The Neighbor - Lisa Gardner [61]
“Bedtime,” Ree mumbled. “We got on PJs—”
“What did you wear, Ree?”
“My green Ariel nightgown.”
“And your mother?”
“She wears a purple shirt. It’s very long, almost to her knees.”
D.D. made a note, another detail that could be corroborated, given the presence of the purple nightshirt in the washing machine.
“So after pajamas?”
“Brush teeth, go potty, climb into bed. Two stories. A song. Mommy sang ‘Puff the Magic Dragon.’ I’m tired,” the girl declared abruptly, a trace petulant. “I want to be done now. Are we done?”
“We’re almost done, honey. You’ve been doing a really good job. Just a few more questions, okay, and then you can ask me anything you want. Would you like that? To ask me a question?”
Ree regarded Marianne for a bit. Then, with a sudden, impatient exhalation, she nodded. The girl had the stuffed bunny on her lap again. She was rubbing both ears.
“After your mother tucked you in, what did she do?”
“I don’t understand.”
“Did she turn out the light, close the door, something else? How do you sleep at night, Ree? Can you describe your room for me?”
“I have a nightlight,” the girl said softly. “I’m not five yet. I think when you are four, you can have a nightlight. Maybe, when I ride the school bus … But I’m not on the school bus yet, so I have a nightlight. But the door is closed. Mommy always closes the door. She says I am a light sleeper.”
“So the door is closed, you have a nightlight. What else is in your room?”
“Lil’ Bunny, of course. And Mr. Smith. He always sleeps on my bed ’cause I go to bed first and cats really like to sleep.”
“Is there anything else that helps you sleep? Music, a sound machine, a humidifier, anything else?”
Ree shook her head. “Nope.”
“What is the name of my cat, Ree?”
Ree grinned at her. “I don’t know.”
“Very good. If I told you those chairs were blue, would I be telling the truth or would I be telling a lie?”
“Nooo! The chairs are red!”
“That’s right. And we only tell the truth in the magic room, don’t we?”
Ree nodded, but D.D. could read the tension in the child’s body again. Marianne was circling around. Circling, circling, circling.
“Did you stay in bed, Ree? Or did you maybe get up to check on your mommy or go potty or do anything else?”
The girl shook her head, but she did not look at Marianne anymore.
“What does your mom do after you go to bed, Ree?” Marianne asked softly.
“She has to do her schoolwork. Grade papers.” The girl’s gaze slid up. “At least, I think so.”
“Do you ever hear noises downstairs, maybe the TV, or the radio, or the sound of your mother’s footsteps, or something else?”
“I heard the tea kettle,” Ree whispered.
“You heard the tea kettle?”
“It whistled. On the stove. Mommy likes tea. Sometimes we have tea parties and she makes me real apple tea. I like apple tea.” The girl was still talking, but her voice had changed. She sounded subdued, a shadow of her former self.
D.D. eyed Jason Jones, still standing against the far wall. He had not moved, but there was a starkness to his expression now. Oh yeah, they were homing in.
“Ree, after the tea kettle, what did you hear?”
“Footsteps.”
“Footsteps?”
“Yeah. But they didn’t sound right. They were loud. Angry. Angry feet on the stairs. Uh-oh,” the girl singsonged. “Uh-oh, Daddy’s mad.”
Behind D.D., Jason flinched for the second time. She saw him close his eyes, swallow, but he still didn’t say a word.
In the interrogation room, Marianne was equally quiet. She let the silence draw out until abruptly, Ree began speaking again, her body rocking back and forth, her hands rubbing, rubbing her stuffed toy’s ears:
“Something crashed. Broke. I heard it, but I didn’t get out of bed. I didn’t want to get out of bed. Mr. Smith did. He jumped off the bed. He stood by the door but I didn’t want to get out of bed. I held Lil’ Bunny. I told her to be very quiet. We must be quiet.”
The girl paused for an instant, then spoke suddenly in a soft, higher-pitched voice: “Please don’t do this.” She sounded mournful. “Please don’t do this. I won’t tell. You can believe me. I’ll never tell. I love you. I