“What is she afraid of?”
Paige’s shoulders dipped. “White vans with tinted windows, shadows . . . the dark. Everything, I guess. Mostly she’s afraid of the woman who tried to take me.”
“Most of the police report has been blacked out. How old would you guess the woman to have been at that time?”
“Gosh, about forty, at least,” Paige said. “The police were skeptical of the person being a woman.”
“Why?”
Paige shrugged. “I just remember my parents getting angry when the police asked me over and over if I was sure there wasn’t someone else in the car. At one point I started crying because I could tell they didn’t believe me.”
Earlier Sawyer had read about profiling criminals, including child abductors, who tended to be single men and social outcasts.
“Mom thinks that the woman who tried to take me has been watching us all these years.”
Sawyer’s skin prickled. “Does she have reason to believe that’s true?” Sawyer asked. “I mean, has she seen someone?”
Paige’s eyes narrowed. Her gaze fixated on Sawyer’s backpack. “You’re not recording this, are you?”
“That would be illegal unless I asked you for permission. But the answer is no. I’m not recording our conversation.” Sawyer opened her backpack and showed her in hopes of gaining the girl’s trust.
Paige peeked inside, then nodded.
Sawyer sipped her coffee. “Do you think the woman who tried to take you that day is watching you?”
“Sometimes.”
The girl was fidgeting, clearly uncomfortable. Sawyer waited.
“In the beginning,” Paige explained, “right after the incident, we would find dead birds and rodents on the pathway to our house. Dad thought it was pranksters, but it scared Mom, and she was convinced the driver of every white SUV was the woman who tried to take me.”
“Did you ever see her again?”
“I saw a similar car parked outside the house a few times, but the vehicle never stuck around long enough for me to get a look at the driver.”
“That would be unsettling. Has your mom always been easily frightened?” Sawyer asked.
“Not until after I was almost taken. She changed after that. My parents started fighting all the time because Mom wouldn’t let me out of her sight. They ended up getting divorced.” She swallowed. “Everything changed after that day.”
“Do you still remember what happened?”
Paige’s eyes watered. “I don’t think I’ll ever forget. But it’s weird because after it happened I thought I remembered every little detail. Like what I ate for breakfast and Mom saying I should get going so I wouldn’t miss the bus.” Paige fiddled with the button on her shirtsleeve. “I was excited about a history test because I knew I would ace it.” Paige met Sawyer’s gaze. “I even remember what the woman was wearing. I mean, I can still see it in my head.”
“Mind if I take notes?”
“Go ahead.”
Sawyer found pen and paper in her bag. “What was she wearing?”
“Those plastic shoes. Crocs! Red, with holes in them. And a jean skirt, white top, and a red button-down sweater with little ladybugs. The weird part is that I didn’t remember the red sweater until months after it happened.”
Sawyer lifted a brow. “It just popped into your head suddenly?”
Paige shifted in her seat. “Yes. I was sitting in the cafeteria, eating lunch with a group of people, when my best friend joined us. She was wearing jeans and a red sweater. Hers didn’t have ladybugs or any design at all, but all of a sudden, I saw the woman standing on the side of the road with her arm in a sling. The red sweater stood out. Every button. Every ladybug.”
“Did you tell anyone?”
“No way. By that time I knew my mom would freak out if I brought up anything about that day.”
“It sounds like repressed memories.”
“That’s exactly what the psychiatrist said.”
“So you did tell someone?”
Paige swatted at a fly. “Just a psychiatrist I saw on and off after it happened. My parents couldn’t afford it, so I stopped going.”
Sawyer couldn’t help but worry about the girl. The divorce. Her mother always hovering and frightened. That couldn’t be good for Paige. “So this person—”
“Psychiatrist.”
“So this psychiatrist thought you might be experiencing repressed memories?”
“Yes. She said the brain sometimes hides things to keep the bad memories away, and that’s why, little by little, new details like the sweater could sneak up on me over the years. And she was right.”
Sawyer had a million questions, but she didn’t want to overwhelm the girl. “Do you mind telling me from the beginning what happened that day?”
Paige looked at the clock on the wall. “I’ll have to talk fast.”
Sawyer nodded. Waited.
“It was early in the morning. My bus arrived at 8:05, so it had to be around 7:55 a.m. Like I said, I was excited about taking the test, eager to get to school. My bus stop is only two and a half blocks from my house. When I saw the woman with a sling on her arm, she was standing at the back of a big white car—”
“Do you know what kind of car? Ford? GMC?”
“No, but I saw two number sevens and the letter L on the license plate. It was parked next to the sidewalk, and the woman stood at the back. Right as I passed by, she moaned as if she were in pain. That’s when a package dropped to the ground. I was close enough to the bus stop to see a group of kids still waiting, so I decided to help the woman.”
Sawyer nodded as she took notes.
“Because I had my eyes on the bus stop, I didn’t really get a good look at the woman’s face in that moment. I just walked right over to where she stood and then bent down to pick up the package. And that’s when I saw it.”
“Saw what?”
“Something in her hand—the one in the sling. It was a syringe with a needle that doctors use to give shots, and she was about to poke me in the arm with it, so I twisted around and swatted it away. But that made me lose my balance, and I fell to the ground. I tried to crawl away, but she grabbed hold of my ankle and held tight, so I used my other foot to kick her.”
“And then you ran?”
“I was on the ground and felt trapped, which is why I scrambled underneath her SUV. With my backpack strapped to my back it was a tight squeeze. When I looked back at her, she was reaching for me. ‘Stop!’ she said. ‘Come back here!’ She called me by someone else’s name, Holly or Molly. I’m not sure which. I hurried out the other side as fast as possible. Once I was on my feet again, I ran, and I never looked back.”
“Where did you go?”
“I know it sounds stupid, but I went to the bus stop. It was closer than home.”
“Not stupid at all.”
“A couple of parents were standing there with the other kids. I was crying by then. I had scrapes on my face and hands. By the time I took one of the parents to the spot where it had happened, the woman with the needle was already gone.”
“I know you and your parents went to the police and filled out a report.”