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

Of course, I gave her the egg and walked back across the street with her to make sure she got home safely. By that time, her mom had gotten out of the shower and noticed her daughter was missing. She ran into the yard when she saw us walking up the sidewalk, and we nearly lost the other egg when Sash swept her daughter off the ground.

When things settled down, she invited me in. In some ways, I never really left.

Turns out, the egg had been for a surprise birthday cake. Natalie, four years old going on fourteen, managed to mix up a halfway decent chocolate Bundt with very little supervision. Her mom poured the batter into the tin and put it in the oven, but that was it.

I don’t know why I’m saying all this. None of this is usable, I guess. I just . . . I want it on the record somewhere that Natalie is a good kid. She is special to people—to me, to Martín. To her mother, Sash, most of all. Natalie has a pure heart and a strong will, and I will kill anyone who tries to take those things away from her. I will—

I know they are connected. No one wants to believe that TCK is back, but two girls have gone missing three days apart and they’re the right ages and that’s more than enough information for me. We don’t need to wait until Amanda turns up dead at the end of the week. We can stop this before the worst happens.

We are closing in. Sam and I, we have a good lead, and we’re going to solve this. We are going to find these girls and stop this man before they get hurt.

We have to.

32

Elle

January 19, 2020

“I can tell you’re still awake.”

Martín’s voice sliced through the silence in their dark bedroom. He took off his clothes and climbed under the sheets with a shiver. Elle flipped over to face him. She could just make out his profile in the shadows.

“Murder?” she asked.

He’d been called out to a suspicious death scene, which meant Elle had come home to a dark house, an apple for dinner, and a long night of recording thoughts she couldn’t share publicly on the podcast yet, if ever. She had tried to look into the faculty pages on the Mitchell University website, searching for the bundled-up man Ed-uardo saw, but the thing was a mess, and half the stuff she followed led to broken links. After a while, she had just given up, hoping Sam would have better luck at the police station.

Martín turned onto his side, putting one arm across her body. “Suicide, looks like. I’ll know more after the autopsy tomorrow. Are you all right?”

“I can’t stop thinking about Natalie. Have you talked to Sash? Do you know if they’ve found anything?”

“A detective interviewed me this morning at the morgue. I get the feeling they’re eliminating all the men in her life first, which can’t be that many.” He squeezed her hip, moved his face closer until his forehead brushed hers. His breath was warm and smelled like toothpaste. “How are you? I know you must be frustrated, not being able to help.”

She kissed him and then shuffled down the bed, burying her face in his chest. Then she told him about everything that had happened since that morning: getting dismissed by Ayaan, the surprise request from Sam, talking to Duane and realizing how much he hated her, catching Eduardo at the university. By the end, her mind was racing.

“I keep trying to think of all the reasons why Leo’s murder and Amanda’s kidnapping might be connected. It just doesn’t seem like a coincidence.” At last, she paused, taking a deep breath as Martín pulled her tightly to him.

Tracking down Eduardo had felt like such a huge discovery, but nothing had really changed. Natalie and Amanda were still missing. Elle was still technically barred from the case, and Sam would probably find out about it when he saw Ayaan again tomorrow. She felt like TCK was taunting her, giving her enough evidence to convince her while holding back anything that could help her persuade others.

“I was thinking,” Martín started, then went quiet again.

“Yeah?”

“When the detective talked to me this morning, it seemed clear they think Amanda’s kidnapping and Natalie’s were done by two different people. But you still think it’s connected, right?”

She pressed her nose into the warm skin of his neck, unsure if she wanted to confirm it out loud even after everything she had just said. Because although it was the truth that she still suspected TCK, she wanted to hide from it. Every time she let herself think about it, she saw Ayaan’s doubt and Sash’s fury. If she admitted that to Martín and he still didn’t believe her, she wasn’t sure how she’d cope with that.

“Why do you ask?” she finally said.

“Well, you’re looking for the connection between Leo’s case and Amanda’s, but there’s one thing you haven’t suggested.” Martín pulled back and tilted her chin up. Even in the dark, they were close enough that she could see his expression. “What about you?”

She froze. “What?”

“What if the connection is you? Leo emailed you and ended up dead. And Natalie is . . . Natalie is ours. What if this is about getting revenge on you?”

The skin on her neck burned where his breath landed. “Are you saying you believe me now, that this is TCK?”

“I’m not saying it’s definite, but Leo’s chop shop being used to get rid of the abduction vehicle adds another thread that wasn’t there before. The connection between the three cases shouldn’t be disregarded. If we’re going to convince the police it’s TCK, we need to have an answer for why he has suddenly struck again.”

Elle chewed the corner of her lip, fingers wrapped in Martín’s T-shirt. “What about Amanda, though? She wasn’t connected to me, not