who had talked him down, not with words but by being there. He knew if he had made a move, she would have stopped him. There was something about her that was keeping him grounded.
But now, what was that cop doing in his patrol car? Maybe he had found something and was calling in for more help. Maybe he….
Headlights swung around the side of the building.
Roger looked over. It was a pickup truck. “Now who?” he said.
Kat squinted out the window as the truck came to a stop outside the front door. “It’s just Kincaid,” she said. “Kincaid Lewis, our mechanic.”
The mechanic hopped out of his pickup and hurried inside. He paused in the foyer, stomped the mud off his boots, and brushed the rain off his jacket. “Just got word that the top of the grade’s
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