Page 26 of The Fragile Ones
The drive to Rock Creek was slow, along country roads lined with trees, trunk to trunk. The speckled sunlight that managed to push through the branches danced across the windshield, reminding Katie that it was still morning even though she had been up for hours. Through the cracked open windows of the car, the deep smell of the forest infiltrated the vehicle’s interior. There was nothing like it—it brought back pleasant times for her.
The small town was located northeast of Pine Valley and was in one of the most rural parts of the county. Some of the turns in the road were only wide enough for one car making it, at times, hazardous. The population was barely five hundred people; mostly generation farmers who didn’t like outsiders or city people coming to their town asking questions and telling them what to do.
Katie tried to relax, keeping her shoulders down, neck eased, and eyes on the road. But the two young girls were always on her mind whether she was at work or at home. Their case had already gone unnoticed and unsolved for far too long; every hour that passed now was like a needle in her heart.
“…I can’t imagine how Mrs. Mayfield is handling her loss,” said McGaven.
Katie had been so involved in her own thoughts, she barely heard what her partner said. “It’s unimaginable,” she said. “But…”
“Here it comes.”
“Didn’t you find it strange that Dr. Dean said that Mrs. Mayfield had the two girls’ birth certificates with her when she identified the bodies? Doesn’t that seemodd? It’s not like anyone would have asked for them.”
“I don’t know. Maybe because it had all the information that the investigation needed with names, parents, and DOB? That kind of stuff. I wonder if Mr. Mayfield knew that Tessa wasn’t his biological daughter?”
“Good question. Still…And those numbers on Tessa’s scalp…372. What could that possibly mean?” Katie couldn’t get that image of those numbers underneath the blonde curls out of her head. “Why was she branded?” she said. “The only thing that comes to my mind is trafficking.”
McGaven was quiet for a moment as he gazed outside, watching the landscape change from forest to open farming land to the small town. “Mrs. Mayfield had to know about it. We’ll have to see what she has to say.”
“This interview is going to be difficult,” Katie said—more an observation than a prediction—as she made a sweeping three-hundred-degree turn to take the steep incline into the small town of Rock Creek.
Slowing her speed, Katie checked her cell phone for the address, 1402 Sandstone Way. It was located at the far end of town. She continued to drive down the main streets, passing a gas station with full service, small grocery store, auto shop, and a small building where you could pay your phone, Internet, utility, and gas bills.
“Wow, it’s pretty basic here,” said McGaven marveling at the simple signs. “I’ve been here a couple of times, but it seems different. So isolated.”
“There’s something to be said for simple.”
They drove past a weathered old man with a walking stick, out for his daily exercise, and a middle-aged woman sitting on a bench.
“I bet everyone knows everyone in this town,” McGaven said, studying the area. “It should be easy to notice someone that doesn’t belong—like whoever took the Mayfield girls. Or it was someone that everyone knows.”
Katie stopped at the only traffic light in town, waiting for the green light before continuing. They were the only car on the road. She drove down another block intersecting Sandstone Way and kept going to the end of the street, which faced a wooded area with what appeared to be a creek below.
She parked at the end of the street so they could get a better view of their surroundings. The small dark blue house with white trim was a one-story stucco residence with no garage, but a small storage building in the backyard. The front yard had a well-manicured lawn with a trampoline in the far corner and a low white fence. An older model white car was parked in front of the house.
Katie took everything in. The slight breeze rustled the leaves on the ground. The smell of damp earth and pine needles permeated her senses. The lack of traffic noise was noticeable—just the faint sound of running water from the creek across the street. She imagined the girls playing in the front yard and jumping on the trampoline, then pushed the image aside as she walked across the street.
It struck Katie that this would be an optimal place to grow up or to raise a family. Simple living. Quiet. Secluded. Everyone knowing one another. How would someone slip in and snatch not one, but two girls?
“You ready?” asked McGaven.
Turning back to look across the street, she said, “I want to check out the area the girls were supposed to visit—with the swing.”
McGaven hesitated. “Okay, let’s go.”
“It’s just a short walk.”
Katie looked at the dense trees and took in the overwhelming pine scent. It would be difficult to see anything, or anyone, if they were hiding and watching. And if the girls were excited as they raced to the trail and swing area they might not notice anyone following them.
They reached the top of a well-worn trail.
“Is this it?” asked McGaven.
“I think so from the description of the statements.” Katie stopped and looked around slowly. “No one has a direct view to the trail. There’s one house over there, but it’s blocked by trees and those tall shrubs.” She frowned and pondered before moving on.
“I bet the trees could act as a sound buffer too,” said McGaven, taking in the area. “Maybe that’s why no one heard a car or voices.”
Katie nodded.
