Daddy's Little Girl Page 8

  Tears appeared once again, and this time she didn’t fight them and simply let them flow, dropping to her knees in the field, sobs echoing.

  Several minutes passed, her shadow growing as the sun slowly but surely made its way toward the horizon.

  She needed to start digging, for once it grew dark she didn’t want to be outside, not in this field away from home, uncertain of what might be lurking.

  But first she needed to find a spot for him, one that would be pleasant and help with the loneliness of being way out here.

  An idea arrived.

  Maybe she could make it so he wasn’t lonely.

  Maybe she could bury him with the schoolgirl he had brought home.

  Would that make him happy?

  At home, he had always been excited once he had a new schoolgirl to play with, and in the videos he always seemed to be enjoying himself, so maybe if he couldn’t be by her mother, being by one of his girls would be the next best thing.

  She looked around the field while considering this, her eyes trying to see something that he would like to be buried near, but nothing jumped out at her. It was just a field, and not a fun one with trees and streams. Instead, it had weeds.

  One spot is as good as the next.

  Or was it?

  She had no idea, but given that the sun was continuing to fall, she decided to start digging, her goal being to have him within the hole and sealed away before the sun disappeared.

  Such was easier said than done.

  Digging was harder than she expected it would be.

  She needed Bitsy.

  They always made a good team when digging the holes for the schoolgirls that Daddy was finished with, Bitsy doing the digging while Misty stood over her in her prison mistress outfit, a whip in hand, cracking it against Bitsy’s back whenever she slowed, threats of a punishment echoing.

  But Bitsy was gone, and without her they couldn’t play the digging game. It needed two people.

  Did she really go for help?

  The memory of being shaken by her was stronger now than it had been earlier and didn’t seem like something her mind had fabricated. But if she had gone to get help, why wasn’t she back yet? Had something happened? Had someone found her and decided to take her home to their daughter? Would someone do such a thing knowing she already belonged to someone else?

  Would Bitsy tell them about her?

  Or was she so upset about the other night that she decided to stay with the new family?

  Regret appeared.

  Bitsy had only been doing what Misty had asked, which was what she was supposed to do. Such was her purpose in life, and she had simply been fulfilling it.

  All because of the videos.

  Was that why Daddy had never wanted her to watch them? Had he known she would grow curious about what she saw and eventually want to try it? Had he known that Bitsy would act like a boy with her and help her experience what she saw? Was that why he had wanted to get rid of her last year, statements on how Misty was too old to have toys like Bitsy being made?

  His stance had softened with her tears.

  It always did.

  She sighed, focus shifting to the hole she had dug.

  It wasn’t deep enough.

  Wouldn’t be for hours, at the rate she was going, but with the sun nearly set and the darkness settling in, she couldn’t keep going.

  The hole could wait a day.

  Daddy wouldn’t mind.

  In fact, it would probably be better because once morning came and she had more time, she could explore a bit more and maybe find a spot that was better. Plus, Bitsy might be back by then and they could make a game out of it. She had her prison mistress outfit and her whip. Both were in her bag along with all the other things she had packed after Daddy told her they had to leave. And she had Daddy’s bags, and though she wasn’t sure what exactly he had packed, she had a feeling there would be lots of fun things in there that she and Bitsy could play with.

  Or would he rather she buried all his things with him?

  Indecision gripped her.

  Many of the items were things he used with the schoolgirls he brought home, so putting them in the ground alongside him might be the proper thing to do.

  She would have to think on this.

  Did he bring the black toy?

  The question brought about memories that she didn’t need to dwell upon at the moment, so she pushed them away. One thing she did know: if he had brought the black toy, she wasn’t going to bury it with him. No, no, no. She was going to keep that one as a gift to herself. And maybe the pink toy.

  Actually, there was no “maybe” about it.

  She was keeping both.

  Her daddy wouldn’t mind.

  Both items made her happy, and while he probably would have been upset if he knew what she was doing with them while he was at school or away on his hunts, now it would be different. He was gone and she was in charge. She wouldn’t have wished it to be this way, but it was so. If she wanted to play with the black and pink toys, she could. If she wanted to play with the policeman in the barn, she could. If she wanted Bitsy to act like a boy again, she could.

  Thinking about Bitsy and what they had done the other night forced her to a sudden stop as the memories brought about a sensation that made walking impossible, her hand quickly pressing itself into the fold between her legs to stifle the warm tingle that began to build, a soft moan escaping her lips.

  Once it faded she was able to continue her journey back toward the house and barn, her elongated shadow reaching them first now that the sun was nearly at the horizon, and then continuing beyond as she came upon it, eventually stretching all the way toward the overturned van.

  Would it attract more police officers?

  With the sun setting she didn’t think anyone would be able to see it from the road the way the first police officer had, but come morning, once the sun was back in the sky, light shining down upon the world, it would be visible again.

  And what about the police officer’s car?

  That would be visible as well and would attract even more attention than the van.

  She needed to move it.

  But how?

  For several months now she had been begging her daddy to teach her how to drive, but he had always been reluctant, making statements about how she didn’t need to learn because he would always take her wherever it was she wanted to go. Plus, he didn’t really want her leaving the house on her own, not when her existence might bring about questions that were best left unasked.

  But now he wasn’t there and she would need to know how to drive, first so she could move the police car, and then, once she had the van unflipped, so she could do things like go shopping for food.

  Would she be able to unflip the van?

  Doing so by herself wouldn’t be possible, but maybe with the help of the police officer?

  Would he help her?

  What if he simply tried to get away once she unlocked him from the post?

  Getting him with the shovel had worked because he wasn’t expecting it, but now he would be more cautious of her and wouldn’t turn his back on her. And once he was unlocked from the post, she doubted she would be able to control him given how big he was. Just dragging him from the floor of the barn to the post had been difficult.

  His gun.

  She could threaten to shoot him if he tried to get away.

  But what if he still tried to get away and she missed him?

  He would bring more police officers here, and they would lock her up and throw away the key.

  But they’ll do that anyway if you don’t hide the police car.

  The thoughts overwhelmed her, panic setting in.

  She didn’t know what to do.

  She wasn’t ready for this.

  She needed someone to help her.

  She needed—

  Stop!

  The voice was like her daddy’s, though she knew it wasn’t really his.

>   Couldn’t be.

  Or could it?

  No.

  Once someone was dead they couldn’t talk with the living. He had explained this to her when she told him that Mommy still talked to her.

  But maybe he was wrong?

  Could he be wrong?

  Maybe his mommy didn’t talk to him after she had died, but her mommy did.

  “Daddy?” she asked, voice sounding funny to her given that no one was around.

  Nothing.

  “Please, I don’t know what to do.”

  Nothing.

  “I’m scared.”

  Nothing.

  He wasn’t there.

  Nor was Mommy.

  She was alone.

  With this thought, she headed back toward the barn.

  Five

  “How’s she doing?” Gary asked while pouring coffee into Katie’s mug.

  “Hard to say,” Katie said, reaching for a spoon. “She’s really guarded. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  Gary considered that for a moment and then took a sip of his coffee.

  Katie mirrored him, the brew foul upon her tongue.

  “We need a Keurig,” Gary said.

  “Oh no,” Katie said. “I don’t care how sludged up one of these pots becomes, coffee out of a plastic disc is a monstrosity that should carry a mandatory prison sentence.”

  “Spoken like a true rookie who is trying to impress.”

  “Watch it,” Katie said. “I’ve patrolled streets and neighborhoods that would make most CPD officers piss themselves.”

  “I don’t doubt that.”

  She was also the only one on this particular force who had taken a bullet, but that wasn’t something she was going to bring up, especially since everyone already knew about it, the mayor having mentioned it during her homecoming all those years ago.

  “So,” Gary continued, “Any hits on the name or the picture?”

  “No, nothing,” Katie said, suppressing her frustration.

  “And she won’t tell you what happened.”

  “No, though that may start to change. I get the sense that we’ve connected a bit. Not much and not to the point where she’ll feel comfortable talking, but a foundation has been set.”

  “Well, might want to kick things up a notch. I just spoke with Lieutenant Bell, and she has already notified the county about the girl and they’re going to send someone out.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Bell feels the county will be more qualified to handle her and that the van she escaped from was likely outside of our jurisdiction given that you were already on the edge of it when the two storm chasers found you.” He held up a hand to stop her protest. “I think it’s BS too, and that she’s overthinking, but she is the boss right now, and speaking on just a departmental handling capability, the county does actually have people for this kind of thing, whereas we don’t.”

  “So what if they have a department for it? She has started to grow comfortable with me, and that is something you don’t just toss away and start over on.”

  “I agree, and maybe the specialist will too.”

  Katie gave him a look. “Or they’ll believe that their training makes it so they are the only ones who can possibly deal with a girl in this situation.” She set her mug down hard, the coffee sloshing with the impact. “Any idea when they’ll get here?”

  “No, and given all the destruction, it may not be until tomorrow.” He grinned. “Sometimes being this far north isn’t such a bad thing.”

  “True,” Katie said. Smallwood officers often grumbled about the distance because of how long it took them to transport someone to the county lockup. They were so far from it that the jail in the next county to their north was actually closer to them than the one within their own county. Same with the courthouse.

  “Anyway, Bell agrees that you have built a bit of a bond with the girl, and thus she is leaving you in charge of her until the county gets here.”

  “Well, that’s something at least,” Katie said and then, knowing that Gary had likely suggested this to Bell, “Thanks.”

  “No problem.” He took a large swig from his mug, grimaced, and then topped it off. “I swear, first thing tomorrow, I’m going to start a donation bucket for that Keurig.”

  Katie smiled.

  “And the bigger one’s donation, the better their patrol routes will be.”

  “And if one doesn’t donate at all?”

  “Permanent high school liaison duty.”

  “Shit, let me go get my wallet.”

  Gary grinned and left the break room, turning right in the hallway to head toward the dispatch desk where he was fielding all the patrols and directing the emergency responders. Most would think it an odd, almost demeaning position for someone with so much time on the force, but it was the position he desired after all these years, and one that required a person to be quick thinking and able to respond without hesitation. It also allowed him to be the so-called “man behind the curtain” when it came to authority within the department. No one would ever say it directly, but Gary was pretty much the ranking official when it came to the law enforcement in Smallwood.

  Leaving the police station was easier than Bitsy thought it would be, her body simply following the red Exit signs through the hallways until she came upon a large heavy-looking door that was unlocked. Beyond it a square parking lot waited, one that she initially thought was walled in, but then, after crossing through it, she realized the large brick walls were simply other buildings that backed up alongside the rear parking area, alley-like driveways providing an entrance and exit for the vehicles pulling in and out.

  The rumble of the generator faded as she walked along one of those alleyway-like driveways, quickly emerging onto a deserted street that had two-story brick buildings on either side and slanted parking spots for cars. No meters were present, which surprised her. Most of the TV shows and movies she watched with Misty always had parking meters in downtown areas like this, ones that often would result in tickets for the main characters and confrontations between them and the local police.

  But not here.

  Why?

  No answer appeared.

  Later, once she found Misty—if she found her—she would ask about this. Until then, it would simply be tucked away within her mind, stored with all the other little things that had made an impression during her years with Misty.

  Which way?

  Once again, no answer appeared.

  She had no idea where Misty was, though from what she had overheard in the police station, she had been picked up on the southern outskirts of the town. All she had to do was figure out what that meant and then head in that direction.

  But what if she couldn’t find them?

  What then?

  She couldn’t picture herself with anyone but Misty, and from what Misty had told her, the chances of anyone else ever wanting her were slim to none. People wanted new toys, not used ones that misbehaved and were no fun to play with. Those toys ended up in trash heaps and landfills, or worse, with kids like Sid.

  Did Misty still want her?

  After the other night, Misty had barely spoken to her, and had it not been for them having to pack up and leave, she probably would still be in her box, left to wait and wonder when Misty would want to play with her again, fear that she would soon get a new toy to replace her dominating her thoughts.

  What if she already has a new one?

  What if she and the Daddy-man woke up, got the van back on its wheels, and drove away to their new home?

  What then?

  Katie?

  Even though the young lady was a police officer, Bitsy liked her, an odd warmth present when she was with her. Plus, she hadn’t treated her like a simple toy and had let her have a warm-water shower and as much pizza as she wanted. And soda. Misty let her have pizza and soda too, but not as much as she wanted, statements on how fat toys were no fun to play with always being made. Katie hadn’t s
eemed to care about that. But she also no longer played with toys. Bitsy had asked her about this while Katie had been sitting at her desk, before Katie had suggested she go lie down on the sofa and try to get some rest.

  “Never?” Bitsy had persisted.

  “Well, when I was younger I had some dolls, but my brother ripped off their heads and then set them on fire,” Katie had said, a laugh echoing.

  A Sid!

  “Does he still do that?” Bitsy asked.

  “I don’t know,” she said. “Maybe I should bring one home and find out.”

  Horrified, Bitsy realized that she needed to get back to Misty because even if someone seemed nice like Katie, they might have a Sid-like brother that they couldn’t protect her from. Misty didn’t have any brothers. It was just her, and while she could sometimes be cruel, she would never pull off Bitsy’s head and set her on fire. That was just—Bitsy couldn’t think of anything to adequately label how horrible something like that was.

  Would Katie really allow that to happen?

  Or had she simply been joking?

  As nice as she seemed, Bitsy knew she didn’t want to risk finding out.

  Couldn’t risk it.

  She had to find Misty.

  But which way?

  She decided to go left because to the right the street looked like it ended quickly and simply disappeared into the darkness. Plus, in the TV shows and movies she had watched, towns like this oftentimes had maps that people could look at, so once she found the main area of town she might find a large map to look at, one that would give her a better idea of where she needed to go.