The Room Behind the Kitchen
The station seemed to change after that sentence.
Nobody moved dramatically, because nobody did; but the ordinary sounds that had blended unnoticed into the evening suddenly stood out separately—the ticking clock near the hallway, the low hum of the vending machine, a distant keyboard click—and Hannah became aware that Officer Mercer, who’d been opening a drawer behind the desk, had frozen with his hand still on the handle.
Evan sighed.
“This is what I’ve been trying to explain. She’s mixing up dreams with something she saw on TV.”
Hannah stood slowly.
“I’d like to talk with Lily somewhere quieter.”
“Is that really necessary?”
“Probably not,” Hannah said calmly, “but since she came here specifically wanting to talk to us, I’d like to give her that chance.”
Evan looked at Claire.
Claire stared at the floor.
A few minutes later they were in a small interview room normally used for routine conversations, not investigations, and Lily sat in a chair so tall her shoes swung several inches above the floor.
Hannah left the door partly open.
She didn’t want the child feeling trapped.
Evan sat against the wall while Claire stayed in the corner, still clutching her purse, and Officer Mercer stood just outside the doorway.
Hannah took the chair across from Lily.
“Tell me about the lady in the yellow dress.”
Lily rubbed one of the teddy bear’s ears between her fingers.
“Her name was Brooke.”
Hannah didn’t recognize the name.
“Who was Brooke?”
“She stayed in the little room.”
“What little room?”
Lily pointed vaguely behind herself.
“Behind our kitchen. The room with no outside window.”
Evan shifted sharply.
“That’s our pantry area. We had a family friend staying there temporarily. That’s all.”
Hannah looked at him.
“I’ll speak with you in a minute, Mr. Whitmore. Right now I’m listening to Lily.”
Something in her voice ended the interruption.
She turned back to the child.
“Did Brooke have another name?”
Lily nodded.
“Brooke Ellis.”
Hannah felt the smallest shift in the room behind her.
Officer Mercer had caught it too.
He stepped into the hallway without a word.
Lily kept going in the serious, careful way children sometimes speak when they’re working hard not to forget any part of a story.
“Mommy said Brooke was my aunt, but Brooke said she wasn’t really my aunt. She said she was just staying with us until she felt better.”
Claire finally spoke.
“Brooke was an acquaintance who needed help. Lily doesn’t understand adult conversations.”
Again Hannah ignored the interruption.
“Was Brooke sick?”
Lily considered the question.
“She coughed a lot at night.”
“Did anyone give her medicine?”
The child’s fingers stopped moving against the teddy bear.
She looked toward Claire.
The look was brief, but Hannah caught it.
So did Mercer, who’d returned to the doorway with his radio in hand and an expression that was no longer casual.
“Mommy made her a drink,” Lily said.
Hannah kept her voice even.
“What kind of drink?”
“Green.”
“Like juice?”
Lily shrugged.
“It was in the little cup from the bathroom.”
Evan stood.
“That’s enough.”
Hannah turned.
“Please sit down.”
“My daughter is three years old.”
“Which is exactly why nobody here is leading her or putting words in her mouth. Sit down.”
For a second Evan stayed standing, his jaw clenched tightly enough that Hannah could see the muscle along his cheek.
Then he sat.
Lily watched him carefully before continuing.
“Mommy told me Brooke liked me better, so I should take it to her.”
Hannah felt something cold settle in her stomach.
“And did you?”
The child nodded.
