Page 39 of An Evil Heart
“You… scared me. I… didn’t know who you were or what you wanted.”
“Do you have anything you shouldn’t have in your pockets?” I ask.
“No.”
I check herkappfor anything hidden, straighten it for her, and then, as quickly and impersonally as possible, I run my hands over her dress. I squeeze the pockets of her apron and my hand stops. I reach inside and pull out a red marker. The same kind of marker that was used to draw the crude arrow on the image of Aden Karn.
I hold up the marker. “What are you doing with this?”
The girl looks down at the ground, thinks better of it, and meets my gaze. “My little brother. He… he must have put it in my pocket.”
“You know you’re not a very good liar, right?”
She shakes her head as if I’ve annoyed her and drops her gaze to the ground.
“That’s a compliment,” I add.
She doesn’t respond.
I sigh. “Christina, if I take off those handcuffs, will you behave yourself?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Taking her arm, I turn her around, and then fish the key out of its compartment and unlock the cuffs. While she’s rubbing her wrists, I pull the photo from my pocket and show it to her. “Did you use that marker to draw on this photo?”
She looks at it and her expression crumples. Pressing her hands against her face, she begins to cry. “Please. Don’t tell.”
I wait for her to expound, but she continues to cry, her shouldersshaking. After a full minute, I motion toward the deer trail in the direction from which we came. “Let’s go back to my vehicle.”
Hands shaking, she wipes tears from her eyes. “Please don’t take me to jail.”
“No one’s going to jail.” I motion again. “Walk.”
Neither of us speaks as we retrace our steps back to Hansbarger Road. It’s nearly dark now, and as we get closer to the road, I speak into my radio. “Ten-twenty-two,” I say, canceling my earlier call for assistance.
“Copy that,” comes my dispatcher’s voice.
We reach the fence, and I wait while the girl climbs over. She stands patiently while I do the same. I spot her lost shoe just off the path, and point. I wait while she puts it on and laces up.
We reach my Explorer and I open the passenger-side door for her. “Get in.”
She obeys without speaking. I go around to the driver’s-side door and slide behind the wheel.
“Where are you taking me?” she asks.
“I’m taking you home,” I tell her.
“I’m sorry I ran away from you.” She reaches into her apron, pulls out a tissue, and hands it to me. “Your face… it’s bleeding.”
I take the tissue, then lean to look at the damage in the rearview mirror. Sure enough, a small line of blood trails down from an inch-long scratch.
Thinking of my upcoming wedding, I frown, blot it with the tissue. “I’m wondering why you marked up the photo like that.”
She looks down and smooths the front of her dress. “I don’t really want to talk about it.”
“Did you know Aden Karn?”
She looks out the window, doesn’t answer.
