“Hey little guy,” whispered a man as he sat in front of me. “My name is Detective Norman Jayden. What’s your’s?”
“M-Merle.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Merle.” Mr. Norman said as he shook my hand.
“How old are you, Merle?” Mr. Norman asked.
I held up three fingers. “I’ll be four next April, how old are you Mr. Norman?”
Mr. Norman laughed. I don’t think I said anything funny.
“28,” Mr. Norman said. “Merle, do you remember what happened the night a ‘bad guy’ took your mother?”
I nodded. “Momma told me to stay behind the couch. And I…” I held out my pinky finger like Momma does, “you can’t tell Momma or Daddy.”
Mr. Norman nodded. “I won’t”
“I took a peek. The bad guy looked like Daddy…”
Mr. Norman raised his eyebrows.
“But it wasn’t Daddy. Daddy’s got tough-guy muscles. And the bad guy had a belly. And Daddy’s got brown hair. The bad guy’s hair was yellow. Like mine!” I held out a piece of my hair to Mr. Norman. “Momma said that’s a Dixon thing. Blonde hair and blue eyes. That’s all I remember Mr. Norman.”
