Chapter 11 - One Red Shoe
I told Ortiz what Ben had said without asking him another question. She arranged for a trained child interviewer to speak with him only if necessary. My job was to be his mother, not turn him into a witness for my side.
An officer searched the outdoor bins. Beneath wet cardboard in a locked utility shed was one red leather shoe, wrapped in a grocery bag. Denise identified the scuffed buckle from a family photograph.
"She wore those to my wedding," Denise said, pressing her fingers against the picture. "She said they made her feel brave."
Ortiz explained gently that a shoe wasn't proof of what had happened to Helen. It was proof someone had tried to hide something that mattered to her.
At four, I got an anonymous message from an unfamiliar number.
YOUR MOTHER DIDN'T MAKE THE MEDICATION CHARTS. I DID. THEY FORCED ME TO PUT HER NAME ON THEM.
A second message followed.
I'M TARA. I WORKED NIGHTS. DON'T TELL VIVIAN I FOUND YOU.
I forwarded both to Ortiz and Naomi. Then I called the number with Ortiz beside me.
A woman answered on the second ring, breathing fast.
"Tara? It's Claire Morgan."
"Did they arrest her?"
"Not yet."
"Then I can't meet you."
"You can talk to Detective Ortiz. She's here."
Silence stretched until I thought the call had dropped.
"I tried to call an ambulance for Helen," Tara whispered. "Vivian took my keys. She told me if I left, I'd lose my daughter."
"Is Helen dead?" I asked.
May you like
Tara began to cry.
"I don't know. But I saw who loaded her into the van. And that wasn't a hospital crew."
