Kayla played in the yard alone. She glanced up as I entered the gate. 

With bloodshot eyes scuttled in sleep-deprived eye sockets, I must have appeared demonic. Yesterday’s rumpled clothes surely didn’t improve my image. The previous night’s discovery kept me from sleeping most of it. Images of her father with a fork stuck in his chest combined with the implications that he was involved in the sale of this innocent child, had me tossing and turning, out of bed and pacing, to the point of exhaustion before I finally passed out.

Kayla seemed not to notice, in no way revealing a hint of fear or suspicion.

Inside at the window, Lorna stood, arms crossed, expression unreadable. Not the relieved stance of a mother reunited with child. More like a warden monitoring an inmate.

“Hi, Kayla.” I knelt beside her. “Remember me?”

Her face showed no recognition.

Dark, leaden clouds frothed above, hiding the sun in an ominous foreshadow. Wind picked up a notch, sending a shiver through the trees. The weathervane rattled over the carport as it spun to find direction. 

I squatted next to her, shielding her body from the gust.

She graded a tiny dirt road with a Caterpillar-yellow front loader. Several piles of Matchbox cars lined a slalom track on the newly formed trail.

“Looks like you Daddy’s yard.”

She stood suddenly and wrapped her arms around my neck. Quick, unexpected, causing bubbles of sunshine to burst inside my chest. A scent of daisies surrounded me. The chill of the gusty breeze swirled around us without effect. I hugged her with one arm.

Kayla released me and settled back into her imaginary world. Her expression remained flat.

Recollections of Penelope climbing over top of my supine form, hugging my neck, hopping on my stomach flooded in. Tears welled. I choked them back. Questions prepared for Kayla hid themselves behind a wall of compassion. Too harsh. Too cold. She may never reveal what she did or didn’t see when her father was killed.

“Let me check with your Momma, but it might be time to come inside.”

She took my hand as I stood. We walked to the house together.

Lorna emerged onto the porch, wiping her hands on a dish towel. “I hope she’s not bothering you, Mr. Pierce.”

Kayla gripped my hand tighter.

“A little blustery out there. Thought Kayla should come inside.”

“She can handle a little weather. Isn’t that right, Kayla?” Lorna’s voice held an unwarranted edge. Then again, her daughter had been missing for days. That would put any parent on permanent alert.

“A tough kid,” I said, gently pushing her toward her mother.

Kayla rushed in to hug Lorna’s legs.

“You may as well come in,” Lorna said with less enthusiasm than I’d hoped.

Vicky slumped at the kitchen table, but righted herself and said, “Oh sweetie,” with open arms. 

Kayla scooted behind me, one hand clutching my pant leg. 

Lorna sat at the table and Kayla jumped into her lap.

Vicky pursed her lips. The space between her eyebrows crowded together with displeasure. 

I said, “I believe there’s a connection between her disappearance and the incident.” 

“Doc Gibbons expects she’ll be talking soon enough,” Lorna said, brushing the girl’s hair from her eyes. “Shock wears off with kids.” Hard to tell if her tone expressed concern for the child. Or something else. 

“Still not talking, then?” I asked. “No mention of happenings?” I paused. “Or people?”

Lorna tucked Kayla’s head against her breast, covering the child’s ears. “Not a peep.” She answered quickly and with judgment. “Talked non-stop before you found her out there.” She scowled at me.

Besides glass castle dreaming, over and over after I discovered her hiding in the greenhouse. I chose not to mention that. 

My mind had turned the logic every imaginable way, with the same result. No good would come from taking the deed that implicated Aidan to Sheriff de Lude just yet. What could I say? I broke into Aidan’s house and found this evidence of his involvement with Hugh Jenkins in the human trafficking trade. He was clearly trying to trade his young daughter for a piece of land to build that magic castle on. Could you release my sister now, please? 

Ludicrous. The best I could hope is that the good sheriff might let me share a cell with my despairing sister. 

By all accounts de Lude should have already uncovered that evidence anyway, if he and Spiesz had been doing any kind of a half-assed job. Not having it now would only make the Sheriff look like an idiot. That would certainly piss him off. I didn’t want added wrath toward me mucking up his investigation. I needed more corroboration to get through the sheriff’s thick defenses.

Vicky said, “What are you talking about?”

“Jenkins and Aidan were working on a land deal together.” I observed their body language, looking for telltale reactions.

Lorna scowled. Vicky glared.

“Your child could be in danger,” I stated in a quiet but firm tone, my eyes boring into them. “Every evidence I’ve discovered makes me believe this is about human trafficking. Whoever is behind this had no qualms about taking a life. Your daughter may have observed their illegal activities.” I paused, taking the incriminating land deed from my pocket. “Take a look at this. Where would Aidan get the money for a deal that big? Kayla almost certainly knows something of this, even if she’s not aware she knows. She may have even been witness to the deal.”

“Really?” Lorna squeezed Kayla closer. “You think she knows?”

“It doesn’t matter if she knows. It matters if the people involved think she saw or heard something.” I let that soak in for a few seconds, before I said, “You don’t know anything about Aidan buying land.” It was a statement, meant to draw out the question. 

“You’re talking in riddles,” Vicky said, her face flushed red and twisted with confusion and anger. The woman needed to eat more carbohydrates.

“Aidan wanted to buy a bit of land. He had a contract drawn up.”

“How do you know this?” Vicky clearly did not like the idea that I held more knowledge about her family than she.

I shrugged. “It was a twenty-thousand dollar agreement. Aidan have that kind of money?”

“Not that I’m aware of,” Lorna said. “Where would he get it?”

“There’s one way,” I indicated the little girl she held with a lift of my chin. “Nefarious, but lucrative.”

Vicky flared. “We aren’t paying extra to find out who killed the guy who traumatized my sister!” She was making a strong argument for the mental and emotional distress caused by undernourishment. I catalogued a plan to force feed my sister once this situation was resolved.

“Lorna.” My focus went to the mother. “What if Hugh Jenkins held your daughter at his place for several days, waiting to close a deal with Aidan? Could that happen?” The theory relied on my uneasy feels about the man.

Lorna tucked her chin against Kayla’s head and stroked her hair. “That could never happen. Never. Aidan would not do that to his little girl. Why wouldn’t Faye tell me?” Her voice was soft, the question rhetorical.

“You don’t think he was selling her, Mom?” Vicky got stuck between bewildered and furious. “That is impossible.”

“Maybe,” I said. “I’m just relaying an idea. Toss ideas out and get a sense of whether they are valid. Or not. It’s the way I work.”

Lorna curled more deeply into Kayla’s mute form. “Vicky’s right, Mr. Pierce. We can’t pay you to find Aidan’s—”

“We’ve known the Jenkins forever,” Vicky cut in. “They’re not involved in this. Impossible.” She crossed her thin arms over her malnourished chest to put a point on it.

I remained there for a long thirty seconds, shifting my scrutiny from one to the other. Lorna perplexed and disoriented. Vicky enraged and directionless. People process grief on different timelines and in different ways. Whatever Aidan Peale had become, he was once a husband and a father.

I didn’t press them further. The two women wanted to put Aidan and his dream castle in the attic and forget. They certainly were not inclined to put little Kayla through any more trauma.