Girl, 11 by Amy Clarke (grave mercy TXT) 📗

gone to work, hoping to keep his mind occupied. All that awaited her inside was a studio full of notes and tasks she had no interest in sorting through.

If she was going to fulfill her promise and bring Natalie home, her best bet was to work with Ayaan. If she could convince the commander her suspicions about TCK were a momentary lapse in judgment, brought on by fatigue and heightened emotions, maybe Ayaan would let her keep helping with the investigation. There must be something she could do, even if Ayaan wouldn’t allow her in the field. She’d do paperwork, review security camera footage—anything so long as it wasn’t sitting here in this house.

Taking her key from the lock, she turned around and went to her car, grateful Ayaan had gotten one of the officers to drive it back from the station last night.

The station was as hectic as Elle had ever seen it. Several officers milled around the kitchen, pouring cups of coffee and trading stories over a box of muffins. Probably from Ronny, the receptionist. His husband owned a bakery down the road. A few of them offered her a polite nod, one extending a paper plate with a pastry on it, which she waved away. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten, but she wasn’t hungry. Sam Hyde stood by the sink, stirring milk into a cup of coffee, and his gaze was curious when he looked at her. She ducked her head, hating herself for looking like a dog with its tail between its legs.

Through the glass walls of Ayaan’s office, Elle could see the commander leaned over a stack of papers. Ayaan raised her head when Elle knocked. For a moment, she just stared at her; then she tipped her chin to the side, a faint gesture to come in. Elle opened the door and stepped inside.

“Elle, how can I help you?”

Ayaan didn’t invite her to sit, so Elle stood behind the chair and shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

“I wanted to talk to you about the cases. I know you have reservations about me right now, but I really think I can offer some insights as to who the kidnapper might be.”

“Kidnappers.”

Elle froze. “What?”

“As far as we know, these are two separate incidents.”

“Ayaan—”

“The victimology is completely different. Amanda is a child of a dual-parent household. She went missing in the early morning performing her normal routine—waiting at the bus stop. The event was orchestrated so that her mother would be distracted at the precise time Amanda was taken, which shows careful planning. A witness saw the abductor, but whoever kidnapped her was obviously brave enough to do so anyway.”

Elle clenched her fists.

Ayaan continued. “Conversely, Natalie is from a single-parent home. She went missing late in the afternoon when doing something out of character that made her vulnerable—walking home alone. Nobody apparently saw or heard anything, which suggests she didn’t scream or make any loud noise. It was likely a crime of opportunity. She was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and someone took advantage of her vulnerability.”

Elle shook her head, but Ayaan lifted her hand. “Elle, you’re blending your podcast investigation with these kidnappings, but there is just no evidence they’re connected. It’s understandable, though; I’ve gotten confused and seen connections between my own cases before. It happens. But Natalie is like your own child. There’s no way you could be involved in her case. I think it’s best if you take a step back for now. I spoke to the Jordans, and they have agreed. Sam’s caseload is light at the moment, so he is assisting me.”

Somehow, the idea of Sam taking her place was an extra twist of the knife. Elle bit back her arguments and tried to force down the panic rising inside her. “But, Ayaan, I . . . I have to do something.”

Ayaan’s eyes were wide, gleaming with pity as she said, “I know you want to help.”

“I do.”

“But you clearly have blinders on when it comes to TCK, and it stops you from thinking clearly. I can’t work with you anymore. I’m sorry; it’s too risky.”

With that, the last bit of hope flickering inside Elle vanished, a burning wick drowned in hot wax.

While she was waiting at the elevator doors, a man’s voice called Elle’s name. She turned to see Sam walking toward her from the other side of the security doors, one hand out.

“Hold up,” he said.

The bell dinged, and she was tempted to just get on and leave. The last thing she needed was another rant about how she was an armchair detective who got in the way of real police work. But she paused with her hand on the open door, knowing he would just follow her downstairs if she fled.

He came through the lobby and nodded at the elevator. “Can I ride with you?”

She looked between him and the open doors, confused. Then she shrugged. “Sure, why not.” They got on together, and she pressed the button for the first floor before turning to face him, arms crossed. “What do you want?”

He glanced away from her. It was the first time she’d ever seen him look anything but cocky and smug, and it was a disconcerting shift. “I know you’ve been working that kidnapping case with Ayaan, but I was just wondering if you had found anything further on Leo Toca. You know, about what he was going to give you on TCK.”

She studied him, waiting for the punch line, but his expression didn’t change. He was actually asking. He must be really stuck. “I don’t know, I’ve been pretty busy doing my fake master’s degree and talking to all my fake witnesses while doing my job as a fake detective.”

He crossed his arms. “Come on, give me a break.”

“Why should I?” They arrived at the first floor and the doors opened. She stepped out into the building lobby. “You can’t suddenly decide you want my help after telling