Page 63 of The Fragile Ones
“Thank you, Detective, that means a lot to us,” he said, squeezing his wife’s hand.
Katie opened the manila envelope and slid out a photograph of Tessa and Megan. It was the last photograph taken of them. “I thought you’d like to see a recent photograph of Tessa—apologies, I mean Brianna.”
Mrs. Homestead stared at the photo, immediately sucking in a breath and putting her hand to her mouth. Tears welled in her eyes. “Oh, she was so beautiful.” It was obvious she knew which girl was her daughter. She turned the photo to her husband. He remained stoic, but it was clear the deep hurt would never heal.
Katie’s stomach tied in knots as she watched a mother begin to grieve over her abducted and murdered daughter. It was heart-wrenching—so Katie concentrated on anything she could glean from the Homesteads that might help the case. Glancing at McGaven she began.
“If you feel up to it, could you tell us what happened that day?”
The mechanical hum of the heating system above their heads turned on as if on cue.
“Yes,” said Mrs. Homestead, as she cleared her throat and pulled herself together. “It was almost ten years ago. But I can remember it like it was just this afternoon.” She paused. “Brianna was being fussy and taking a walk in the park would always settle her down. It was this time of year, in Austin, and that day was particularly chilly so I bundled her up and we went out.”
“Did you notice anything unusual? Like a car, or someone that you’d never seen before?” said Katie.
“Uh, no. It was like any other day. And that day there were even less people we passed or came across.” She began to get upset.
“Please, Mrs. Homestead, take your time. I know it was a long time ago, but we just want to try and fill in the pieces.”
“Of course. I’m fine.”
“Had anyone taken an unusual liking to Brianna?” said McGaven.
“Like?”
“Well, someone that seemed just too eager to talk to her? A bit clingy?”
“No, not that I could think of. And believe me, I’ve had plenty of time to think about this.”
Katie took a breath and gently prodded. “What happened next?”
“We arrived at the park. Like I said, there were less people than normal, but it was still nice to get out. I sat down on a bench with the jogging stroller next to me. Brianna kept fussing with her knitted cap and it fell to the ground a couple of times. And then, a wind picked up and blew the cap. So I got up, looked at Brianna and she was smiling…” She took a moment to compose herself; it was clear she was right back at the park that day. “I walked over to get the cap and rounded another bench with some bushes. When I turned back…she was gone. The stroller was empty. I looked in every direction, calling her name, but there was nothing. I ran one way and saw a young couple, but no Brianna. I ran another way that led out of the park and there was a mother of two little girls—I asked them if they had seen my daughter, or someone with a baby. And they said no…” She began to cry.
Mr. Homestead tried to console her as best he could.
Katie waited patiently and didn’t say anything as the distraught woman relived her worst nightmare.
McGaven cleared his throat as he too was moved by the woman’s story.
Katie pushed herself to remain impartial, but she watched the couple’s interaction with one another and studied Mrs. Homestead as she recounted her story. There was nothing that seemed rehearsed or disingenuous. They were parents and victims of a horrible abduction.
Finally Mr. Homestead spoke. “We spent the entire day and night searching for her with the police. We answered questions from who might have wanted to hurt us, to what types of projects I was working on.”
“Were there any leads?” asked Katie. She didn’t see anything mentioning it in the Austin PD report.
He shook his head. “There were a few, but they always fell through. You have to understand, this went on for days, then weeks, and then months. We’d get some information about a lead and then found out it was nothing. We went on every news show we could and loaded our information on every missing child website, but nothing.”
Katie made a few notes. “I’m sorry but I have to ask this…did Brianna have any birthmarks or scars?” She wanted to ease into the fact that she had been branded because they would see it firsthand soon enough.
“No, she didn’t. She was so perfect,” she said.
Perfect.
Katie didn’t say anything right away.
“What? I know there’s something you’re not telling us.”
“There’s no easy way to say this. We found numbers on Brianna’s scalp.”
