Girl, 11 by Amy Clarke (best memoirs of all time TXT) 📕

family around. Which reminded her: there was at least one other element to this case that she knew about, although Sam didn’t know she did.

Trying to appear casual, she looked away from him as she asked, “Did you ever find anything on Leo—anything that looked like a clue he might have been about to give me? I’m guessing it would be something he printed, or maybe something on his computer.”

Suspicion flashed in Sam’s eyes, but the smirk didn’t leave his lips. “Sorry, that’s privileged information. Couldn’t give it to you even if I wanted to.” He turned on his heel and walked through the security doors into the main police office.

Elle watched him, temper flaring. If they had gotten access to the flash drive and there was something important on it, she had no way of knowing. And if Sam talked to Luisa first, she was sure he would tell her not to talk to Elle if she ever came sniffing around. She groaned, glaring at her notebook again. A long yawn made her eyes water. The day stretched out, endless and exhausting, in front of her. If she could convince Ayaan to look at her theory, they’d have several hours to investigate it before she had to pick up Natalie from piano lessons this afternoon. But the commander had to get to the station first.

Fifteen minutes later, Ayaan finally stepped off the elevator into the lobby. She wore a rose gold hijab and matching hoop earrings, with a navy blazer and slacks. Her outfit was sharp, but her eyes betrayed her—she looked as exhausted as Elle felt. There wasn’t a lot of sleep involved when you were on a missing child case. Elle clasped her notebook and stood, saying the commander’s name a little too loudly.

Ayaan looked surprised to see her. “Elle, how long have you been here?”

“Not long,” Elle lied. “I wanted to talk to you before you got busy.”

She searched Elle’s face for a moment before nodding. “Come on in. I want to see if we got any tips on the sketch overnight, and then we can talk.”

While Ayaan spoke to the night squad lieutenant, Elle made herself a coffee in the staff kitchen and then sat in the commander’s office, antsy and buzzing from lack of sleep and too much caffeine. After a few minutes, she opened her bag and pulled out all her papers. In addition to her handwritten notes, she had transcripts from her podcast with portions highlighted, crime scene photos, witness statements about TCK’s penchant for wearing bright clothes. All of this she spread out over Ayaan’s desk, as if to cover it with enough evidence that she might be believed.

“Well, we got about sixty tips, but nothing that sounds promising,” Ayaan said as she walked into the office. When she saw her desk, she paused, studying what was on it.

Elle held her breath as she watched Ayaan’s expression, waiting for the light of realization in her eyes. It never came. A couple minutes passed, and then Ayaan met Elle’s gaze. She looked concerned. Elle hated that.

“I’m fine,” Elle said, taking a drink of coffee.

“You think Amanda Jordan was taken by the Countdown Killer?” Ayaan sounded baffled.

Elle stood up and walked around the desk to stand next to Ayaan. She pointed to a picture of the thirteen-year-old girl. “Katrina Connelly. She was abducted from a bus stop by a man in a van. Witnesses said a man told Katrina that her mom was sick and he had been sent to pick her up. He was wearing a bright paisley scarf and a neon green hat.”

Ayaan did not look up from her desk. “That was twenty-two years ago, Elle.”

“He did the same thing with Jessica Elerson.” The name caught in Elle’s throat as tears ached behind her eyes. “Then Nora Watson said he convinced her to get in his car because he said her mom had been in an accident and was in the hospital. It’s such a vulnerable position to put a young girl in, to worry about her mother.”

When Ayaan didn’t say anything, Elle continued. “He didn’t die, Ayaan. I have never believed he died, and my podcast has uncovered that the body everyone said was TCK’s probably belonged to a man at least a decade older. Maybe he’s been in prison for something else all this time, and he just got out. Maybe he was married, and whatever it was that made him a murderer went dormant for a while. Maybe he’s pissed about the progress I’m making in my investigation, so he intentionally took someone in Minneapolis to get to me.”

Elle stopped for a breath, realizing her hands were shaking around her coffee cup. She turned away from Ayaan to stare at the desk, at all the ashen faces of those ruined girls.

After another moment, Ayaan’s hands came to rest on Elle’s shoulders. Her body jumped at the touch, so unexpected. She gently turned Elle around, and Elle raised her gaze to look into the commander’s dark brown eyes.

“Elle, you need sleep.”

“It’s been almost seventy-two hours since Amanda was taken.”

“I can hold down the fort for a few hours. You go home and rest for a little while. You’re no good to Amanda if you’re exhausted.”

Tears sprang up, and Elle blinked them away, looking at the floor. She couldn’t cry here; she didn’t need another reason for anyone to think she couldn’t handle herself. But soon tears were spilling over and dripping down her cheeks. After a few minutes, Elle regained control and pulled away from Ayaan’s comforting grasp. She opened her bag and pulled out a tissue. Wiping under her eyes, she straightened her shoulders and looked at Ayaan.

“You don’t believe me.”

Ayaan’s head tilted to the side, and her gaze was obnoxiously full of pity. “Elle, come on.”

“I know TCK’s work, Ayaan. I know his methods. This feels like him; I don’t know how else to say it. I know you’re an experienced detective, and I know I’m just