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

small and looked like a stuffed butterfly, but it was a backpack.”

Gretchen said, “You saw her get on the carousel. Did you see her get off?”

He shook his head. “Nah, I was taking the tickets from the people in line waiting to get on. I didn’t know anything was wrong until her mom started yelling her name.”

“At that point, you turned back toward the carousel,” Josie said. “Did you see her at all?”

“No. I’m really sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Gretchen said. She nodded toward the carousel. “Do you mind?”

“Oh, yeah, sure.”

He led them through the small fenced area where prospective riders waited. He reached over the gate and unlocked it, holding it open to let them pass through. He stood just inside the gate while Josie and Gretchen stepped onto the carousel platform.

“Are there any cameras at all?” Josie asked.

“No. We don’t have any cameras.”

With a sigh, Gretchen added, “And there aren’t any in the city park.”

“Right,” Josie said. “Not enough crime to warrant cameras.”

Shifting Harris again, Josie weaved through the colorful horses. “I talked with them before they got on,” she told Gretchen. “Here, this is the one she was on. It’s the same as the one in the photo.”

“And Amy was on one of the horses as well?” Gretchen said.

“Right. This one, I think.”

The horse Josie had seen Amy lingering near when she was confronting the crowd of onlookers was next to Lucy’s horse but slightly in front of it. “The ride was full,” Josie added.

Gretchen turned in a complete circle. “Okay, so let’s say she’s slightly behind her mom. The ride starts to slow down to a stop. She hops down from the horse and takes off.” She pointed to the exit gate. “She could easily have made it out.”

“No one saw her,” Josie said. “No one saw her exit, and no one saw her in the playground after.”

“No one was looking,” Gretchen pointed out. She gestured toward Harris. “You were here with him. How many boys with dark hair did you see in the playground today?”

“I have no idea.”

“Any of them wearing… let’s say… a blue shirt?”

“I don’t know,” Josie said. “I see your point.”

“Everyone on this ride and everyone in the playground was focused on their own kids. Even if she had run out, it’s quite possible no one noticed.”

“Which is why the other parents’ photos will be helpful.”

They both looked over to the cluster of parents and their restive children. All of them had their phones out, as did the two officers assigned to the group. Josie knew they would ask the parents to text them any photos or videos they had, and they’d give all of it a cursory review.

“We should talk to the kids, too,” Josie said. “They might have been more likely to notice Lucy.”

“Yes,” Gretchen agreed. “We should.”

As they angled around the horses to the outer edge of the carousel, something on the column in the center caught Josie’s eye. “Wait,” she said.

She went back toward the center of the ride. The column was wide, made of thick wood panels adorned with ornate molding and covered in oil paintings of landscapes; fields with farmhouses in the distance, old mills next to waterfalls, and gardens rife with colorful flowers. Josie ran her fingers alongside the edge of one of the panels. “Gretchen,” she said. “This is a door.”

Gretchen came closer, beckoning Logan to follow. Toward the lower end of the panel was a latch and a small knob painted the same bright red as the wood around it. Josie wouldn’t have noticed it had she not been so close to it. She tugged on the knob and the panel opened like a door.

Logan said, “Uh, you can’t go in there.”

Josie and Gretchen shot him stern looks. He smiled, his face flushed red. “Oh, right. You’re the police.”

Josie handed Harris over to Gretchen. He was awake now, but in that post-nap state where he was content not to do much but observe things quietly. She stepped into the column. Small wooden squares were spaced out along the floor—close enough together for her to walk on but far enough apart that she could see beneath them where metal poles ran from the center of the inner wheel out to the vertical poles that controlled the horses. Above her head were more poles reaching out toward the ride’s edges. Across from her was one small shelf built into the back of one of the panels with what looked like a small, black tool bag on top