Page 61 of Little Child Gone

“Thanks for coming into the sheriff’s station.” Nikki smiled at the man across from her. Brandon Kelly shifted nervously in his chair, still in his mechanic overalls. A few strands of gray stuck out amid his dark hair. He was younger than Stephanie, but his smile lines made him look older.

“Yeah, I don’t know what I can tell you,” Brandon said. “Like I said to Agent Wilson when he called, my relationship with Stephanie was just sex.”

“That’s fine.” Nikki turned to a fresh page in her notebook. “How did you get involved with her?”

Brandon sighed. “I had a DUI that year. She helped me out of it and said I didn’t have to pay her in cash.” His face reddened. “I’m not proud of it, but it was ten years ago. I was young and stupid.”

“No judgment,” Nikki said. “Did you two start dating that summer?”

“My DUI was in May, so that sounds right.”

“How long did you guys see each other?” Miller asked.

“A year, maybe.”

“This might be tough to remember, but did Stephanie ever confide anything to you that made you uncomfortable? Did she mention Ms. Smith or her children at all?”

“Yeah, she complained about her all the time. Called her racist names. I got sick of it and told her I didn’t want to hear about it.” He shifted in his chair. “I know that sounds mean, but talking is not what Stephanie and I got together for, you know?”

“Is there any one time that stands out?” Miller asked. “Was she different later in the fall? More relaxed?”

“God, I don’t know, probably not. I don’t think that woman knows how to relax. As for times that stood out, what do you mean?”

“Is there anything specific she said about Ms. Smith?” Miller clarified. “Did she make direct accusations about her?”

Brandon thought about it for a few moments. “Well, yeah, I guess there was one time that seemed especially off the wall, even for her.” He rubbed his scruffy chin. “She showed up at my apartment one night in July, out of her mind. She’d been drinking, so I didn’t pay a ton of attention to what she was saying. The gist of it was that her father had added Ms. Smith to the will without telling Stephanie.”

Nikki and Miller looked at each other, and she knew they were both thinking the same thing: when had Stephanie found out and how? “Hold on,” Nikki said. “You’re certain that she talked about her father adding Ms. Smith to the will?”

Brandon nodded. “That’s all she talked about. I’m sitting there playing video games in my apartment when she barges in smelling like gin and ranting about her father. I tried to tune her out at first, but when she’s angry, her voice has this piercing pitch that makes you want to crawl out of your skin.”

“Did she say anything about doing something to the Smiths?” Miller asked. “Even if you thought it sounded ridiculous at the time, we want to know.”

“Honestly, no,” Brandon admitted. “I asked her why she’d showed up so late just to complain about that, and she got really nasty. Took the PlayStation controller right out of my hand and threw it against the wall.” The muscle in his jaw worked. “I had to go into my bedroom and lock the door to keep my cool. She pounded on the door for a while and screamed, but she finally left. That’s actually the last time I spoke to her.”

“We have to ask this,” Miller said. “But where were you that weekend in August?”

Brandon looked between the two of them in confusion. “What?”

“We have to rule everyone out,” Nikki said. “I know it’s ten years ago?—”

“No, it’s fine,” Brandon said. “Just surprised me is all. I was on a family vacation on Lake Superior, up by Duluth. My grandparents had a cabin, and we all went every year.”

“That should be easy enough to confirm.” At least one thing in this case would be easy.

“Yeah, my aunt owns the cabin now. She’s the one who arranged all the reunions. I can give you her number if you want.”

TWENTY

UNKNOWN

The streets blurred past as the teenaged girl sprinted down her street, her heart pounding in her chest like a drum. Panic surged through her veins, propelling her forward with a speed that astonished her. She barely registered the curious glances of passersby, her mind singularly focused on one thing: getting home.

It had been a week since her missed period, and the dread that had nestled in her stomach had grown into a suffocating fear. The girl had tried to ignore it, hoping that it was just a fluke, but the gnawing anxiety refused to be silenced. Her friends had noticed her distraction, but she had brushed off their concerns with forced smiles and hollow reassurances. Her brother was too busy with basketball season and her mother didn’t seem to notice much of anything unless it was to freak out about how the canned vegetables weren’t perfectly organized or to scream at her kids if they tried to get into one of the locked cabinets because the small portions of food they were allotted a day just weren’t enough.

She’d told herself that her period would be starting any moment all week. Stress caused hormonal issues, especially in girls who didn’t have a regular period. It wouldn’t be the first time her period came at the wrong time, but by the seventh day, she couldn’t ignore the nagging fear in the back of her head any longer. The weight of uncertainty was unbearable.

During lunch break, she had slipped away to the nearest pharmacy, her fingers trembling as she handed over the money for the pregnancy test. The small rectangular box now felt like it weighed a ton in her backpack, each step making it seem heavier.

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