Page 87 of Identity Unknown
“You’ve been working for the Brileys a long time, haven’t you?” Tron says in a gentler tone.
“Going on twenty years, but I wouldn’t call us friends.” Wilma lowers her voice to an upset whisper as the cameras secretly record her every word and gesture. “I never liked the way they treated their little girl when she was here with them. So impatient. The mother especially.”
“Why would they bring Luna into this terminal?” Tron asks.
“When they were flying places on one of their private jets. I’ve been seeing them in here since Luna was born.”
“And the last time you saw her?”
“December,” Wilma says. “She wasn’t in and out very often, as sickly as she was.”
“Sickly in what way?” I ask. “What were you told was wrong with her?”
“It was generally known that she was… well, she wasn’t right.”
“Can you be more specific?” I go on.
“As I said, sickly. One was left to wonder whatwasn’twrong with her. A sweet child, always smiling even when the mother would yell at her for no good reason.” Wilma has a habit of looking askance at us as she talks. “Children are supposed to be curious. They’re supposed to get into things even when you tell them no.”
“And there’s plenty to get into here.” I indicate the bins of candy on the wall inside the sitting area. “I would think that was very tempting.”
“Every single time.” Wilma nods her head, the expression on her unfriendly face almost sad. “That child had a sweet tooth. And of course, candy wasn’t allowed. Apparently, she was diabetic.”
“How do you know that?” I inquire as I think about what Fabian told me.
Luna wasn’t prescribed insulin, her diabetes yet another lie.
“That’s what Mrs. Briley told me.” Wilma Gaither talks in a conspiratorial tone now as if we’re comrades. “She said don’t ever let her get into the candy unless you want her in a coma or dead. And…”
Her voice trails off. She doesn’t want to finish the sentence.
“And what?” I prod her.
“And when they were here right before Christmas, the little girl found a candy cane hanging on the Christmas tree we had near the fireplace.”
She points to the spot in the sitting area, describing Piper Briley snatching the candy cane from Luna and throwing it in the trash. She grabbed the child by the upper arms, shaking her hard, telling her how bad she was.
“I was getting coffee.” Wilma’s almost whispering. “I don’t think Mrs. Briley knew I saw the whole thing. The poor child was terrified, trembling like a leaf. And that wasn’t the only time I saw things…”
Wilma’s eyes fill with tears, and she impatiently snatches a tissue out of the box of them on her desk.
“Now look at what you’ve done. You’ve made me talk out of school!” she snaps at us. “Now I’ll probably lose my job.”
“You’d better hope you don’t lose more than that,” I reply.
Like your soul. If you still have one.But I don’t say it.
“You could have fucking told someone that the parents were abusive.” Tron turns to walk away.
“Maybe she’d still be alive.” I look Wilma Gaither in the eye.
As we pass through the lobby, Tron checks with investigators sealing electronic devices in big paper bags. They quietly confer about evidence listed in the warrant. One of them gives her a key to an SUV waiting outside. Then the two of us leave as Blaise Fruge is parking her unmarked Ford Interceptor in the misting rain.
The lights in the parking lot have switched on, the wet pavement scummy with pollen. Fruge is in jeans and a windbreaker, trotting up to us, and she can’t keep the smile off her face. She joins us beneath the overhang at the building’s entrance, huddling out of the rain.
“What brings you here?” Tron asks her.
“Endless follow-up, talking to people who work for the Brileys. Most of them liars, what a shocker.” Fruge is digging in a jacket pocket, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and a chrome lighter with an American flag on it.