abductions. All I’m saying is that, if there is a kidnapper, then her father may be complicit.” Evans paused for a moment, then finished by saying, “Which is why you’re not going to find anything in her room.”
He opened the door to the car and got in. Mitchell grinned. Is he starting to get an attitude? Or is he playing with me? She watched him as he clicked his seatbelt into place. He looked back out at her through the car window.
“Oh, come on. Don’t look so disappointed,” he said, his voice muffled by the car.
She grinned, walking around the front of the car to the driver’s side. She climbed in and started the car. As she buckled her seatbelt, she said, “Well, I guess we’ll just have to go see if there really is nothing to find, won’t we?”
“I guess so,” Evans grinned.
Mitchell pulled out her phone and placed a call before throwing the car into drive and pulling out of the parking lot. As she drove down the long driveway back to the road, she brought the phone up to her ear.
“Chief Wilson,” she said into the phone. “It’s Agent Mitchell. I was wondering if I could borrow Officer O’Conner.”
***
Mitchell’s flashlight swept across the dusty floor underneath Stephanie’s bed. She laid on her side as she peered under the bed. She found a few pairs of shoes and a few crumpled receipts. But nothing seemed out of order. And judging from the thin layer of dust that remained undisturbed, nothing had moved in the last few days.
Mitchell sighed, reaching out her hand, Evans took it and helped her back to her feet. By the window, Officer O’Conner inspected the window frame closely. She moved to the lock and shined her own flashlight on it even though sunlight from outside poured through the window. O’Conner squinted as she moved her head around, carefully taking in if any marks had been made recently to the old window lock.
They had been over the room carefully. Nothing at all seemed out of place as far as Mitchell could tell. They had asked the Clarks a series of questions about how Stephanie had been the previous night. Everything pointed to a vivid nightmare, Mitchell hated to admit.
“Fine. It looks like you might be right,” Mitchell admitted. “There’s just nothing here. So what? I owe you a beer?”
Evans shrugged and smiled. “I got lucky.”
“No, that’s more than luck,” Mitchell shook her head. “What are you thinking?”
“Well, chances are Stephanie is suffering from some form of PTSD that manifests itself in nightmares and even waking dreams. She probably did see something here in her room last night. It just might not have actually been here.”
He pulled out his notebook with the crucifix and flipped through the pages until he landed where the chain marked his spot. He began making notes.
“Right,” Mitchell said, “But something has to have caused that PTSD.”
Officer O’Conner shrugged and turned from the window. “No evidence of forced entry and the Clarks assure me this window was locked last night. The whole house was locked up,” she said. But then in a softer voice, she added, “But then, that’s never stopped them before.”
Mitchell’s attention shifted completely to O’Conner. She’d met her a year ago, but they had spent limited time together. She recalled that O’Conner had a fiancé at the time. She realized that in her focus on the case, she hadn't even asked about how she was doing. Glancing down at her hand, she noticed the wedding band on her left hand. But what really drew in Mitchell’s attention was that last statement. Could it be that O’Conner was a believer?
“Them?” Mitchell asked.
“The …” O’Conner pointed up. “You know … aliens.”
Evans looked up from his notebook now and Mitchell could see the hint of bemusement in his eyes and in the way the right corner of his lip curled up ever so slightly.
“You believe in aliens, officer?” He asked.
O’Conner looked from Evans back to