have a watch?” I said.
She didn’t budge.
“Lily has one,” I said. “She was wearing it the last time I saw her. It’s pink and has a princess head on it. She pushes a button and it flips open. Mine’s not fun like Lily’s. But it’s special. My grandpa gave it to me.”
Sierra hopped off the sofa and dashed down the hall. I looked at her mother. “Is she okay? I hope I haven’t said anything to upset her.”
Ms. Johnson said, “I don’t know. Let me go see if I can—”
Before she could finish her sentence, Sierra returned, holding her balled hand out in front of me. She unrolled her fingers and revealed a red and pink watch. It had hearts all over it. In the center of the dial it said ‘Sierra.’
“My grandpa gave me one, too,” Sierra said. “He said it has lots of hearts ‘cuz that’s how much he loves me.”
“It’s beautiful,” I said. “Your grandpa must love you very much.”
She smiled. “He does. He tells me every day.” She looked at the watch I was wearing. “Why do you wear your watch right there?”
“I’m not sure what you mean. How should I wear it?”
Sierra put her hand on my upper arm. “Grownups are supposed to wear them ‘right here.’”
I wondered if she was tired of talking and was playing some kind of game with me. I played along to see. “Who would wear a watch way up there?”
“The bad man,” she said.
Ms. Johnson looked at me, confused. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what she’s talking about. I think she’s done for today.”
“Wait a minute,” I said. “I don’t think she’s joking. Sierra, what did it look like?”
She made a face like she was trying to remember. “He didn’t know what time it was.”
“Why?”
“It was broken, silly.”
It clicked, and I finally understood what she was trying to say. “Was it a tattoo?”
Sierra looked at her mother. “What’s a tact-too?”
“Did it look like my watch or did it look like a picture?” I said.
“He needed to color it.”
“Ms. Johnson, do you have a piece of paper and a pen?” I said.
Although startled, she got the items for me.
“I’m not very good at drawing,” I said, “but you tell me if this is what you saw?”
I drew a watch that had numbers but no hands pointing to the time. “Did it look like this?”
She nodded and jumped up and down. “Yay! Will you find Savannah now?”
I looked down at her hopeful face, trying to remember what it felt like to be an innocent child, free from the harsh realities of life.
I patted her on the shoulder. “I will do my best.”
Sierra looked at her mother. “Mommy, can I go play now?”
Ms. Johnson looked at me, hoping I was finished. I nodded.
Once Sierra was out of earshot, her mother said, “What Sierra told you, is it a big deal?”
“It could be. I’m not sure yet.”
We walked to the door and I thanked her again. I was just about to get in my car when Sierra came running up behind me yelling, “Wait, give her this!”
She thrust a stuffed teddy bear into my hands. “This is Mr. Fluffy. He’ll keep her safe.”
“You are a good friend, Sierra,” I said. “I’m sure Savannah misses you very much.”
I waved goodbye and drove away. Without even knowing it, a five-year-old girl had just changed everything.
CHAPTER 29
I tried Cade on his cell phone, but he didn’t answer. Since I knew he was staying with his father until he made other living arrangements, I tried Detective McCoy’s house first. A teenage girl answered the door with a greeting of, “Yeah?”
“Is Cade here?” I said.
“Who are you?”
“Someone he works with.”
“Name?”
“Sloane,” I said.
She clenched each side of the door jamb with her hands, blocking the entrance to the house. The oversized t-shirt she was wearing barely covered her bottom. She didn’t seem to care. And with a body like hers, I could see why.
“What do you want?” she snapped.
“I’m here to see Cade,” I said, again. “Is he here?”
She shrugged.
“Maybe.”
“Let’s try this another way,” I said. “Are you his daughter?”
She laughed.
“Let’s not try this at all. We’re not ‘friends,’” she said, doing air quotes with her fingers. “What do you want with my dad?”
“We’re working on a case together,” I said.
She rolled her eyes.
“I heard.”
In many ways, teenagers were scarier to me than the criminals I pursued for a living. I understood criminals, what made them tick, why they did the things they did. But hormone-driven, pimply-faced kids? I