college out of that or any of the accounts they own.”
“Did you confront her about it?” Josie asked.
“No. We would like you to talk to her. Like I said, she seems to have some kind of connection to you. We’d like you to be on hand at her home as much as possible, particularly if a call from the kidnapper comes in and she becomes hysterical. Maybe you can get her to open up. Nothing in our investigation so far has turned up anything suspicious, but the failed polygraph is a red flag we can’t entirely ignore. If you can get her to admit to you that she’s been lying to her husband about the college courses, then perhaps she’ll be willing to talk to you about any involvement she might have in Lucy’s disappearance.”
“You really think she did this?” Josie asked.
“I don’t know,” Oaks said honestly. “But I can’t ignore the possibility, no matter how remote.”
“Where’s the motivation?” Gretchen said. “She has the perfect life. Rich husband, gorgeous house, beautiful daughter. She even has a nanny to help her with childcare. She has no stress. She can fill her days with anything she wants. What does she get out of staging her own child’s kidnapping?”
No one answered for a long moment. Then Mettner said, “Maybe she’s sick in the head and just really good at hiding it.”
“I don’t think this was her,” Josie said. “But I agree we can’t ignore any avenue of investigation no matter how unlikely it seems. I’ll do what I can to draw her out.”
“Why not just bring her in and interrogate her?” Mettner asked.
“Because you only get one shot at that,” Gretchen explained. “As soon as we start treating her like a suspect, she’ll get an attorney. The parents will shut us out, and any information that Amy might have that would help us find Lucy alive will be out of reach.”
“There may come a time when we have to bring her in,” Josie said. “But right now, with Lucy at risk, I think the gentle approach works best.”
“I’m with Detective Quinn on that,” Oaks said. “We also need someone else at the house in case the kidnapper calls and we trace him locally. We need someone who could navigate this city in their sleep. Obviously Detective Quinn can do that, but I’d like to have some backup on that front.” He looked at Gretchen, but she pointed at Mettner.
“I’m a transplant,” she said. “Noah’s still not very quick with his broken leg, but Mett grew up here. He’s your best bet.”
Noah said, “I can’t get around well but anything you can give me to do, I’ll do it.”
Oaks smiled. “We’ve got plenty of work.”
Eighteen
The Ross home was swarmed with FBI vehicles and news vans. Inside, two agents were stationed at the dining room table, their laptops open, waiting for a call to come in. Colin sat at the table with them, attempting to make small talk. Amy paced in the kitchen, her arms wrapped around her middle. The kitchen was large with an old, rustic wooden table in the center of it. Various casseroles covered its surface. When Amy saw Josie, she motioned to them and said, “The neighbors brought them and some of the parents from Lucy’s school. Isn’t that nice?”
“Yes,” Josie said. “Very thoughtful.”
A tear rolled down Amy’s cheek and she swiped at it. “I can’t eat. Can you?”
Thoughts of her sensitive stomach and what the constant nausea might mean flooded Josie’s mind, but she pushed those aside and gave Amy a wan smile before inching further into the room. “I can never eat during big investigations.”
Amy stopped moving and looked at Josie’s face. Her mouth turned downward. “I did that to your face, didn’t I?”
Josie nodded. “This is nothing. I’ve been in worse situations. I know you didn’t mean it.”
“Sometimes I get… lost,” Amy said. “It’s like I get lost in my own mind, and I can’t get back. It hasn’t happened to me in years—decades, really. I just… I can’t handle this. Lucy. She’s my baby. I can’t.” Her shoulders shook with the effort of holding back her sobs. Josie circled the table and stood before her.
“Mrs. Ross,” she said.
Amy swallowed. “Amy, please. Call me Amy.”
“Amy.”
“Colin called my doctor. He prescribed me Xanax. Did you know that?”
“I didn’t. I suspected you might have taken something. I think that’s smart if it helps you keep your wits about you.”
“It dulls it,” Amy replied. “That’s all. Oh, my Lucy.” Her voice