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“Yes, very close. Typical kind of big brother, little sister stuff. Sometimes they can be very overprotective, of Naomi too, but we get along well.” Clara paused when they heard footsteps on the stairs. “The doll they left; it was supposed to be the one they would leave with me.”
“I assume so.” He lifted a hand and began to stroke her hair; that had seemed to soothe her in the car the day they'd met, and he hoped it would help again now.
“That proves that it’s the same people as before. Not Tommy. He was depressed, but he stopped taking his medication, he must have been suicidal. And his mom, she said that he had feelings for me. That was probably why he carjacked me. Why he fired his gun.” She tilted her head to look up at him. “Did you know the officer who died?”
“No, I didn’t. Clara, your brother said you’ve been having nightmares. Have you remembered anything more about the time you were missing or how you escaped?”
She shook her head. “No, but it’s like my brain is trying. I want to remember something that will help you; I really do, but I'm scared. I'm scared to know the details of what happened.”
“You remember the abduction itself, though,” he prodded gently.
She froze, shifted away. “I don’t.”
“You do,” he said firmly. “I know you do. You reacted differently to that when Allina and I were questioning you the other day.”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” she said stiffly, scrunching down in the bed until she was lying flat on her back. “I think I'm going to try and get some sleep now.”
“Do you want me to go?”
She sighed deeply, “No, it would be nice if you stayed.”
Slipping off his shoes, he climbed under the covers. Clara immediately rolled onto her side and wiggled backward until she was spooned against him. Wrapping an arm loosely around her waist, he brought her closer.
“Can you stay all night?” she asked sleepily.
“I have a meeting at eight, but if you don’t mind me showering here in the morning, I can go straight there from here.”
“I don’t mind.” He thought she’d drifted off when she spoke again, her voice sounding half-asleep, “It was an old lady who took me.”
An old lady again, just like the one they thought had taken Jimmy Wallander. So, was it a disguise or a real old lady? Hopefully, Clara’s blocked memories held the answers they needed.
* * * * *
8:00 A.M.
Allina was the last person to arrive at the morning meeting.
She felt a little stab of jealousy when she spotted her partner looking so calm and relaxed. That didn’t seem fair since they'd both had rough nights.
Jonathon had called her when Clara’s sister had called him to explain about the doll that had been left on Clara’s bed. He’d gone over there and spent the night. Whether he and Clara had just slept or done more than that, she wasn't sure. Nor did she particularly care. Jonathon’s private life was his business, and Clara seemed okay. She was glad that she’d told him about Grace. Her sister-in-law could use all the help she could get.
She still remembered when Grace was born. She remembered when Grace said her first word. She remembered Grace’s first day of school. She remembered the time Grace fell out of a tree, knocked herself unconscious and spent almost two days in a coma. She remembered helping to teach Grace to drive. She remembered Grace’s high school graduation and her college graduation.
And she remembered the last time she had seen her.
It had been almost a month before Grace disappeared. They’d had lunch, done some shopping, and then Allina had dropped her off outside her house. She hadn’t even gone inside with her because she’d had to rush off someplace. That was it. Life had been busy for all of them and they hadn’t had another chance to catch up. And then Grace was gone.
She remembered that day, too.
With awful crystal-clear clarity.
A delivery man had noticed the broken glass in Grace’s front door and called the police. They’d come, and when they'd checked out the house, they’d found a puddle of blood in the kitchen. The blood was tested and turned out, as they'd all expected it would, to be Grace’s. There were no witnesses, no leads, and no body ever turned up.
She and her sister, and Grace’s brothers, still worked every single lead.
Last night, after Jonathon had picked up Grace’s case file, she and her husband had gone to speak with a man who’d witnessed the abduction of a woman who fit Grace’s description. They'd hoped it might lead them somewhere, but it hadn’t. It looked like the woman had been grabbed by a jealous ex-boyfriend. So, they'd gone home and fallen into bed around two; she’d managed maybe three hours sleep in total, and this morning she was feeling it.
“Ali?”
