Мэри Эндрюс - The Newcomer

“You were a very brave girl,” Joe said. “The bravest little girl I’ve ever known.”

Maya nodded in agreement. “That man yelled at my mommy,” she said, her tone matter-of-fact. She shook her head. “I don’t like him. He’s bad.”

“He won’t be hurting anybody again for a very long time,” Joe told her. “Maya? Is it okay if I talk to Letty in the kitchen? Are you okay to sit here by yourself for a few minutes while we talk?”

“I’m hungry,” Maya said, batting her eyelashes in a brazen attempt at extortion. “Can I have a chicken biscuit? With jelly? And French fries? And a milkshake?”

Letty rolled her eyes, but nodded. “In a little bit. Okay? Can you wait until after I’ve talked to Mr. Joe?”

“Okay. But hurry. I’m hungry.”

Joe folded Letty into his arms. “It’s over,” he said, stroking her hair. “Rooney’s on his way to the hospital, and then to jail. He’s got a broken jaw, for sure, and probably a shattered occipital. Trudi Maples cleaned his clock but good.”

He held her at arm’s length and gazed into her eyes. “Okay? I know you’re still shook. I am too. But listen. Vikki’s headed to the airport.”

“Already?” Letty was startled. “It’s not even eight o’clock.”

“She wanted to get there early, to make sure everything was in place. Just in case Wingfield tries to pull a fast one. There’s an FBI agent from the Tampa office who’ll be at the gate at every flight arriving from New York.”

“That’s good,” Letty said. “Right?”

“It’s called covering all the bases. But here’s the thing. We need to get a videotaped statement from Maya.”

“Now? Joe, I’ve just gotten her calmed down. She’s only four. I can’t put her through this trauma all over again, today of all days. You can’t ask me to do that to her.”

“It sucks,” he agreed. “But if we want to nail Rooney, we’ve got to do this right. Shauna says she’s willing to interview Maya, if you think she’d feel more comfortable talking to a woman, or we can get a social worker from the county’s department of juvenile services. But let’s get it done and over with, so we can nail this slime to the wall. While it’s still fresh in her mind? Please?”

“God,” Letty groaned. “What if she doesn’t want to talk? She does that sometimes, when she’s upset. Tanya told me that during the first few sessions she had with the therapist in New York, Maya would just shut down. She’d sit in the corner with her eyes closed and her hands over her ears.”

“If she doesn’t want to talk, we absolutely won’t make her. How about this? I’ll run down to McDonald’s, pick up her breakfast, and head back here. Then, Shauna and I can talk to her, and if she’s okay, we’ll videotape it. You’d be there too, of course. Nobody does anything without you saying it’s okay.”

50

VIKKI PARKED THE RENTAL AT the curb in front of the Tampa Airport’s departure door. She closed her eyes and was about to nod off when she heard a metallic tapping on the passenger-side window. She rolled it down and the cop leaned in. “Ma’am? This is a loading zone only. Need you to move along.”

She reached under the front seat and brought out the leather badge holder, flashing it at the cop. “I’m here on police business.”

The woman reached for the badge, examined it, then pursed her lips. “For real? FBI? We didn’t get word of any kind of an undercover operation here today.”

“I’m just picking up a suspect and taking him to St. Pete,” Vikki assured her. “But if you don’t mind, I need to stay here and wait for my passenger.”

The cop shook her head. “Would have been nice if somebody had bothered to give us a heads-up.” She muttered something else under her breath, then walked away.

Vikki yawned. Over the past forty-eight hours she’d gotten almost no sleep. She sat up and rubbed at her eyes, realizing too late that she’d smeared her mascara. She pulled down the visor and examined her face in the mirror. Puffy, red-rimmed eyes, blotchy skin, sunburned nose. She found a tissue in her purse and tried to repair the damage. She looked like shit. Maybe she’d put in for a couple of vacation days when this was all over. Just find a lounge chair by a pool somewhere, sip some umbrella drinks, and chill.

A black limo pulled up to the curb behind her rental. She twisted in her seat to get a better look and the leather holster clipped inside the waistline of her slacks chafed at the tender skin there.

Vikki had been forced to pull rank on DeCurtis, who hadn’t wanted to return the Glock that Declan Rooney had stolen from her room the night before. But she’d pointed out that the gun hadn’t been fired. He’d reluctantly returned her property.

She pulled out her phone and checked for email or messages. Nothing. She sipped at her second cup of convenience-store coffee. Bad plan to add more fire to the acid pit building up in her belly, but without the caffeine she’d be sleepwalking for sure.

“You there?” DeCurtis’s disembodied voice drifted from the smart watch on her wrist.

“Where else? How’s it going over there? How freaked out are Letty and Maya?”

“Maya’s pretty calm now that she’s got her Happy Meal,” Joe said. “Letty’s getting there. How’s it look where you are?”

“Surreal,” Vikki said. “This Tampa airport is like a Disney invention. So clean. No crowds, no Port Authority buses spewing fumes. I checked in with our field agent, Garcia. He’s inside, wandering back and forth between the gates. No sign of Wingfield. Good, right? I hate surprises.”

“Agreed. Check ya later.”

Shauna clipped the video camera to the tabletop tripod. “All set,” she said. “Maya? Are you ready?”

The little girl nodded shyly, tucking her chin into her chest. Letty touched her elbow. “Don’t be afraid, ladybug. Okay? I’m right here. Mr. Joe is going to ask you some questions. You’re not in trouble, right? You just look at him and tell him what happened. Can you do that?”

Maya picked up her milkshake and sucked at the straw. “Uh-huh.”

“Say yes or no, please,” Letty reminded her.

Joe scooted his chair next to Maya’s and nodded for Shauna to start recording.

“This is Detective Joe DeCurtis of the Treasure Island Police Department. The date is March 28, 2020. Time is nine twenty A.M. Place of interview is the Murmuring Surf Motel. Subject is a minor female, Maya Wingfield, age four. Subject’s guardian, Letty Carnahan, has given written permission for this interview and is present as a witness, as is Officer Shauna Arthur.”

He looked down at his notes, then back at Maya, giving her an encouraging smile.

“Maya, can you tell me what happened to you this morning? After you woke up?”

Maya nodded.

“Remember? Say yes or no when he asks you a question,” Letty prompted.

“Okay. Can you tell us what you saw when you went out on the patio this morning?”

“I saw Midnight! She was carrying one of her kittens in her mouth. She put the kitten under the tree. She was hiding them.”

“And what did you do then?” he asked.

“Midnight went away. I wanted to see the kitties. I heard them. They went meeewww meeeewwww.” Maya looked over at Letty. “They were missing their mommy. Like I miss my mommy sometimes.”

“What happened next?” Joe asked.

Maya glanced at Letty for reassurance. Letty nodded, and the child took a deep breath.

“I petted the kitty on the nose, and it kissed my finger. And then…”

Her face began to crumple. “And then … the bad man got me.”

“Did he say anything to you?”