Page 183 of Secrets Hidden In The Glass

His heart kicked up to a wild beat. “Her boyfriend gave it to her?”

Danielle nodded. “Not long after they met. It was a birthday present. She wore it all the time—never took it off. Callie would play with it when Sam read her stories at night.” She handed back the picture. “Callie, I’m sorry I didn’t help you. I’m just so sorry about all of this.”

Callie looked at her, smiling sadly. “You gave me pieces of her today.”

Nate put the picture in his pocket. “I’ll probably have questions over the coming weeks. Can I call you if I do?”

“Yes. However I can help, I want to. I need to know what happened to my friend.”

“If for some reason Samantha did leave, can you think of anywhere she might have gone?”

“No. I’m telling you she wouldn’t have left Callie.”

He stood. “I appreciate you taking the day off—meeting with us like this.”

Danielle lifted the small box and handed it to him. “I hope something in here can help you.”

“Thanks.”

Callie gained her feet and put on her jacket. “Thank you again.”

Danielle handed her the canvases. “I hope you get your answers. You deserve them.”

“Thank you,” Callie said again as they headed for the door.

Nate walked out with Callie to the truck and looked at her as they sat down. “Wanna talk about it?”

She shook her head.

He nodded, relieved, because he wasn’t ready to talk about it either. The hour had been a lot. He wanted a chance to let their conversation with Danielle sink in. He’d gotten a better picture of who Samantha Fletcher had been, but after the interview, he was no closer to solving the thirteen-hour hole in their timeline. Samantha had been dating a nameless, faceless man who might or might not have planned to meet her on the island and who might or might not have harmed her. He and Sanchez needed more, but he had no idea how in the hell they were going to get it. “Let’s go home.”

“Okay.” She leaned her head back against the seat as he turned over the ignition and pulled a uey, heading for the hour and a half drive back to Hyannis Port.

~~~~

Callie ran her fingers through Lucky’s soft golden fur while she sat on a bench outside Captain Bob’s control room. She fiddled with the tags on his collar as her mind raced, replaying the long conversation they’d had with Danielle. The pictures and Danielle’s memories had done nothing to help Callie remember her life before Oregon, but she’d learned so many things in one short hour. Samantha Fletcher had been an incredible artist. She’d been quiet and strong and smart and talented. But most important, she’d been a good mother. Samantha Fletcher had been her mother. Then she’d been gone.

Her gaze wandered to the box and canvases protected in a shopping bag by Nate’s side while he stood, staring out at the endless ocean view beyond the huge windows. “Do you think we’ll ever find her? I mean, if she’s not alive?” she blurted out, breaking the tense silence that had been hovering in the air since the long ride back from Roxbury. Neither one of them had said more than a couple of words in the truck or since they boarded the ferry and Nate whisked her up to the captain’s quarters to avoid any run-ins with the public or press. “She’s still here,” Callie babbled on. “I know she’s out there somewhere, but if she’s not, do you think we’ll be able to find her body so I can say goodbye?”

Nate changed his stance as he white-knuckled the bold blue metal bar. “I don’t know.”

She wanted more than that—needed it. Now more than ever she yearned for her mother. “But you have an idea.”

He turned, facing her, leaning back and crossing his arms as he sighed, the regret in his eyes unmistakable. “Sanchez and I are going to put our heads together on this—run through the conversation we had with Danielle and see what we can do with it.”

She nodded, waiting for him to expand on his thoughts. “Do you think Danielle’s right—that she’s dead?”

“I think it’s safe to conclude that this isn’t the simple child abandonment case everyone believed it was back in 1995.”

Why couldn’t he simply deny Danielle’s theories and give her a little hope that there might be some other explanation? “So, it’s a murder investigation, then?”

He lifted his shoulders. “It’s really hard to say.”

She struggled to bury her annoyance with his non-answers, staring at the bag by his boots. “When can we see what’s inside the box?”

“I’ll take a look through it when we get back—establish a chain of custody and see what I can do about getting some fingerprints entered into IAFIS.”

Law enforcement lingo that didn’t quite make sense but kept her from exploring her mother’s things. She met his eyes across the small space, waiting for him to smile at her or do something warm and comforting and Nate-like. “Please say something. Tell me what you’re thinking.”