Debra Webb - Missing

William shook his head. “That night it was cold for May. One of those dogwood winters the old timers talk about.”

“May I see her room?” Jonathan couldn’t name what he was looking for but he needed to get a feel for the family life. He’d formed a pretty strong opinion already and it wasn’t good. With William away serving his country most of the time, it didn’t appear that anyone was watching after the child in any significant and consistent manner. He felt confident that Melissa did all she could, but he doubted that Presley allowed her interference often.

With visible effort, William nodded and pushed to his feet. “It’s, uh, this way.”

Jonathan waited for Melissa to go ahead of him but she hesitated. “She knows something.” Melissa checked to ensure her brother was well out of hearing. “Something she’s afraid to tell.”

He didn’t have to ask whom she meant. Her sister-in-law. The pain on Melissa’s face even as she voiced what Jonathan himself sensed with little doubt made his gut clench. “I agree.”

Melissa turned to lead the way to the child’s bedroom without saying more, but the relief Jonathan had noted on her face at his agreement made him wonder just how bad a mother Presley had been. Maybe not that bad, he amended. Melissa would never overlook abuse or neglect.

The small house had two bedrooms separated by a bathroom down a short hall from the main living area. The child’s room was a little tidier than the rest of the house he’d seen so far. The bed was unmade, stuffed animals lined shelves and themed curtains dressed the windows. The signs of a forensic tech’s work remained visible. The room had been dusted for prints and the bed linens had been removed for collection of trace evidence. That last part surprised Jonathan. The official report had shown no indication that sexual abuse was suspected.

Jonathan checked the window. It was closed and locked, presumably the way it was the night the child went missing. The pink paint around the window looked clean and undamaged. The curtains showed no tears.

There was nothing about the room that appeared out of place to an outside observer. Jonathan turned to William. “Does Presley work outside the home?”

“Sometimes she helps out at the diner downtown.”

“Who takes care of Polly when her mother works?”

“She goes to the day care center at the First Baptist Church.” William’s gaze stayed on the child’s pillow as he spoke. “It’s kind of a mother’s day out program. Polly likes going there.”

Jonathan wanted to ask about the guy who had harassed Presley, but he would get that information from Melissa later. “Are there any other places Polly goes regularly? Any friends she plays with who live nearby? Any neighbors who were home the night she went missing?” The street was lined on both sides with small homes. Not more than a dozen feet separated them. The police had interviewed neighbors and those who had regular access to the child. He’d read those interviews, as well. Jonathan’s strategy would duplicate a lot of that ground. But sometimes the same question asked twice reaped different answers.

“She goes to church with me on Sundays,” Melissa said before William could. “The same church where she goes to mother’s day out.”

Melissa had gone to church when they were together, Jonathan recalled. He wasn’t surprised that she did still. “Any children she plays with regularly? Other parents who are friends of yours, or Presley’s?” he asked William.

“The kids next door once in a while,” William said, “but not really anyone else outside the kids in the church program.”

“Was anyone home that night at the neighbors on either side?” According to the police report the neighbors had been home, but no one heard or saw anything.

William nodded. “Most were already in bed. The police canvassed the entire street. No one remembered hearing anything that night.”

“Do you remember what time you left?” The time stated in the report was midnight, which provided a reasonable explanation for no one having been in a position to see or hear any comings and goings.

“A little after midnight.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “It was late. I tried to reason with her, but she insisted I leave.”

Not midnight. After midnight. “You’re sure about the time?”

“Maybe. I guess. I was too angry to really notice. But it was around twelve-thirty when I got home.”

“By home,” Jonathan clarified, “you mean the house where you and Melissa grew up?” Where Melissa lived now.

William nodded.

Melissa walked to the window and peered out. This was hard for her, too. She wanted to protect William and Presley, but who was going to protect her?

Who had protected her when he’d walked out on her?

Clearing the past from his head yet again, he asked, “Has Polly ever gotten out of the house or unlocked the door for anyone?” Jonathan couldn’t see that being the case at such a late hour, but it wasn’t impossible.

William shook his head. “Polly doesn’t take to strangers. She’d never leave the house alone or open the door for anyone.”

“Never,” Melissa confirmed, turning back to the conversation. “She’s a sweet child and plays well with the other kids, but she’s a little shy around adults that she doesn’t know.”

Under the circumstances, Jonathan felt there could be little doubt that the child’s disappearance was foul play. The only questions were how the person got in and why no one, the mother in particular, heard anything. At least one door had to have been left unlocked.

“Presley didn’t unlock the door for any reason after you left?” Jonathan pressed. “And no one was allowed in the house?”

William stared at the floor. “She says she went straight to bed and no one called or came over.”

That he didn’t meet Jonathan’s gaze as he spoke greatly discredited his words and concurrently alluded to what he wasn’t saying.

“Does Presley have a habit of hosting company at late hours or leaving the house while Polly is sleeping?”

William met his gaze then. “I can’t say for sure. She swears not, but,” he shook his head, “she’s lied to me before.”

“We think she may have left the house that night,” Melissa said, visibly struggling with the fact. “After William was already gone. But it couldn’t have been for long. She loves Polly too much to take chances like that.”

It was wrong and crazy as hell. But Jonathan knew it happened. “She won’t admit as much?” He knew the answer before he asked but he needed confirmation.

William shook his head again. “She’s sticking to her story that she went to bed and didn’t wake up until I came in the next morning.”

Pounding echoed through the house, waylaying Jonathan’s next question.

“I should get that…” William gestured toward the door. “I’m pretty sure Presley doesn’t want to talk to anyone else right now.”

“We have other aspects of the case to look into,” Jonathan offered. “We’ll get out of your way for now.”

William nodded and went to answer the door.

Jonathan hung back, letting the others go before him. He took one last lingering look at the child’s room. Afraid of strangers. Possibly left at home alone. No signs of forced entry or struggle.

Polly was taken by someone she knew. Or she remained asleep during the abduction.

Jonathan’s money was on the former.

By the time he reached the living room, William had opened the door to an older man.

“William, what’s going on here?” The man looked past William to Jonathan. “Who is this?”

Melissa stepped forward. “Chief, this is Jonathan Foley, a friend of mine.”