by Beverly Long
Behind before they’d barely gotten started.
“Can you walk me through your day?” A.L. asked.
“It was just a day, an ordinary day,” Troy Whitman said.
“A few details would be helpful,” A.L. said, looking up. “Either one of you can start.”
“I left the house early,” Leah said.
“What do you do, Mrs. Whitman?” Rena asked.
“I’m a paralegal at Bailey Shepherd.”
The law firm of Bailey Shepherd was located just down the street from the police station. On the rare days that he took time for lunch, he passed it on his way to his favorite diner. “Why did you leave the house early?”
“I had...a meeting.”
“Where?”
“Madison.”
“And what time did it start?”
“Why does that matter?”
It wasn’t a hard or tricky question. A.L. kept his gaze steady.
“Eight o’clock,” Leah said.
“Thank you,” A.L. said. “What time did you leave your house?”
“Six thirty. Maybe even a few minutes earlier. Emma was still sleeping when I left. The last thing I did was look into her room.” She turned to her husband.
He took the ball. “I woke her up about 6:45. She got dressed and ate a bowl of cereal. She watched a little television while we were waiting for Leah’s mom to pick her up.”
“She was late?” Rena asked.
“No. We were early. I guess I was anxious to get going. Leah normally takes care of mornings. I do afternoons. Anyway, Leah’s mom got there and she brought Emma here.”
“Anything odd or off about the pickup?” A.L. asked.
“No. I mean, I saw her pull up and Emma and I met her at the car. She made a comment about it. That I hadn’t even given her a chance to come inside.” He looked at his wife.
“My mom...repeats herself,” Leah said, almost apologetic. “I guess I’m used to it, but it drives Troy crazy.”
“I needed to get to work,” Troy said, his tone testy. “I have to work. Especially...” His voice trailed off.
A.L. gave him a minute.
“Especially now. We’re busy,” he said.
Definitely some tension between Troy and Leah. A.L. had a feeling it wasn’t the first time they had argued about her mother. It was the kind of argument he was familiar with. His ex-wife had been a daddy’s girl and her dad had been a pompous ass that got in A.L.’s grille whenever possible. But A.L. had generally bit his tongue. Even now, on the rare occasions when the whole family gathered, he tried to remember that whatever immediate pleasure might be derived from going toe-to-toe with the man would quickly dissipate if Traci felt torn between her father and her grandfather.
His ex-wife had never been very good as peacemaker and he wasn’t quite sure yet if Leah Whitman was giving it a go. A.L. focused on Troy. “So she and Emma drive off. What do you do?”
“I went to work.”
“Where do you work, Mr. Whitman?” A.L. asked.
“Garage on Division. It’s my business.”
A.L. caught a shift in Rena’s eyes. Brief. Nobody else probably saw it. He made a mental note to ask her later. Garage on Division had been a Baywood landmark since the sixties. It had changed hands some years back. That must have been when Troy Whitman had purchased it. “You worked all day?” A.L. asked.
“Yeah. Until I knocked off and drove here. At first, I was just pissed that the door was locked. And then I was told that all the children had been picked up. I figured that Leah had gotten off work early and picked her up. So I called her. She was still at work. Then I called Elaine.”
Rena had already told him the next part but he wanted to hear it again. “Walk me through that conversation,” he said.
Troy threw a hand up in the air. “I don’t know. I think I said something like ‘I’m at the day care and Emma isn’t here. Do you have her?’”
“And what did Leah’s mom say?”
“She said no. That she hadn’t seen her since she’d dropped her off this morning at the day care. That she’d walked her inside and handed her off to her teacher by the front door.”
“Did she say ‘teacher’ or was she more specific? Did she say a name?”
Troy closed his eyes briefly. “She said Ms. Wiese. That’s what the kids call her. Ms. Wiese.”
“Does Emma know your phone numbers?” He remembered drilling that into Traci’s head when she’d been about four or five.
“Mine. Maybe,” Leah said. “We’ve been working on it.”
“How about your address?”
“I think she would recognize our street and maybe some landmarks along the way to either my mom’s house or to Lakeside Learning Center. Those are the two places that she goes to most of the time.” Leah paused, then looked straight into A.L.’s eyes. “Do you think she wandered off or was she...taken?”
He’d seen two child abductions in his career. Both had been many years ago, before he’d come to Baywood. One had been a noncustodial parent that had ended well after a tense fourteen hours. The other had been much worse. The eight-year-old boy had been killed by his abductor, who was ultimately shot and killed by the police.
“I don’t know,” he said.
“We don’t have any money to speak of,” Leah said. “For a ransom.”
Ransom payments were for the movies. The sick bastards who took kids often had other plans. Not that it was common for kids to be taken by strangers. Most missing children were taken by a noncustodial spouse or other family member. “Emma is your biological daughter?” he asked.
“Yes,” both answered.
“No previous marriages for either of you?”
“No,” Troy said. Leah shook her head.
“Troy, who were you speaking with when we entered the room?” A.L. asked.
“My brother. He lives in Milwaukee.”
“Any other siblings for either of you?” Rena asked.
They both shook their heads.
“This is a very difficult time, I know,” said A.L. “But unfortunately, when we have a missing child, we need to make sure that we’ve done everything we can to find her. And everything includes the police taking a look at your house and your vehicles. I’d like your permission to do both.”
Now the Whitmans looked at each other. Leah spoke first. “You don’t think we had anything to do with this.” Her tone was incredulous.
“Of course not,” Rena said.
It was the right response, regardless of whether they did or didn’t. And right now, A.L. had no opinion. He’d hold on to that as long as he could. A good cop had instincts and he followed them. A really good cop did the same but he didn’t let his mind settle on one path and discount other options that needed to be examined.
But there was no sense in alienating the parents or adding unnecessary angst to their lives by making them feel as if they were already on trial. Always better if everyone was cooperating.
“I think the time would be better spent looking for my daughter,” Troy said.
“We’re going to do that, too,” A.L. assured him. He looked at his watch. “Right about now, an Amber Alert and some other social media are going to hit. Is there anybody that you need to contact first before they hear the news?” He looked at Troy. He’d already talked to his brother.
“I’d better call my parents,” Troy said.
“Where do they live?” Rena asked.
“Milwaukee,” he said.
That’s where his brother lived. Maybe not in the same place, thought A.L. It still seemed odd that the brother hadn’t taken care of letting the grandparents know. But family dynamics were always weird. He watched Troy again step away to the corner of the room.
“Anybody else?” Rena asked gently, looking at Leah.
> She shook her head. “I don’t want to talk to anybody right now.”
That was understandable. But once word got out, people were going to want to reach out to her. Many in comfort. Some in curiosity. Maybe even a couple assholes who were salivating to get a first-person account of someone else’s tragedy.
Anything to make their own day better.
“Do you have a home phone or just your mobile phones?” A.L. asked.
“We both just have cell phones,” Leah said. “But maybe I’ll just turn mine off.”
“No. We don’t want you to do that. We need to be able to reach you. Can I see your phone?”
She handed it to him. He entered both his and Rena’s numbers. “Now you’ll know that it’s one of us calling.” He paused. “If Emma has been taken, and we don’t know that, but if, we’re going to want to monitor both your and Troy’s phones. Is that okay?” He could make it happen one way or another but again, always easier when a person simply agreed. “That way, if a call comes in that is in any way related to Emma’s disappearance, we’ll have another set of ears and the technology to hone onto anything that might be helpful to us.”
“Like?” Leah asked.
“Speech. Regional dialect. Background noises that might give us a clue to where Emma is. And we’d be able to immediately start to identify the location where the call originated.”
“Can you let Troy know?” Leah said dully.
“Of course,” Rena said. “We know this is tough. But we’re going to do everything we possibly can to find her. I promise.”
Troy walked back. “Well, they know,” he said. “They were going to jump in the car but I told them to wait...until we knew more.”
“What are your parents’ names?” A.L. asked.
“Perry and LuAnn Whitman.”
“Address and telephone number?”
Troy hesitated but then rattled off an address as well as a cell number for his dad, then his mom. “Are you going to call them?” he asked.
A.L. shrugged. “I’m not sure at this point. You have a good relationship with your parents?”
“Yeah. Of course.”
“Both of you?” he asked, looking at Leah.
“Perry and LuAnn are lovely people,” she said.
“They’d say the same about you?” A.L. asked.
“I think they would,” Leah said.
“Brother’s name and number?” A.L. asked.
“This seems like a waste of time,” Troy said. But, nevertheless, he pulled up the contact information for a Travis Whitman. It was a different address than the parents. A.L. copied everything down.
“Married? Children?” A.L. asked.
“Divorced. More than ten years now. No children. His ex is remarried with two kids and lives in Montana. And before you ask, there are no issues between us and Travis.”
“Great, thanks,” A.L. said. “Now let’s talk about your cell phone.”
When A.L. filled him in on the details, Troy raised an eyebrow. Not unexpected. Who would like the idea of somebody listening to all his or her private cell phone calls? He said nothing, however, until A.L. was finished. Then he asked, “When will that start?”
“As soon as we can make a few phone calls,” A.L. said.
“Fine. Do whatever you need to do.”
A.L. entered his number and Rena’s into Troy’s cell. Just as he finished, Rena’s cell phone buzzed.
She looked at it quickly. Then at the Whitmans. “Amber Alert is out. Social media requests for volunteers to search are circulating. We’ve got resources outside that will organize the people who show up.”
“I want to search,” Troy said.
“That’s fine,” A.L. said. “But I think one of you needs to be home. In the event that Emma somehow winds up there. Can you do that?” he asked, looking at Leah.
“Of course,” she said.
“We’ll send an officer with you. You won’t be left alone.”
Leah simply shrugged. A silent whatever.
A.L. understood. She wanted her kid found. Nothing else was really important.
There was a knock on the classroom door. Alice Quest stuck her head inside. “Kara Wiese is here. And I just saw Elaine Broadstreet pull into the parking lot.”
Probably better to keep those two apart for now. Their recollection of the morning events appeared to be very different. “Thank you,” A.L. said. Alice nodded and shut the door.
He motioned Rena to go outside before turning to the Whitmans. “Excuse us, please.”
“I want to talk to my mother,” Leah said.
“That’s fine,” he said. “Just give us a minute.”
Once he and Rena were in the hallway, he said, “I’ll take Kara Wiese. You’ve got the grandma. Let’s try to figure out what really happened.”
Two
Kara Wiese was early thirties, dressed in workout clothes, with her dark shoulder-length hair pulled back into a ponytail.
A.L. stuck out his hand. “I’m Detective McKittridge. Thank you for coming back to the day care so quickly.”
“Of course. I just can’t believe this,” she said. “Emma is so sweet.” She paused. “Not that all the kids aren’t great. But, you know, some are just really special. Emma is one of those. You know what I mean?”
He did. Traci had been that kind of little kid. She’d sparkled. “Smart?” A.L. asked, motioning for Kara to enter an empty classroom.
“Very. She’s already reading.”
Maybe she could read street signs. Or signs on buildings. That could be helpful.
“What time did you arrive this morning, Kara?” A.L. asked. He took a seat on one of the small chairs. He knew he probably looked ridiculous but he didn’t want to tower over Kara, who was barely five feet. She also sat.
“About 6:15. We open at 6:30 and I always want time to start a pot of coffee.”
“Was anybody else here when you arrived?”
Kara nodded. “Alice was in the office. She’s usually here when I arrive.”
“But she doesn’t start the coffee?” A.L. asked.
Kara smiled. “She doesn’t drink coffee. I don’t get that,” she added, laughing nervously but stopping suddenly, as if she was embarrassed that the sound had come from her at a time like this. Her hands were clasped together, so tightly that her fingers were white.
“After you started the coffee, then what?” A.L. prompted.
“I waited until there was enough in the pot to pour a cup and I carried that back to my room. Turned on the lights and started the music.”
“Music?”
“I play all kinds of music all day. The kids seem to like it.”
When Traci was four, she’d known all the words to Alan Jackson and Jimmy Buffet’s “It’s Five O’Clock Somewhere.” His mother-in-law hadn’t thought it was that cute. “Was your music loud this morning?” he asked. “Would you be able to hear it outside the classroom?”
“Maybe if you were standing right outside the door but no farther than that with the door closed.”
“Do you keep the door closed all the time, even when there are no kids?”
Kara seemed to consider the question. “I guess I do. Habit, you know.”
“What time did children start arriving?” A.L. asked.
“Shortly after 6:30.”
A.L. pulled the sign-in sheet from Kara’s room. “Can you verify that this is the sign-in sheet from your room today?”
“Why is it...in plastic?” Kara asked, sounding concerned.
“We’ve started the process of gathering anything that might be evidence,” A.L. said.
“Of course,” Kara said. She glanced at the sheet. “Yes, that’s our sheet.”
“Our?” A.L. repeated.
“Claire’s and mine. Claire Potter is m
y co-teacher. She starts an hour after me and stays an hour later. I leave at 4:30 and she stays until 5:30. We need a second staff member once we have more than thirteen kids. Early in the morning and late in the afternoon, the number of kids makes it so that one of us can handle it.”
It had worked that way at Traci’s day care. “I suppose the math doesn’t always work out perfectly. I mean,” A.L. clarified, “you might have too many kids arrive before 7:30 or too many stay later than 4:30.”
“On rare occasions, but parents are pretty predictable with their drop-off and pickup schedules,” Kara said.
“Were Emma Whitman’s parents predictable?”
“Usually. Her grandma dropped her off a couple days a week and then her mom the other days. I’m not usually here when she gets picked up.”
“What time would you expect Emma in the mornings?”
“By 7:30. She’s almost always in the room before Claire is.”
“Did you see Emma today?”
“No. I guess I didn’t think too much about it. She has allergies in the fall and had missed a day the prior week because she was sick.”
“Did Claire arrive at her usual time?”
“I think so. I mean, I’m pretty busy with the kids. I don’t really watch the clock.”
“Do you ever leave your room prior to Claire’s arrival?”
“Not once kids arrive. I could never leave them alone.” She said it fast, decisively. Almost too much so, thought A.L. “Let’s take another look at the sign-in sheet. Now, you said that you would not have been able to leave the room after children started to arrive. The sign-in sheet in your room indicates that the first child arrived at 6:42 a.m.” He pointed to the first line.
“Yes. Landon is always my first kid.”
