CA 50.7 Little Girl Lost by Debra Webb Read Free Book Online Page B

had chosen for free time. Puzzles mostly. Word and number puzzles.
    Jenna thought again of the people who, like her, had lost their children. Could these seven children really be the answered prayers of more than a half-dozen families? She watched the child the people here called Diamond, hoping to see some mannerism or gesture that would confirm she was her daughter.
    Chances were she would remember nothing of her mother and father or of home. How many kids could remember as far back as three years old? Especially after a major trauma.
    That would be hard to accept —Sophie not remembering anything. Jenna had kept her daughter's room exactly as it was. Not because she expected Sophie to use it when she came home, but because it held all the memories that perhaps seeing it, touching it, could evoke. Jenna's former friends had thought she was a little loony for keeping the room that way. None of them could understand the agony and desperation of losing a child, or the lengths she might take to get her child back. Not at all.
    Though she tried not to show any preference since she was likely being watched, Jenna was drawn to the little dark-haired girl at the head of the table. She pulled up a chair and sat next to her. The child appeared completely absorbed in a word puzzle. The kind
    where the words were hidden among rows and rows of letters going in nearly every direction. The thing made Jenna's eyes cross just looking at it.
    Diamond made a soft sound of frustration. Jenna blinked and watched more closely as the child went over the letters she had circled and circled them again with her crayon. When she'd finished, she did it again.
    What was she trying to spell out? Jenna studied the circled letters.
    H...E...L...P...U...S...
    The air fled from Jenna's lungs as her gaze collided with those blue eyes that were so very familiar to her.
    Help us.
Chapter Six

Chapter Six
    May 4, 5:15 p.m.
    Paul was waiting at the door when Jen parked in front of the duplex. When she made no immediate move to get out of the car he bounded down the steps to meet her. By the time he reached the driver's-side door she was climbing out. The fear and worry on her face shouted loud and clear that the day hadn't gone the way she'd hoped.
    "What happened?" His fingers clenched to avoid reaching out to her. Damn, she looked so helpless.
    "The children asked for help, Paul."
    He'd imagined all sorts of horrors she might have witnessed or suffered today, but he hadn't anticipated that announcement. He took her by the arm. "Let's take a walk."
    At this point he wasn't sure of anything. This situation was beginning to feel a lot bigger than some whack job snatching children or some facility trying to get away with unapproved testing. If his worries held any merit, Jen's temporary residence could be bugged. There was something big about to go down here, and Jen had been drawn into it for a reason.
    Jen explained how right after lunch she'd been allowed into the classroom and Diamond, the little dark-haired girl she believed might be Sophie, had sent her a message in a remarkably covert manner.
    "Each of the children did the same thing as I moved around the table to admire and praise their work."
    "You're thinking the others followed her lead." Jen nodded adamantly. "Dr. Hancock mentioned that the other students look to her for guidance. I'm sure he had no idea that a rebellion was brewing. Something is wrong in that place, Paul."
    The breeze whipped up, sending a discarded soda can rolling down the street. At the far end of the block a couple of teenagers played basketball. Otherwise, the neighborhood was quiet.
    "Any new observations about the little girl?" He wanted to ask if she'd had the opportunity to check for the scar.
    "I didn't really get a lot of time with the children. Dr. Hancock's head of research, Mrs. Hancock, had other plans for me."
    "His wife?" That would make sense considering what Paul had learned today.
    "Maybe. She wasn't exactly