Page 60 of The Boy Who Cried Bear
“Don’t move.”
The voice is a hoarse whisper, but I still recognize it.
“Dana?” I say.
“I should have guessed it was you,” she says. “I didn’t want to, even after yesterday, when I found you in my apartment.”
“I have no idea—”
“You were in my apartment, poking around. You even hinted that I knew more than I was saying.”
“I did not poke around. Ask Isabel.”
“Your friend Isabel? That’s your witness?”
I take a deep breath. “Dana. I do not know what you are talking about. You’re the one who came back to your apartment acting oddly. That’s why I pushed.”
“You dismissed my fears about Gunnar. You didn’t want me thinking that it was him because then I’d ignore the note.”
I go still and resist the urge to look back at her. The knife point still pokes into my neck, shaking slightly, and I’m not moving and giving her any excuse to react.
“You got a note,” I say.
“Stop,” she hisses. “You have my son, and if you doubt what I will do to get him back…”
She doesn’t finish the threat. I’m not sure she can. From the way that knife is shaking, I know my gravest danger here is making her react on impulse.
“I’ve been in the forest with Eric all morning,” I say. “I was coming back when someone said they saw you head this way. You were under observation because your behavior yesterday suggested something was wrong, and I was concerned that Max’s kidnapper had reached out and told you not to involve us. The person watching thought you went into the forest. I was heading there when I noticed the hatch undone. I opened it and spotted the note.”
She doesn’t answer. I’m making sense. Good.
I continue, “There was also a note shoved under the town hall door yesterday morning. That’s why I’d gone to talk to you. It said to ask you where your son is.”
“Me?” Her voice rises as that knife point digs in. I’ve lost points on credibility.
“I didn’t believe it,” I say. “But I had to take it seriously. Both the contents of the note and the possibility that whoever sent it knows where Max is. I have the note. Multiple people have seen it. I’m guessing you received one, too.”
She doesn’t answer.
I continue, “I’m also guessing that you received a message—now or then—telling you to leave something here. A reply maybe? Then you lay in wait to see who came to get it.”
“Which was you.”
I exhale. “Dana, if I were the kidnapper, would I really crawl in here without looking around first? Without making sure you were someplace else so it was safe to come? Would I do it in broad daylight? I’m a cop. I’d know better.”
Silence.
I continue, “I’ve been investigating the possibility that Max was kidnapped to get to you. I’m not sure how that would happen—whether we have a leak somewhere—but I’m definitely not saying it couldn’t happen and focusing all our efforts on a wild man in the forest. You have information that can help me, and I’m going to need it.”
“How do I know you didn’t take him?”
“You tell me. What proof do you need? I’m not even sure any I could give would be good enough. I was in the forest hunting for a bear when Max disappeared, but the only one who can prove that is my husband.”
“That doesn’t help.”
“I’m cutting through the crap, Dana. You can demand proof, and I can offer proof, but in the end, you’ll only see ways I could still have done it. The point is this: What would I do with Max? What would be my motivation? Unless we built an entire town to lure you in, I don’t see how I could be involved with the people who’re persecuting you.”
“We were supposed to be safe here.”
