Shamed (Kate Burkholder #11) - Linda Castillo Page 0,24
been asked too many times and doesn’t want to face again. From the memory of her dead grandmother and the knowledge that her sister is gone.
“Was there someone else there?” Mackie asks gently.
The little girl puts her thumb in her mouth and begins to suck.
“I wonder if the stranger was picking up walnuts, too?” Mackie asks of no one in particular.
The thumb comes out. “He was in the house,” Annie tells us.
“A man?”
“Ja.”
“Hmmm. What happened next?”
“Grossmammi was in the house, too,” the girl says.
Mackie casts a look toward me. “‘Grossmammi’ is ‘Grandmother’?”
“Yes.” I wink at Annie and whisper, “She doesn’t know Deitsch.”
Mackie continues. “I wonder why your grossmammi went into the house.” A pause and then, “Did she hear something? See something?”
“She just likes it because she used to play there when she was little.”
“I see.” Mackie gives an exaggerated nod. “Did she go in through the front door or back?”
“Back.”
“What were you and Elsie doing?”
“Putting walnuts in our bags. We wanted to fill them up so we could play.”
“Did you see anyone else outside?” Mackie asks.
“No.”
“So you and Elsie were playing and picking up walnuts.” Mackie slants her a smile. “Having fun?”
“Ja.”
“And Grossmammi was in the house, looking around. What happened next?”
The girl snuggles against her mamm. “We heard Grossmammi yelling.”
“What did she say?”
“I don’t remember.”
The agent nods thoughtfully. “What did you do?”
Again, the girl brings her hand to her mouth and begins to suck her thumb. She pulls it out long enough to say, “We thought she fell down or saw a mouse, so we went in to find her.”
“What did you see when you went inside?”
A storm cloud of emotion darkens her face. Her breaths quicken. I see her mind dragging her back to what must have been a horrifying moment. “Grossmammi.” She buries her face against her mother.
“Where was she?” Mackie asks.
“On the floor. In the kitchen. She was bleeding and…” The girl stops speaking as if she doesn’t have enough breath to finish.
“Was there anyone else in the kitchen?”
“Not at first, but then the Plain man came out.”
“What did he look like?”
The girl takes us through much the same description as the one she gave me. White male. Old—at least in the eyes of a five-year-old child. Brown hair. When she’s finished, she turns away, presses her face against her mamm, and whispers, “Ich bin fashrokka.” I’m scared.
Miriam pats her daughter’s back. “God is with you. He will guide you.”
Mackie is soft and sympathetic, but maintains a gentle level of pressure. “Everything you tell me might help us find Elsie.”
The girl turns to look at her, wipes her face with her sleeve. “Elsie was scared,” she whispers.
“I know, sweetie. You’re doing a good job.” Mackie reaches out and squeezes the girl’s hand. “What happened after the man came into the kitchen?”
“We ran out the back door.”
“Did the man follow?”
“Ja.”
“What happened next?”
“I don’t know. I just ran.”
“Did he say anything?”
Her brows furrow and she takes a moment to think about it. “He said, ‘Sie is meiner.’”
It’s the first time I’ve heard the words. I stare at the girl, wondering if she got it right, but there was no hesitation in her voice.
Mackie looks at me for translation, raises her brows.
“It means ‘She’s mine,’” I tell her.
“You’re a very brave little girl.” Mackie reaches out and pats the girl’s hand. “Just a few more questions and we’re all done, okay?”
Over the next twenty minutes, Mackie covers every conceivable question with the child. Some the girl answers readily; others she veers away from or curls inward. But Mackie is a highly skilled juvenile interrogator. She has sharp instincts, knowing when to push, when to back off, and she has patience. There’s no doubt Mackenzie Upshaw is very good at what she does. Is it enough?
When we’re finished, I thank the parents and then Mackie and I walk to the Tahoe where Tomasetti is waiting.
“I feel confident that child told us everything she can recall at this time,” Mackie says with a sigh. “It’s possible she’ll remember new details over the next few days. But I think we got most of it.”
“Anything new?” Tomasetti asks.
I nod. “When Mackie asked Annie if the man said anything, she responded with, ‘Sie is meiner,’ which basically means ‘She’s mine.’ It’s an odd thing for an attacker to say.”
Tomasetti grimaces. “As if he feels somehow … entitled to her.”