When the Bough Breaks by Jonathan Kellerman Read Free Book Online Page A

done anything wrong. We know you’re a good girl.”
    Her eyes moved around the room, avoiding me.
    “I’m here because you may have seen something last night that’s important. When you couldn’t sleep and were looking out the window.”
    She didn’t answer. I continued.
    “Melody, what kind of things do you like to do?”
    Nothing.
    “Do you like to play?”
    She nodded.
    “I like to play too. And I like to skate. Do you skate?”
    “Uh-uh.” Of course not. Skates make noise.
    “And I like to watch movies. Do you watch movies?”
    She mumbled something. I bent closer.
    “What’s that, hon?”
    “On TV.” Her voice was thin and quivering, a trembling breathy sound like the breeze through dry leaves.
    “Uh-huh. On TV. I watch TV, too. What shows do you like to watch?”
    “Scooby-Doo.”
    “Scooby-Doo. That’s a good show. Any other shows?”
    “My mama watches the soap operas.”
    “Do you like the soap operas?”
    She shook her head.
    “Pretty boring, huh?”
    A hint of a smile, around the thumb.
    “Do you have toys, Melody?”
    “In my room.”
    “Could you show them to me?”
    The room she shared with her mother was neither adult nor childlike in character. It was no more than ten foot square, low-ceilinged with a solitary window set high in the wall, which gave it the ambience of a dungeon. Melody and Bonita shared one twin bed unadorned by a headboard. It was half unmade, the thin chenille spread folded back to reveal rumpled sheets. On one side of the bed was a nightstand filled with bottles and jars of cold cream, hand lotion, brushes, combs and a piece of cardboard onto which a score of bobby pins were clasped. On the other side was a huge, moth-eaten stuffed walrus, made of fuzzy material and colored an atrocious turquoise blue. A baby picture was the sole adornment on the wall. A sagging bureau made of unfinished pine and covered with a crocheted doily, and the TV, were the only other pieces of furniture in the room.
    In one corner was a small pile of toys.
    Melody led me over to it, hesitantly. She picked up a grimy, naked plastic baby doll.
    “Amanda,” she said.
    “She’s beautiful.”
    The child clutched the doll to her chest and rocked back and forth.
    “You must really take good care of her.”
    “I do.” It was said defensively. This was a child who was not used to praise.”
    “I know you do,” I said gently. I looked over to the walrus. “Who’s he?”
    “Fatso. My daddy gave him to me.”
    “He’s cute.”
    She walked over to the animal, which was as tall as she, and stroked it purposefully.
    “Mama wants me to throw him out ’cause he’s too big. But I won’t let her.”
    “Fatso’s really important to you.”
    “Uh-huh.”
    “Daddy gave him to you.”
    She nodded, emphatically, and smiled. I’d passed some kind of test.
    For the next twenty-five minutes we sat on the floor and played.
    When Milo and the mother returned, Melody and I were in fine spirits. We’d built and destroyed several worlds.
    “Well, you’re sure lookin’ frisky,” said Bonita.
    “We’re having a good time, Mrs. Quinn. Melody’s been a very good girl.”
    “That’s good.” She went over to her daughter and placed a hand on her head. “That’s good, hon.”
    There was unexpected tenderness in her eyes, then it was gone. She turned to me and asked:
    “How’d it go with the hypnotism?”
    She asked it the same way she might inquire, how’s my kid doing in arithmetic.
    “We haven’t done any hypnosis yet. Melody and I are just getting to know each other.”
    I drew her aside.
    “Mrs. Quinn, hypnosis requires trust on the part of the child. I usually spend a little time with children beforehand. Melody was very cooperative.”
    “She didn’t tell you nothin’?” She reached into the breast pocket of her shirt and pulled out another cigarette. I lit it for her and the gesture surprised her.
    “Nothing of importance. With your permission I’d like to come oversome