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Murmurs of agreement rumbled through the room, then Derrick spoke again. “I also ran a list of the neighbors in that area. You’re not going to like it, Detective.”
Ellie’s nails dug into her skin as she curled her fingers into her palms.“Go on.”
A knock sounded at the door, cutting him off, and the station receptionist poked her head in. “Angelica Gomez is here, Detective Reeves. She says if you want to get an interview on the six o’clock news, you need to start now.”
Ellie raised a questioning brow at Derrick, and he shrugged, his mocha eyes filled with worry. “We’ll discuss this afterwards. It’s not something we’re ready to reveal to the press.”
Ellie trusted Derrick. Discretion was of utmost importance, and he was a pro.
“Everyone keep working, and let’s set up a tip line and alert hospitals and pharmacists about the immunosuppressive drugs Ava needs. We’ll run her face on the news 24/7.” She stood, her voice firm. “We have a little girl to find. And we want to bring her home before Christmas.”Alive, she added silently.
She and Derrick headed to the room they set up for press interviews, the tension between them palpable as they faced the camera. Angelica’s black hair was pulled into a fashionable chignon with a pearl clip, her coral suit accentuating her olive skin. She gave them a brief nod hello then got down to business.
“This is Angelica Gomez,” started the reporter, “live for Channel Five news in Crooked Creek, where every parents’ worst nightmare has happened. Six-year-old Ava Truman has gone missing.” Angelica paused for drama, but Ellie knew her well enough to read the emotions underscoring her tough veneer.
As Angelica finished her intro and held out the mic to Ellie, she forced a steady voice. “This morning, Ava rushed out of her house to catch the bus for school, but according to the bus driver, she was not at the stop. Her mother had lost sight of her as she rounded the curve but thought her daughter made it when she saw the bus go by. Four hours later, when Mrs.Truman arrived at Crooked Creek Elementary for Ava’s holiday party, she learned that her daughter never got on that bus.” Ellie paused, maintaining a calm exterior. “She immediately phoned the police. When we arrived on the scene, we spoke with the teacher, students, and principal––none of whom saw Ava today.” She paused again. “At this point, we are exploring all possibilities. As yet we have been unable to locate Ava’s father, Jasper Truman, and his girlfriend Autumn Juniper—we urge them to get in touch with us. If you have any information regarding Ava’s disappearance or these two individuals, please call the sheriff’s office or Crooked Creek Police Department.”
Angelica arched her brows. “Do you believe this is a parental kidnapping?”
“As I said,” Ellie said calmly, “we don’t know at this time. But we do need to speak to Mr.Truman ASAP.” She addressed him specifically. “Mr.Truman, if your daughter is with you, please phone your wife and let her know Ava is safe.”
Angelica turned to Derrick. “Special Agent Fox?”
He squared his shoulders. “We have issued an Amber Alert and notified all law enforcement across the country to be on the lookout for this child. Please help us find Ava and bring her home to her mother for the holidays.”
Ellie spoke again. “There’s one more thing, and this makes finding Ava even more urgent. Ava had a liver transplant and requires immunosuppressive medication daily. She cannot do without this treatment. I’m imploring whoever took her to return her home or to a medical facility immediately.”
Sympathy flickered in Angelica’s eyes. “We will keep you updated on this ongoing investigation as the story unfolds.” The screen flipped to display photographs of Ava, her father and Autumn, along with the number for the tip line.
Anxious to hear what Derrick had uncovered, Ellie motioned for him to go into her office. When they were alone, she shut the door and breathed out.
Twenty
Azalea Court
He stared at Ava’s precious face on the television. He’d been watching the sweet little girl with the brown curls for weeks now. She had been the prettiest angel on stage last night.
He closed his eyes and remembered her face as she danced. Her eyes sparkled as she sang her heart out. And she’d tapped her patent leather shoes on the stage as if she couldn’t be still when the music played.
“Once again, anyone with information regarding the disappearance of Ava Truman, please call the police ASAP,” the reporter said, jerking him from his imagination running wild.
Sweat beaded on his neck and forehead, and he paced back and forth, then began to pound his head with his fists. No, no, no…
The police were looking for Ava. Everyone was looking for her.
Panic built inside him. He shouldn’t have talked to her. Gone behind the stage.
Watched her this morning.
What if someone had seen him?
Footsteps shuffled outside his bedroom door, followed by a soft knock. His mama poked her head in. Her graying hair was piled on top of her head in a scraggly bun, her age lines prominent as she peered around the room.
When she saw the TV was on and that he’d paused it on the picture of Ava, she made a strangled sound. “Please tell me you didn’t…”
Twenty-One
Crooked Creek Police Station
