IT'S NOT WHAT IT LOOKS LIKE! Three quick, classic cases.

A CHILDISH KIDNAPPING, PART FOUR

CONCLUSION

There was no time to doubt whether she could do it, there was only doing it. 

The detective had said that the young lady did not seem to enjoy lying, so she might not even need much of a push. However, it was easier said than done: after she asked her to speak for a moment to clarify some details of her testimony, after they went inside and she had Margaret in front of her, Alice felt frozen in place. Until then she had managed to go on with no experience on how to do the job, doing her best to copy the detective's moves that she had witnessed in action; taking the policemen outside was a mere logical guess based on the situation. Being alone to question someone and make them confess to some truth was not the same at all. She regretted having put herself forward to get the task done; maybe she'd only asked because she didn't believe her new employer would give her such a responsibility.

Her inner conflict was, as always, not visible on the outside – great advantage to have.

The woman looked at Miss Hardin, nervous as ever, playing with the fabric of her dress; then back down, pretending to be browsing through the notes. "Let's see what we have here..." she whispered, talking to herself to gain some time. To make the girl feel safe enough to confide in her, she needed to make herself familiar; to make herself familiar, there needed to be a point of contact. A vague idea suddenly came into her mind. Turning her head to the side, pretending to be distracted by a specific element of that house, she spoke at last: "I was wondering... And pardon my going off topic for a moment... I was wondering about those pictures."

Margaret looked to the same direction, with a sad smile blooming in her face. "Ah, the drawings... Timmy drew those during our lessons. I'm trying to teach him art, not just writing. "

"That's an excellent idea, creativity is especially important to cultivate in children."

"And adults too," she responded nodding, with an air of seriousness. "Everyone should let themselves be creative, I believe."

"Of course, art is the perfect outlet for those bits about being a human being we can't quite explain with the sciences."

"Yes, that's right!"

The excited gleam Alice saw in Miss Hardin's eyes told her she was going in the right direction. "Those frames are really nice too. I can tell that Timmy is loved by everyone around him just looking at this proud display." In receiving no response, she doubled down. "Were they bought by Mr Wright?"

"Yes..."

The following silence made the woman fear that she might have made a mistake; she decided to follow her instincts, and push on anyway. With a soft, calm tone she said: "I can tell you care a lot about him too, Margaret."

"I do..."

"I think... no, I know, that you would never do anything to hurt this family on purpose."

"Never!"

"And that you would tell me if you had information that could resolve this stressful matter, for everyone's sake, because it would be of everyone's benefit, Timmy included."

The girl looked down with a most contrite expression; then, after a few seconds, she turned her head toward the narrow staircase to the second floor.

"Is he upstairs, in his room?"

She nodded, and said, with a shaky voice: "It's the one on the left. He's locked from the inside. He won't let anyone in, unless the door is forced open."

Alice stood up, with a racing heart and newfound determination: succeeding now meant a peaceful resolution to all of that was happening; it wasn't important only as a job, but also at a human level. She had no pretence to be able to erase all the hurt that had led to that, however, it was a step toward the right direction. She got up the stairs, and right in front of the bedroom entrance. "Timmy," she yelled, loud enough to be heard by him and, hopefully, also by Mrs Osborn. "I know you're in there, and I know you won't say a thing, but at least listen up. My name is Alice, I work with a detective, we were called in here to help find you. No one else except Margaret and I knows you're in here. If I tell them, they will come and break the door down, to take you out of there. But I don't want that to happen, I want you to make the right choice, because what you're doing is not fair to Mr Wright, who didn't do anything wrong, and most importantly to your mother, who is worried sick, and whom you're hurting by trying to slander one of the two people who have helped her in probably a very long time, and who she trusts." Behind her, she heard creaking; in front of her, there was some movement too.