Chapter 3-3
407 Words
KIMBERLY’S ROOM WAS every eight-year-old girl’s fantasy. While the rest of the trailer looked like it’d been hit by a hurricane that deposited cheap bullcrap and trash in its wake, Kim’s room was filled with dozens of stuffed animals and matching pink furniture. There were posters of Donny and Marie, David Cassidy, and the Beatles on every wall. There were Barbie dolls and toys everywhere. It looked like a Toys ‘R Us threw up in there.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Adelaide said. “And yes, we spoiled her.”
“You spoil her, you mean. She ain’t dead yet.”
“Of course,” Adelaide replied, crying again. “I can’t believe—I’m just saying we loved her.”
“I get it,” I said after a long pause. “What was the fight about?”
“What makes you think it was a fight?”
“Guilt. It’s written all over your face. What was the fight about?”
“She wanted to get her ears pierced. I told her no. She freaked out and locked herself in her room. I wanted to go after her, but I work three jobs to support this family.”
“And you didn’t know until she was—”
“Until the end of my shift.”
“That is a stupid reason to run away. Still, it’s never about the reason, is it?”
“I don’t know.”
“I lived in a poor house too, where my mama worked too much for too long to get by, and I know Kim’s type, at least, so that’s something going in your favor. Is anything gone from the room?”
“Just her teddy bear.”
“Teddy bear?”
Adelaide nodded. “Yeah. She never went anywhere without that teddy bear. Teddy was his name.”
“There’s a hundred stuffed animals in this room, and she only brought Teddy?”
“I guess. That’s what I’m saying. She loved that bear more than anything.”
“Maybe that’s a good thing. Since she didn’t take a bag she probably wasn’t planning to be gone for long, like you said—course, that also means something might’ve happened to her, like you feared.”
“What is it you are looking for exactly?”
I wanted to give her some good news, but the truth was I was just doing my best Joe Friday. I had no idea what to look for in a crime scene except what I saw on TV. “Clues, ma’am. And I’m afraid I’m not finding many.”
“You sound just like the cops,” she replied.
She was right, and it was just about time to figure out what they knew. I was wasting my time already. I might as well waste time at the police station.
*
- Writer
