CHAPTER 284: SMILE AND VANISH

The holding rooms weren’t designed for comfort. They weren’t cold, exactly, but they weren’t warm either—just neutral. A kind of in-between space where the walls didn’t echo but still felt like they were listening. Temporary protection for people caught in the middle of someone else’s chaos.

Jacob sat on the edge of the cot, elbows on his knees, hands clasped so tightly it looked like he was trying to keep something from falling apart. His eyes flicked to me the moment I entered.

"Mr. Vale," he said, standing.

I motioned for him to sit back down. "No need to get up."

Behind him, Lea was curled on a beanbag chair in the corner, a blanket draped over her shoulders and a half-colored sheet of paper on the tray in front of her. A plush rabbit leaned against her side, its ear chewed from stress or habit—I couldn’t tell which.

"I have a few questions," I said quietly, "for her. Just a few. Then I’ll be out of your hair."

Jacob didn’t look thrilled, but he nodded. "Are you sure? I feel like this might be too much for her."

"I understand your concerns, but she’s the only one who can help us here. I promise to stop if she seems like she can’t handle it anymore."

I crossed the room slowly and crouched near Lea, careful not to block her space.

"Hey, Lea."

She looked up, eyes still the same shade of guarded curiosity I’d seen the first time. Not afraid—just distant. Like she hadn’t quite decided if the world deserved her attention yet.

"Do you remember me?" I asked gently.

She gave a tiny nod. "You’re the one who came home with daddy yesterday."

I nodded. "That’s right. You helped a lot already. But I was wondering if you could help just a little more."

Her lips pressed into a line. The rabbit’s ear went to her mouth again.

"Do you remember if someone came into your room at night?" I asked.

A small shrug. "I don’t know."

That was expected.

I reached into the folder under my arm and pulled out one of the polaroids. The one where she was clearly looking at the lens. I slid it across the tray so she could see it.

"Do you remember this?"

She stared at it for a long moment.

Then her eyes flicked to mine.

"There’s a stuffed bunny in the bed with you," I pointed out. "But in this photo... it’s on the floor."

I waited.

My Interrogation skill pulsed faintly—non-invasive, more like a whisper brushing the edge of her memory. And it worked. A little flicker ran across her expression. Not fear. Recognition.

"Yes," she whispered. "I dropped him."

"Why did you drop him?"

"Because someone was there."

Jacob tensed behind me. I kept my attention on her.

"You saw someone?" I asked.

She nodded.

"Can you tell me what they looked like?"

Another pause. The rabbit’s ear was almost soaked now.

"They were skinny," she said. "Their skin was very very white and....they had... long hair."

"How long?"

"Like... like Mommy used to have. But messy. And they didn’t talk."

"Did they touch you? Or your things?"

She shook her head quickly. "No. They just stood there."

My Psychological Insight kicked in—stress levels rising. Fast. Her shoulders tensed, her throat tightened. Her breathing had turned shallow.

I held up a hand. "Okay. That’s enough for now."

I stood and grabbed a small paper cup from the dispenser near the door, filling it with cold water. When I returned, she hadn’t moved, but her eyes looked glassier than before. I didn’t realize how far I had pushed her.

I offered her the cup.

She took it with shaking hands and drank.

I waited until her breathing evened out.

"I’m sorry," I said softly. "That was too much, wasn’t it?"

She simply looked at me. As if she herself didn’t understand why she was feeling like this and as a detective, I should be the one who knows and can tell her.

Jacob mouthed a silent thank you behind her. I gave a faint nod in return.

Grant’s words echoed in my head: Be careful with your words.

He’d been right. Without Interrogation and Psychological Insight, I might’ve missed the signs completely. Might’ve pushed too far, too fast. In a courtroom, pressure made cracks appear. But in a child?

Cracks didn’t just split. They shattered.

I crouched again, this time slower, letting the silence linger before speaking.

"You’re doing really well," I said. "One last question. Then I promise I’ll let you rest."

She looked at me over the rim of the cup.

"Have you ever seen this person before? Not in your room. Somewhere else."

Her brow furrowed. She thought hard. Longer than before. I didn’t rush her.

Finally, she said, "Yes."

I leaned forward slightly. "When?"

"Sometimes..." she started, then trailed off. "Sometimes outside school. They don’t come close. But I see them from the windows."

My breath caught.

"Are you sure it’s the same person?"

She nodded. "I think so...they have the same smile."

I blinked. "Smile?"

"Yeah," she said, voice quieter now. "They always smile. Like this—" she mimicked it, lips stretched unnaturally wide, not happy. Just open.

"Do they ever approach you?"

"No. When I see them, they always run away. Sometimes not right away. But they never stay long."

"Do they look at you when they smile?"

"Sometimes," she whispered. "Sometimes at me. Sometimes at other kids. Or grown-ups. I don’t think they care who."

A chill went through me.

I straightened slowly and turned toward Jacob. His knuckles were white against the cot.

"You need to keep her under full watch," I said. "No school for now. Not until we know more. If you need anything make sure to tell Officer Grant."

He nodded.

I turned back to Lea.

"Thank you," I said. "You were very brave. I promise that this place will be safe."

She didn’t answer.

But the rabbit was finally out of her mouth.

That was enough for now.