Cassidy headed downstairs with a quick glance at her phone. They had an hour and a half until they were due to meet the social worker, who would then accompany them to meet Miley Ross. The morning had seemed to drag into existence. Cassidy, usually the kind to wake up and be awake immediately, had clawed herself uncomfortably from a strange dream she only remembered in fragments now. However, if the morning dragged for Cassidy, it all but screeched to a halt for Ethan. It was a little bit funny, though Cassidy would keep that thought to herself, that the bright and high-energy man she had gotten to know so far started the day with none of that energy whatsoever. The police station where they were meeting the social worker was about a twenty minute drive from where they were staying, so she could afford to give Ethan a little bit of time to bring himself to life.
“Interested in breakfast?” Stella invited as Cassidy reached the common areas downstairs.
“Thanks, that’s nice of you. My name’s Cassidy.”
“Stella,” Stella responded with a bright smile. “I run the inn with my wife, Robin. Her project, really, but I’m happy as long as she’s here. Glad to see you up and about! We were worried about you last night.”
“Oh, no need to worry about me,” Cassidy assured Stella, though Cassidy’s posture became a little rigid at the reminder. “Just a little headache.”
“Little sounds like an understatement, but no need to worry about that now.” Stella gestured at the spread already laid out on the table. “You’re welcome to anything you see here, but Robin is going to stay in the kitchen for the next half hour if anything specific takes your fancy, like an omelette. Robin makes the best omelettes.”
Cassidy moved to check out the assortment. “I don’t think we’ve got enough time for an omelette this morning, but thank you. I’ll keep that in mind for another day.” This morning, Cassidy settled on a pre-made cinnamon roll and some fruit.
“Of course! Just make sure you leave time at least one morning,” Stella advised. “Robin’s cooking is worth not missing. Now, where are you and that dashing partner of yours off to today?”
“Oh, just a meeting for work,” Cassidy answered, friendly but vague.
“And what kind of work was it you did again?” Stella wheedled.
“We’re federal investigators,” Cassidy answered easily. She felt transparency in their profession was important, and she had no real reason not to disclose the information in the context of the current investigation.
Stella’s eyes lit with an intense interest that made Cassidy almost regret the honest answer. “And what are you investigating?”
“I’m afraid that’s private information, for the benefit of those involved in the case. We’re not permitted to speak openly about an ongoing investigation.”
“You must be here about the little Ross girl.” The brightness in Stella’s eyes faded as she thought about the massacre. “That was such a tragedy.”
Cassidy stayed silent, taking a few bites of her breakfast, hoping that if Stella had more information she would feel compelled to fill the stale air with it.
Stella never needed to be compelled to fill a silence. “Of course, I can’t claim to know the family personally. It’s a small community, but they’re a couple towns over and it’s not quite that small. Watched a news vid about it though. Nice girl as far as anyone can tell, and then boom, just lost it. Suppose there must be something behind it, but then that’s what you’re here for, isn’t it? Gosh, there’s no happy ending here, though. The family’s dead, and either that girl will never care, or she’ll have to live with what she did when she comes to her senses. I’m not quite sure which is worse…”
Cassidy watched as Stella wilted like a sunflower pulled from all light with the retelling of a story that was not her own, as though she felt it to the core of herself. Cassidy reached out and put one hand on Stella’s. Stella rose from the darkness she had talked herself into and smiled at Cassidy. “We can’t bring her family back, and that tragedy will always carry a weight. But there are people here to help her, whatever the reasons for this may be.”
“Right.” Stella stood and brushed her hands down the front of her overalls, pink with a yellow shirt underneath today, as though she could brush the negativity of the conversation away like a bit of dust. “Anything else I can help you with this morning, dear?”
“Do you have tea? Cinnamon apple, maybe?”
The smile Stella gave then was bright and unencumbered. “I’ll see what I can scare up.”
Not long after Cassidy received her tea, Ethan emerged from their room upstairs. Cassidy glanced at her watch as he walked down. She was just finishing her breakfast, and he had about ten minutes to fit whatever he could in.
“Good morning, Stella,” Ethan greeted happily, matching the woman for sunshine. It was miraculous to Cassidy that he had been a practical zombie less than half an hour ago. If they hadn’t shared a room, she would mistake her partner for a morning person.
“Good morning, Ethan,” Stella greeted back. “Can I suggest one of Robin’s omelettes? They’re to die for…”
The conversation carried on until the time Ethan had for breakfast was all but up. Based on the fumbling, blushing, and hair fluffing she observed, Cassidy deduced that Ethan was having much the same problem he described having with his neighbor; he couldn’t come up with a polite way to interrupt Stella’s gushing about her wife, and couldn’t bring himself to risk being impolite. With about five minutes left before they had to leave, Cassidy decided to come to his rescue.
She pulled the attention of their host with a barely-there brush of fingers on Stella’s arm. “Excuse me? I’m so sorry to interrupt, but Ethan and I have to get going. Ethan, do you want to grab some breakfast for the road?”
“Oh, yes, of course!” Ethan sent Cassidy a grateful smile and headed over to the spread. He grabbed a strawberry danish wrapped in a napkin and coffee in a too-small paper to-go cup before joining Cassidy. “Have a good day, Stella!”
As they got in the car, Cassidy glared at the can of yesterday’s apparently caffeinated beverage before throwing it in the back to make room for the morning’s drinks. Ethan frowned. “Are you feeling better today? You sure you’re alright to drive?”
“Oh, I’m fine!” Cassidy shot Ethan a crooked grin that was all teeth but failed to reach her eyes as she turned the key in the ignition. She really fucking wanted everyone to forget about the stupid headache. “Really, I slept it off. Nothing to worry about.”
“If you’re sure.”
The rest of the ride was silent. Ethan was focused on eating his breakfast and ingesting enough coffee to be more convincingly awake by the time they reached the police station. He was pulling at the last dregs of his coffee, as though tipping the cup back again would magically make more appear, as they pulled into the parking lot.
The building they found themselves in front of was small. Dirty grey bricks stood out against the vivid brown and green outlines of the pine trees that circled everything in this county. It was L-shaped, and sat awkwardly against the landscape. It was probably only roughly twice the size of the ranch house the murders they were there to investigate took place in. A sign above the blue door, set into the end of the inside of the right side of the L, declared the building to be the New Haven Investigative Department. If Cassidy or Ethan walked around the back of the building, nearer the shelter of the edge of the forest, they would have seen blood-red graffiti labeling the department “REBRANDED PIGS”. By the end of the day, the custodian would wash it off. The words, or some variation, would be back again by the end of the week.
Instead of walking around the building, Cassidy and Ethan walked to the door. They entered into a grudgingly welcoming lobby. There was a rectangle of glass to the left of the inner door, revealing a man in uniform who looked at least mildly disgruntled to be there. There were some not uncomfortable chairs arranged around the small square room. End tables scattered with magazines stood next to them. One table had a small vase with a single, slightly wilted flower in it. One poster was tacked on the inner wall, on the side of the door opposite the glass, with a kitten clinging to a tree. The poster read, “Hang in there! Help is on the way!” These efforts to brighten up the space were undermined by the musty yellow light of the flickering fluorescent overhead, but not completely. The overall effect was a space that was not quite as uncomfortable as it could have been.
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A woman was sitting in the corner chair underneath the poster reading a magazine, but she put it aside when Cassidy and Ethan walked in. She stood from the chair, revealing in the action that she was only a few inches shorter than Cassidy, though her form was more slender and petit, and her face more angular. She was dressed in a sky blue blazer and knee-length skirt, and her black heels clicked primly against the floor. She smiled as she turned saw them, and the warmth of that smile balanced out the sharp professionalism of her outfit. Her inky black, shoulder length coils bounced with her movement as she stepped forward to greet them.
She reached out to shake hands with first Cassidy, then Ethan, treating them both to a firm but gentle grip. “Good morning! My name is Simone Wheeler. I’m Miley’s social worker.”
“Good morning. I’m Special Investigator Cassidy Caraway, and this is my partner, Special Investigator Ethan Mercer,” Cassidy responded. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you too, though I wish it were under better circumstances.” Simone shook her head, and her expression turned both sad and bewildered. “I just don’t know what to do for that poor child.”
“Hopefully we can help with that,” Ethan told her, smiling sadly. “Investigator Caraway found Miley’s diary last night, so hopefully when we’ve gone through that it will give us some idea. And -“
The inner door opened, and Sheriff Stern leaned half way out into the reception area with them. “If the ladies are done chatting, we’ve got the girl waiting in the box.”
Simone’s eyes flashed with something dangerous as she wheeled around the face the sheriff. “Is she in there alone, or did her lawyer show up?”
“No difference between her waiting in the cell and her waiting-“
“There is a huge difference,” Simone pointed out, already marching past him and into the police station. Cassidy and Ethan followed quickly behind Sheriff Stern, barely catching the door before it swung shut on him. “That girl is an eight-year-old child with no legal guardian. Either myself or her lawyer must be present for her to be moved into an interview room. That she’s been in there alone for Lord knows how long is… unthinkable. You’d best believe I’ll be filing a complaint about this.”
“Feds are already here, complain away,” Sheriff Stern answered, gesturing at Cassidy and Ethan with a grand sweep of his arm. By then, however, Simone was ignoring him as she entered the interview room with Miley and shut the door behind herself with a soft click. Through the window, Ethan watched as the anger melted away from Simone the moment she entered Miley’s presence, replaced instead with false pep and very real sympathy.
Cassidy, however, turned her attention to Sheriff Stern. Sure, local complaints like this weren’t her specific department, but she was more than happy to back up any complaint Simone wanted to make about this man. She already hadn’t liked him yesterday, and he certainly hadn’t done himself any favors this morning as far as Cassidy was concerned. “Oh, don’t worry. I’ve taken note.”
Slowly, Sheriff Stern’s face went from light beige to pink to red. Ethan turned from the scene in the interrogation room to the scene between the sheriff and his partner. However, before things could escalate further, another person joined the group, and the distraction allowed Sheriff Stern to let out his held breath in a huff and turn away from the situation.
Standing with them now was the most tired looking man Cassidy had ever seen. The bags under his eyes were darker than a moonless night in winter. He held a briefcase in one hand, and a coffee that didn’t seem to be doing much for him in the other. His red tie wasn’t tightened to the collar of his white shirt, his salt-and-pepper hair was looking a bit lank and disheveled, and deep, bright blue eyes were glazed over with fatigue. “I apologize for my tardiness. The public defender’s office for the county is a bit understaffed at the moment, and some things ran over.”
“Don’t worry about it, Bob,” Sheriff Stern answered, looking away awkwardly. “Uh, these are the feds, Ethan Mercer and Cassidy Caraway. Simone’s in the box with the girl.”
Bob nodded to all the information he had been given and headed into the room himself. It only took a moment for Simone to pop her head out and smile at Cassidy and Ethan, pointedly ignoring the sheriff. “Investigator Caraway, Investigator Mercer, we’re ready for you now.”
Bob entered first, followed by Ethan. Cassidy took an extra half-second to glare at Sheriff Stern before she joined the others. Bob went to sit on the other side of the table opposite the door, taking the other seat next to Miley so that the girl was bracketed by both of the people assigned to be her defenders. Ethan sat in the chair on the opposite side of the table furthest from the door and hunched his shoulders in a little bit, sending a soft smile to the girl. Through all of this, Miley continued to stare at the table top and ignore everything going on around her. When Cassidy entered the room, however, her world seemed to shift. Miley’s head shot up in Cassidy’s direction.
Cassidy froze. For a moment, she didn’t think she saw a child in that seat. The general size and shape was right, and if asked Cassidy wouldn’t be able to say what was wrong, but without a doubt it was something. Her gut lurched, and the second Miley made eye contact with her, pain seared behind Cassidy’s eyes. The little girl smiled, and maybe her canines extended a little too far, but maybe it was a trick of the agony that ripped through Cassidy’s mind, more intense than any migraine she had experienced up to this point.
As soon as it started, it was gone. Miley was staring down at the table, and everyone else was acting like nothing happened. Maybe nothing did. Cassidy couldn’t even be sure if the girl had ever lifted her head from the table. The soft throbbing in the whites of her eyes was the only indication, and it seemed a lot more plausible to think that this was a holdover from the previous day’s migraine, brought on by the stress of their interaction with Sheriff Stern, than it was to think this girl had grinned her into a headache. Cassidy dismissed the strange experience and sat down next to Ethan.
“Thank you both for coming,” Bob greeted, looking a little more together now that he was sitting next to his client. His shoulders were back, and his back straighter. There was nothing he could do for the bags under his eyes, but they looked clearer, and the loose strands of his hair had been smoothed back into place. “Simone, Miley, and I have talked, and it seems to make sense to us for her to confess. There’s no available alternative to Miley’s guilt, and the forensic evidence supports what she told the police.”
“Why don’t you take us through it, Miley?” Cassidy asked.
Miley didn’t look up from the table, or give any indication that she’d heard the question.
Ethan leaned forward a little, hunching more, pretending to be small. “Miley? I know it might be hard to think about it. Don’t try to think about everything at once, alright? Can you tell us what happened first?”
A few long minutes passed in silence. Ethan and Cassidy looked at Miley. Simone and Bob looked at Ethan and Cassidy. Miley looked at the table. Finally, after the silence seemed to stretch long enough, Simone told them, “Miley hasn’t spoken since she made the 911 call.”
Cassidy’s attention turned to Simone, a combination of relief to have an excuse to stop focusing on the child and genuine intrigue. “Miley was the one who called 911?”
“Yes,” Simone confirmed. “The recording was… difficult to listen to.” Simone glanced down at Miley, who continued to have no reaction to the conversation the adults were holding around her. “Miley was sobbing. It took a bit for the dispatcher to calm her down enough to understand what she was saying. Of course, they sent a unit out before that. But when it came out… She told them what she’d done. And then the officers arrived, and they saw all the blood, and they saw this moment where this anguished little girl just had too much and went blank.”
“Did she say anything about why she did it?” Ethan asked.
Simone shook her head. “That’s anyone’s guess.”
“She was having nightmares,” Cassidy informed them. “I found her diary. She was seeing eyes in the dark and losing time.”
“I see.” Simone took a quick note on her phone. “When you’re done with that piece of evidence, I’d like to see it. It might be useful to figure out how to help her.”
“As soon as we’re done, I’ll pass it on,” Cassidy promised.
“It might change her legal options,” Bob mused.
“For now, we’d like permission to move her to a different facility,” Simone told them. “Regardless of the outcome of her sentencing, Miley is a ward of the state now. The town’s prison cell is not the best environment if we want her to get better, but the facility we’d be moving her to is further away, and we wanted to make sure she was available for questioning.”
“No.”
The single word brought the proceedings to a halt. Miley’s voice was low and raspy, probably from disuse. her eyes stayed focused on the table, strings of blonde hair overdue for a wash covering most of her face, but the no was clear.
“No what, sweetheart?” Simone asked.
“I need to stay here,” Miley told her. “I can’t go far.”
“Why can’t you go?” Ethan asked.
Miley didn’t answer. No matter what coaxing words any of the adults tried, Miley remained silent. Eventually, they had to give up. Simone determined, given that her location was the only thing Miley had shown any interest in, that they would keep her in town a little longer, even if the holding cell she’d been occupying wasn’t ideal. Sheriff Stern had a mixed reaction to the news. He didn’t personally think the mental facility they were talking about carting her off to nearer the state capitol was an appropriate punishment for murder, but he also didn’t want the girl taking up the cell she was required to have to herself any longer than he had to keep her. Simone succinctly and professionally let him know she didn’t give a damn what he thought about the matter, and asked Cassidy to get her the diary as soon as possible before heading somewhere more private with Miley. She invited Bob to stay as the girl’s legal council, but he was already running late for yet another meeting and had to hurry out the door. Ethan made a request for the transcript of the 911 call, somewhat baffled it hadn’t been included in the original filing, and then Ethan and Cassidy headed out themselves.
“I wonder why she felt so strongly about staying here,” Cassidy mused as she started the car.
“I mean, this is where she’s always lived. This is where her family was. Nothing we’ve learned about Miley has made this sound premeditated.” Ethan frowned. “She needs help. I just hope she gets it.”
Cassidy gripped the steering wheel a little tighter and bit the inside of her cheek. She just hoped they were working on getting her the right kind of help. Cassidy was starting to have doubts.