Her Silent Cry (Detective Josie Quinn #6)- Lisa Regan Page 0,50

not always. A lot of the time, Mrs. Ross seems very engaged, but you can tell by the way Lucy sighs and rolls her eyes when she isn’t paying attention that it’s not a one-time thing.”

Sadness tugged at Josie’s heartstrings. Lots of parents paid little attention to their children though. That didn’t mean that Amy was capable of staging her own daughter’s kidnapping. “I did speak with some of the other mothers who implied that Mrs. Ross is a bit… overprotective.”

Violet laughed. “Yes, that’s accurate. But there’s a difference between being physically present and mentally present. I would say that Mrs. Ross is more physically present than any parent I’ve ever met—almost to the detriment of Lucy’s friendships with other children—but like I said, you can tell that much of the time, her mind is elsewhere.”

Josie brought up one of the other points that Violet had made. “When you say Lucy is pleasing, can you give me any examples that you have observed here at school?”

Violet took a moment to think about it. “Well, there’s another little girl in class who will only give Lucy the time of day if Lucy gives her the cookies from her lunch every day. Lucy does it, even though sometimes you can tell that she really wants those cookies for herself. But then at recess the little girl will tease her or ignore her. I’ve talked to Lucy—and of course, to the other girl—several times about the dynamic and about how to be a good friend, but Lucy still gives in to her a lot.”

“Lucy sounds like she has a good heart though,” Josie said.

“Oh yes,” Violet said. “Without question.”

Josie motioned toward the drawings on the wall. “Which of these are hers?”

Violet walked with Josie along the wall, pointing out each series of drawings. “This assignment was to draw somewhere they had gone on vacation. Here’s Lucy’s—the beach. She loves the beach. These were from an assignment where they had to draw a self-portrait and then underneath their portraits, they had to draw three things that they enjoy or love.” Lucy’s three items, unsurprisingly, included a butterfly as well as a book and two stick figures holding hands—one with short hair and one with long hair. “Those are her parents,” Violet said.

Again, Josie felt a deep ache in her chest for Lucy. All the other children had drawn their favorite toys or an object from their favorite sport, a mythical animal or a cartoon character. Clearly, Lucy’s world was narrower than that of her classmates. There was something to the other mothers’ assertions that Lucy was isolated.

“Here,” Violet said. “These were from a class trip we took to a nearby orchard and pumpkin patch. The kids had to draw their favorite thing about it. As you can see, almost everyone chose the hayride or the small petting zoo. And this display was from a trip we took to the college campus. The drama department was putting on a production of Charlotte’s Web. The kids had to draw their favorite character.”

“What about these?” Josie asked as she came to a section filled with drawings of various bugs—what looked like beetles, ladybugs, bees, some bugs Josie couldn’t identify and butterflies. She immediately recognized Lucy’s picture because she had seen a version of it in Lucy’s room already. It was an adult stick figure in brown clothing with a net holding the hand of a small, blonde female stick figure. Butterflies flew overhead.

“We had a bug expert here a couple of months ago,” Violet said.

Josie raised a brow. “A bug expert?”

Violet smiled. “Oh, the kids loved him. He’s actually a beekeeper. Lives about an hour from here, halfway between here and Philadelphia. He brought beetles, tarantulas, a Madagascar hissing cockroach, some ladybugs, butterflies and a stick bug. He travels all over the state visiting schools.”

“How long was he here?” Josie asked.

“Oh, only a couple of hours. He’s got a pretty polished presentation.”

“Did he seem as though he took a special interest in Lucy?”

“No, not really.”

“Do you have his name and contact information?”

“I gave it to the FBI,” Violet said. “They wanted a list of all visitors to the school in the last six months.” She walked back over to her desk and shuffled through some papers until she found what she was looking for. She handed Josie a scrap of paper with a name and number written on it. The name was John Bausch. Josie took out her phone and snapped a photo of the details. “Did