Chapter 18: The Footage

The police station in Dayton smelled of floor wax and burnt coffee.

Tyler drove me down at dawn on Monday, and neither of us said much.

At the front desk he took my hand, and I let him.

The detective met us in the hall.

She was about fifty, with short gray hair and a gray cardigan, and she did not smile.

"Ms. Hartwell. Thank you for coming in person."

"Thank you for calling."

"Your mother is in the waiting room," she said. "She came on her own."

She glanced down the hall.

"She has asked to speak to you before she speaks to me."

I looked down the hall.

At the end of it, on a plastic chair, sat a woman in a pressed blue blouse with her purse on her knees.

She did not look up.

"Not yet," I said.

"That's your choice."

"I want to see the footage first."

The detective led me into a small room with a table and a monitor.

Tyler sat on my left. She sat across from us.

She turned the monitor and pressed a key.

It was the Maple and Rye Bakery, from a camera above the register.

The time stamp in the corner said Friday, 4:12 p.m.

A woman in a white blouse and a ribbon stood at the counter.

It was Brynn, and she was laughing at something the baker said.

There was no sound. I could see the baker's hand slide a single plastic cup across the glass.

It was small, and brown on top, with a crunch of something sprinkled over the mousse.

Brynn paid in cash.

Then she pointed to a roll of stickers by the register, and the baker tore off a strip and handed it over.

Keep reading free with an account. Start Mom Hung Up on My Call for Help to Toast My Cousin, So I Vanished from Chapter 1, then sign up free to read the rest of this chapter.