Cutler 01 - Dawn

and a dark blue tie. Her reddish-brown hair was cut short and she had bushy eyebrows. Her eyelids drooped so that she looked sleepy. She was carrying a notepad under her arm and went around the table to the other side. She sat down, put the pad on the table, and looked up at me without smiling.
    "I'm Officer Carter," she said.
    "Where's my little sister and where's my brother?" I demanded. I didn't care who she was. "I want to see my daddy, too," I added. "Why did you put us all into separate rooms?"
    "Your daddy, as you call him, is in another room being questioned and booked for kidnapping," she said sharply. She leaned forward with both her arms on the table. "I'm going to complete our investigation, Dawn. I have some questions to ask you."
    "I don't want to answer questions. I want to see my sister and my brother," I repeated petulantly. I didn't like her, and I wasn't going to pretend I did.
    "Nevertheless, you will have to cooperate," she proclaimed. She straightened up sharply in her seat, bringing her shoulders back.
    "It's all a mistake!" I cried. "My daddy didn't kidnap me. I've been with my momma and daddy forever and ever. They even told me how I was born and what I was like as a baby!" I exclaimed. How could she be so stupid? How could all these people make such a horrible error and not see it?
    "They kidnapped you as a baby," she said and gazed down at her pad. "Fifteen years, one month and two days ago."
    "Fifteen years?" I started to smile. "I'm not fifteen yet. My birthday isn't until July tenth, so you see—" "You were born in May. They changed it as part of the cover-up of their crime," she explained, but so nonchalantly it turned my blood cold. I took a deep breath and shook my head. I was already fifteen? No, I couldn't be, none of this could be true.
    "But I was born on a highway," I said, hot tears burning into my eyes. "Momma told me the whole story a hundred times. They didn't expect it, I was delivered in the back of the pickup truck. There were birds and—"
    "You were born in a hospital in Virginia Beach." She gazed at her pad again. "You weighed seven pounds and eleven ounces."
    I shook my head.
    "I have to confirm something," she said. "Would you please unbutton your blouse and lower it."
    "What?"
    "No one will intrude. They know why I am in here. Please," she repeated. "If you don't cooperate," she added when I didn't move, "you will only make things harder on everyone, including Jimmy and the baby. They have to remain here until this investigation is completed."
    I lowered my head. The tears were escaping now and zigzagging down my cheeks.
    "Unbutton your blouse; lower it," she commanded. "Why?" I looked up, grinding the tears away with my small fists.
    "There is a small birthmark just below your left shoulder, isn't there?"
    I stared at her, the cold wave rushing over me and streaming down my body, turning me into a statue made of ice.
    "Yes," I said, my voice barely audible.
    "Please. I have to confirm that." She stood up and came around the table.
    My fingers were cold and stiff and far too clumsy to manipulate the buttons on my blouse. I fumbled and fumbled.
    "Can I help you?" she offered.
    "No!" I said sharply and succeeded in opening my blouse. Then I lowered it over my shoulders slowly, closing my eyes. I sobbed and sobbed. I jumped when she put her finger on my birthmark.
    "Thank you," she said. "You can button your blouse again." She went back to her seat. "We have footprints to match . . . just to finish the confirmation, but Ormand Longchamp has confessed anyway."
    "No!" I cried. I buried my face in my hands. "I don't believe it, none of it. I can't believe it?'
    "I'm sure it's a shock to you, but you're going to have to believe it," she said firmly.
    "How did all this happen?" I demanded. "How . . . Why?"
    "How?" She shrugged and looked at her pad again. "Fifteen years ago, Ormand Longchamp and his wife worked at a resort in the Virginia Beach area. Sally Jean was a chambermaid, and Ormand was a handyman at this hotel. Soon after you were brought home from the hospital, Ormand and"—she looked at the pad again—"Sally Jean Longchamp stole you and a considerable amount of jewelry."
    "They wouldn't do such a thing!" I moaned through my tears.
    She shrugged again, her pale face indifferent, her dull eyes unfeeling, as if she had seen this happen time after time and was used to it.
    "No . . . no . . . no . . ." I'm in the middle of a nightmare, I told myself. Soon it will