And Then There Was One by Patricia Gussin

a model prisoner. That he was like a religious leader in the joint. Almost as good as a chaplain. The cons even called him “Reverend.”
    “How old is your daughter?” Agent Camry leaned into Norman’s face. He was particular not to let anyone in “his space” but this time he’d have to suck it up.
    “She just turned eleven, ma’am.”
    “Eleven years old. Do you remember what she looked like when she was nine months old?”
    The obnoxious bitch pulled a pack of color photos out of a folder. He hadn’t seen those pictures since the day he was sentenced. Why were they putting him through all this? All Norman could do was shield his eyes as Agent Camry painstakingly pointed out the limp, twisted arm of his baby girl; the bandaged head after doctors drained blood from inside the skull; the red, peeling feet and legs all the way to her waist; and the cigarette burns. With a twitch he remembered hisanguish when he’d recently discovered that Tina still had scars on her arms and legs.
    “You did that?” Camry’s face was just inches from Norman’s. He could smell the shampoo in her short brown hair. “Look at this,” she shouted. “Look at what you are capable of doing. You despicable bastard.”
    Norman glanced at Agent Streeter who sat, staring at him. He didn’t know how to react. He wanted to slug the woman. He struggled to recite his mantra — stay calm, breathe deep — but those photos were getting to him.
Yes, he’d done that
. Tina was born premature. She cried all the time. Connie couldn’t make her stop. Connie quit her job, and he’d had to work as a night watchman. He wasn’t getting any sleep so started to take speed. The drug had a terrible effect on him, an adverse reaction, he now knew. Amphetamines made him so horribly angry. He took more drugs. Uppers. Downers. Then cocaine and heroin. His brain was fucked up. He had never meant to hurt his baby girl. His mind had been messed up trying to support his family.
    “Stop it,” Norman said after a glance at the heinous photos. “Take these away.”
    Before Camry could react, the door to the interrogation room opened a burly, pasty-faced male agent entered, a wad of clothing in his big hands. “Sir, we found these in a plastic bag under the back panel of the suspect’s station wagon. Kid’s clothing.”
    “Why were these in your car?” Agent Camry grabbed the garments, inspecting them.
    Norman came close to shoving her back, but held back. “Can’t say,” he said. “Must belong to my daughter, Tina. Yeah, she musta put them in there.”
    “Hidden behind a panel?” Agent Streeter reached for the girl’s clothing, examined each garment, and handed them to Camry.
    “I didn’t know they were there. Connie must have stored them in there.”
    “You bastard,” Streeter shoved back his chair. On his feet, he towered over Norman, grabbed a hank of his hair and jerked him to a standing position. “You tell me now. Where are the Monroe girls?”
    Norman Watkins slumped forward and faked an epileptic seizure.

CHAPTER 11
    Thousands Protest amid Call for Annulment of
Iran Presidential Election.

— International News, Tuesday, June 14
    Jackie had never been in a TV studio. She’d heard the adults talking about doing the TV show at the studio or doing it at the FBI. She was sure glad they decided to leave that horrible FBI Building. It scared her. People looked mean and some of them even had guns. The only ones she liked were Agents Camry and Streeter. They were nice and really cared about her, too. But so far they had not been able to find Alex and Sammie and that was making her more and more scared.
    When they’d first gotten to the television building, she’d been excited, but when they put her in a room and left her alone, she started to cry. Not out loud, just sniffles. She was very, very scared. Maybe whoever took her sisters would come to get her, too? That was worrying her more and more. That must be why Mom made her stay with