Amanda Stevens - The Innocent

Tonight, however, there was something different about her. She appeared more nervous than distraught, her hands flitting from her lap to her hair, then back again to her lap. She couldn’t seem to remain still, and her gaze kept darting about the room, as if she were worried she’d left a pair of underwear lying in the middle of the floor.

Or something far more incriminating, Abby thought.

As Sam began the interview, Abby tried to study the young teacher with a fresh perspective. Had she been wrong about Vickie? Had the affection for her students been nothing more than an act?

Abby didn’t think so. She was trained to spot inconsistencies, and unless Vickie was an exceptionally gifted actress, her distress following Emily’s abduction had been genuine.

But why was she so nervous now?

Abby watched her carefully during the interview, looking for other telltale signs of agitation. She was a small woman, no more than five-three or five-four, and slightly built. Her hair was cut in a short, boyish style that flattered her gamin features, and her green eyes, behind thick, black-rimmed glasses, looked soft and earnest.

Abby had learned from her interviews with the parents of some of Vickie’s students that she was a much-beloved teacher. Kind, sweet and very concerned with each child’s welfare. “Even a bit meddlesome at times,” one parent had confided. “But she means well. And the kids adore her.”

“Both Sara Beth Brodie and Emily Campbell are in your kindergarten class at Fairhaven, is that right?” Sam was asking.

Vickie nodded. “Yes, that’s right.”

“Are they friends?”

“It’s a small class. All the children are friends.”

“Let me clarify,” he said. “Did they play together at recess? Have sleepovers? Things like that?”

Vickie hesitated. “They weren’t best friends, if that’s what you mean. They didn’t play together exclusively.”

“Were they on a sports team together? Soccer, for instance?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Did you ever take the class on field trips or outings of any kind?”

“Not yet. The school year has barely gotten under way.” She frowned, glancing at Abby. “I don’t understand where all these questions are leading.”

“I’m trying to establish when and where Emily and Sara Beth may have come into contact with some of the same people, other than at school,” Sam explained.

Vickie made a helpless gesture with her hand. “They live in a small town. They come into contact with the same people all the time. Everyone does. Besides, shouldn’t you be asking their parents these questions?”

“Oh, I will,” Sam said. “You can count on that. But in the meantime, I’m sure you want to do everything you can to find both Emily and Sara Beth.”

The subtle inference that she might desire otherwise took both Abby and Vickie aback. But where Abby managed to keep her expression neutral, Vickie’s face turned quite pale. “I would do anything for those children,” she said passionately, almost angrily. “Anything.”

Sam nodded. “Good. Then just a few more questions…”

As he continued, Abby’s gaze traveled over the apartment. The living room was neat and compact, like Vickie herself, but the furnishings were eclectic—contemporary bookcases intermixed with antique tables and fringed lampshades—suggesting a more complex personality.

On the end table beside Abby were several framed photographs. One was of an older couple who, judging by the resemblance, were Vickie’s parents or grandparents, and another photo had captured a teenage Vickie in the arms of a handsome young man. She and the boy looked to be about sixteen or seventeen in the picture and very much in love. The backdrop was a wooden building with a crescent moon cut out near the roof.

Something about the picture touched a glimmer of recognition in Abby. A fleeting memory that was gone before it had ever clearly formed. She frowned at the photo—

“Sergeant Cross? Anything you want to add?”

She turned to find Sam’s curious gaze on her. “No, I think we’ve taken enough of Miss Wilder’s time this evening.” Abby stood. “Thank you for your cooperation.”

Vickie walked them to the door. “I meant what I said. I would do anything for those children. For any of my students. The thought of someone hurting them—” She broke off, her eyes filling with tears behind her glasses.

“I understand that you indicated after Emily’s abduction you would be willing to take a polygraph,” Sam said at the door. He turned back to face her. “Are you still willing?”

She had a tissue to her eyes, and she took a moment to dab away the tears before answering. When she glanced up at Sam, her gaze was still very bright. “Does this mean you consider me a suspect?”

“Everyone in this town is a suspect, Miss Wilder. Would you still be willing to take a polygraph?” he pressed.

“Yes,” she said quietly. “But I think it would be in my best interest to consult with an attorney first.”

“THIS IS THE FIRST TIME she mentioned anything about an attorney,” Abby said as they drove back to the sheriff’s station. The whole interview had left her oddly disturbed. After Emily’s disappearance, Abby had been so certain they could write off Vickie Wilder as a suspect. The woman had been shattered by the abduction.

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