@nonpareil [david]: can you stay on the line?
silence stretches from lee's end of the phone call. the ruby-colored blackberry cellphone remains pressed to her ear, hickory gaze drifting over the scattered files across the carpet. two six-year-old girls abducted over thanksgiving > the only suspect, a man with an i.q. score of a whopping ten. he was, by all definitions, incapable of orchestrating such a crime. no one else had surfaced on the list of suspects either. not even the fathers of the missing girls. and everyone knows, like primetime nancy grace on the television, the fathers are always the first suspects in cases like this. but not here. this time, both men had airtight sealed alibis: themselves. they had been in the same room, under the same roof, in the shared company of their living wives, when the girls vanished from their small quaint neighborhood.
there had been a parked rv that'd lured the children over to investigate, but when david had spoken to alex jones, it led nowhere. another dead end leading straight back to square one.
the brunette's lips part, but no sound follows. her eyes flicker between the documents, trying to piece the puzzle together. any small piece she, or david, may have missed over the past forty-eight hours. there's a nagging feeling in her gut, a tension pulling tight on the threads inside her stomach. something's slipped past them. a someone, lee surmises from the feeling in her gut. they're right on the verge of a discovery, but nobody can see it yet.
looks can be deceiving, but if you stare long enough, even the most unlikely truths can come into view.
"yes," she finally answers. her free hand sliding to her neck, massaging the knot formed beneath the skin. leaning back, lee stares up at the popcorn ceiling. "have you found something?"
