The Chalk Girl Read Online Free PDF Page A

fairy sighting of the day.
    The boy on camera invoked a celebrity pixie of storybook fame to describe a child who was still at large in the park. ‘But she wasn’t blond like Tinker Bell. This girl had
red
hair.’ The boy’s smile became sly. With special glee and a touch of the ghoul, saving the best for last, he announced, ‘She was covered with blood!’
    Oh, great. Just great
.
    ‘I bet you’re wondering how I know you’re lying.’ Mallory did not say this unkindly, but her partner thought she
did
stare at the boy in the way a cat might gaze at its food – no eye contact. Riker wondered if she saw the child as all of one piece, like a slab of meat that wore a little baseball cap.
    The young day camper was slow to realize that he was no longer safe in the company of smiling, solicitous reporters. This tall blonde was an altogether different sort of creature – and he was in deep trouble. His mouth hung open when he looked up at her, as if she outsized the golden statue that was merely larger than life.
    Mallory grabbed the little boy’s hand and marched him around to the back of the monument that marked the entrance to Central Park. Riker followed close behind them to shield this kidnap from cameras on the other side of the plaza, where reporters interviewed the rest of the Jersey children, and where street musicians cranked up the music to compete with the honking horns of crazed drivers. Cars were frozen in a massive gridlock around Columbus Circle, and uniformed officers ran along the curb of the plaza, waving ticket pads at news vans insane enough to double-park. A civilian audience lined up to watch this circus, and food vendors appeared out of nowhere to cater the party.
    No one noticed the child snatched by the detectives.
    ‘That girl
did
have blood on her.’ The six-year-old’s voice was whiny now, but he did not cry, and Riker gave him points for that. The little boy looked down at his shoes, a sure sign of guilt.
    ‘Last chance,’ said Mallory, as if the authority to send him to hell was hers alone. ‘Tell me what—’
    ‘He
lied
.’ A second tiny camper, a girl with a ponytail, stepped out of Riker’s shadow and crept up to Mallory, saying, ‘That girl
wasn’t
covered in blood.’ The child cupped her hands around her mouth and whispered confidentially, ‘It was just a
little
blood.’ Shepointed to her own T-shirt and described the small red stains as they appeared on the missing girl’s shoulder and one sleeve. ‘Here, and here, too. Oh, and her name is Coco.’
    Riker opened his notebook. ‘Coco, huh?’ After jotting this down, his pen hovered over the page. ‘So . . . about this blood. Did you see a wound or a cut?’
    ‘No, she was just spotty, and she looked like this.’ The little girl put two fingers into her mouth and stretched it into a wide Halloween grin with gaps of missing baby teeth.
    ‘Well, that sort of fits.’ Riker held up a photograph of Mrs Ortega’s fairy figurine, and he showed it to this more reliable witness. ‘Did Coco look something like—’
    ‘That’s
her
!’ The little girl squealed as she jumped up and down, so excited she could hardly stand it. ‘I forgot about the
wings
!’
    Riker sighed.
    And the little boy, the
confirmed liar
, nodded. ‘Yup, she had wings, all right.’ Small hands jammed into his pockets, he looked up at the sky with newfound nonchalance. ‘She’s probably in Mexico by now.’
    Mallory hunkered down, her face a bare inch from the boy’s. No escape, no mercy. And Riker winced.
    ‘Tell me something,’ she said. ‘About those stains on Coco’s T-shirt – did you see that blood
before
the rats
ate
Mrs Lanyard?’
    The little boy’s body jerked to attention, eyes gone wide with the shock of a popped balloon. Evidently, this runaway camper had never looked back to see the rat attack. And the reporters – those
jackals
– had been too sensitive to tell him that the old lady was dead. All of this was apparent with