The Neighbor - Lisa Gardner [16]
“Mommy and me.”
“Does your mom hog all the hot water? Use up all the soap?”
“No. But she won’t let me have the soap. Once I poured the whole bottle into the tub. You should’ve seen the bubbles!”
“That must’ve been most impressive.”
“I like bubbles.”
“So do I. And after the bath?”
“Well, we took a shower.”
“My apologies. After your shower …”
“Went to bed. I get to pick two stories. I like Fancy Nancy and Pinkalicious books. I also get to pick a song. Mommy likes to sing ‘Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star,’ but I’m too old for that, so I made her sing ‘Puff the Magic Dragon.’”
“Your mother sang ‘Puff the Magic Dragon’?” D.D. didn’t have to fake her surprise this time.
“I like dragons,” Ree said.
“Umm, I see. And Mr. Smith, what did he think of this?”
“Mr. Smith doesn’t sing.”
“But does he like songs?”
Ree shrugged. “He likes stories. He always curls up with me during story time.”
“Then your mother turns out the light?”
“I get a nightlight. I know I’m four and three-quarters, but I like having a nightlight. Maybe … I don’t know. Maybe when I’m five … or maybe thirty, then I won’t have a nightlight.”
“Okay, so you’re in bed. Mr. Smith is with you—”
“He sleeps at my feet.”
“Okay, he’s at your feet. Nightlight is glowing. Your mom turns off the light, closes the door, and then …”
Ree stared at her.
Jason Jones was staring at her now, too, his gaze faintly hostile.
“Anything happen in the middle of the night, Ree?” D.D. asked quietly.
Ree stared at her.
“Other noises. People talking. Your door opening? When did Mr. Smith leave you?”
Ree shook her head. She wasn’t looking at D.D. anymore. After another second, she curled back into her father’s side, her skinny arms wrapping tightly around his waist. Jason put both arms around her shoulders and regarded D.D. flatly.
“Done,” he said.
“Mr. Jones—”
“Done,” he repeated.
D.D. took a deep breath, counted to ten, and debated her options. “Perhaps there is a family member or neighbor who could watch Clarissa for a bit, Mr. Jones.”
“No.”
“No, there is no one who can watch her, or no, you won’t do it?”
“We look after our daughter, Detective …”
“Sergeant. Sergeant D.D. Warren.”
He didn’t blink at the mention of her title. “We look after our daughter, Sergeant Warren. No point in having a child if you’re simply going to let others raise her.”
“Mr. Jones, surely you understand that if we’re going to help find … Mr. Smith … we’re going to need more information, and more cooperation, from you.”
He didn’t say anything, just held his daughter close.
“We require the keys to your truck.”
He said nothing.
“Mr. Jones,” D.D. urged impatiently. “The sooner we establish where Mr. Smith isn’t, the sooner we can establish where she is.”
“He,” came Ree’s muffled voice from against her father’s chest. “Mr. Smith is a boy.”
D.D. didn’t respond, simply continued to study Jason Jones.
“Mr. Smith is not in the cab of my pickup truck,” Jason said quietly.
“How do you know that?”
“Because he was already gone when I came home. And just to be safe, I checked the vehicle myself.”
“With all due respect, sir, that would be our job.”
“Mr. Smith is not in my truck,” Jason repeated quietly. “And until you get a search warrant, you’ll get to take my word for it.”
“There are judges who would grant us a warrant based on your lack of cooperation alone.”
“Then I guess you’ll be back shortly, won’t you?”
“I want access to your computer,” D.D. said.
“Talk to the same judge.”
“Mr. Jones. Your … cat has been missing for seven hours now. No sign of her—”
“Him,” Ree’s muffled voice.
“Him, in the neighborhood or at the usual … cat haunts. The matter is growing serious. I would think you’d want to help.”
“I love my cat,” Jones said quietly.
“Then give us access to your computer. Cooperate with us, so we can resolve this matter safely and expediently.”
“I can’t.”
“Can’t?” D.D. pounced. “Or won’t?”
“Can’t.”
“And why can’t you, Mr. Jones?”
He looked at her. “Because I love my daughter more.”
Thirty minutes later, D.D. walked with Detective Miller back to her car. They had printed