Free Don’t Talk to Strangers: A Novel by Amanda Kyle Williams Page B

walked out the
     back door with the sheriff.
    I pushed in the flash drive, began to skim back over the reports I’d studied last
     night from the state crime lab. I then went through the file for Melinda Cochran and
     studied the statements taken after her disappearance. The sheriff was right. The interviews
     with Melinda’s parents were bare bones. The cops knew them. They had excludedthem quickly. Some effort was made to reconstruct Melinda’s interaction with family
     in her final days. No big blowups or arguments. Melinda didn’t seem particularly upset
     about anything, according to her parents, beyond the “usual ups and downs with friends”
     and the normal concerns of a thirteen-year-old who wanted to “fit in.” There were
     no medical records either, nothing to explain the broken bones.
    I jotted down names and addresses of Melinda’s closest friends and read over their
     interviews carefully. None of them remembered seeing anyone unfamiliar in the area
     in the days and weeks prior to the abduction. They’d been talking, laughing, as they
     left school that day. There were people around—parents, kids, teachers, all familiar.
     Melinda and three of her friends walked home together every day. They lived a couple
     of blocks apart. Melinda walked the last two blocks alone. The police had scoured
     the area. They’d found her cell phone in the street, crushed by traffic. The pieces
     had been collected, checked for prints, and stored. No prints. Not even Melinda’s.
     Not even a partial—wiped clean.
    Eleven years ago, Tracy Davidson’s friends had made similar statements. They’d seen
     Tracy in school but not on the school bus that afternoon. The interview with Tracy’s
     parents and brother had been more extensive. Her father had served six years for armed
     robbery and assault with intent. Her brother, then eleven years old, had been home
     sick the day Tracy disappeared. I read over their statements carefully and the investigator’s
     notes. Tracy’s dad had been considered a prime suspect in the beginning. There were
     multiple domestic abuse calls from their home. Investigators had executed warrants
     and searched the premises thoroughly after Tracy had been missing for a week. Mr.
     Davidson had been hauled in twice more for follow-up statements. No evidence had been
     found to link the Davidsons to their daughter’s disappearance. The case went cold.
     Tracy was listed simply as missing, and the notations in the file made it clear the
     investigators suspected she was a runaway. I couldn’t fault them too much. They’d
     found absolutely no evidence of foul play. And it looked like Tracy Davidson had a
     lot to run away from.
    I stood up, felt Doris’s attention shift to me, walked to the back. Ifthey’d used the floor plan as it was intended, both the back rooms would have been
     bedrooms. But they were offices instead, one clearly belonging to the sheriff. An
     antique oak desk held a nameplate with raised gold letters. His windows looked out
     on the water. The second office had two desks, metal like the one I’d been using in
     front, both piled with files and papers, the occasional candy wrapper and coffee ring.
     A box of doughnuts was open on Raymond’s desk, half full. I wanted one, but no one
     was offering.
    I tapped on the door. “Sorry to bother you, Major, but I need to know if Tracy Davidson
     and Melinda Cochran had broken bones and fractures prior to their disappearance. There’s
     no medical records in the file, and it wasn’t covered in the interviews.” I was hoping
     she’d offer to help. She didn’t. Not even a courtesy glance in my direction. I sharpened
     my tone a little. “I need the statements from the parents regarding the physical condition
     of both girls as soon as possible. And I need the medical records.”
    “You hear that, Major?” Raymond asked. “As soon as possible. Guess we better snap
     to.”
    “We’re a little busy, as you can