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Then up she took back on a hook,
Determined for to find her.
They found her indeed, but it made her heart bleed,
For she left her head behind her.
It happened one day, as Princess did stray
Into a meadow hard by.
There she espied her hide on its side,
All hung on a tree to dry.
She heaved a sigh, and wiped her eye,
And ran over the hills in all weather,
And tried what she could,
As a Princess bitch should,
To tack Little Princess back together.
“What the fuck is this?” The words barely came out in coherent form.
He motioned me further away from the crowd. “I said the same thing. It’s a bastardized version of Little Bo Peep.” He tilted his head toward the table. “Phoebe screamed when she read it. Said she used to sing it as a little kid until Dalton decided to drag her into a closet and tell her it meant little girls who were bad got taken, sold, and their heads cut off.”
“Jesus Christ.” I couldn’t breathe.
“Yeah. Apparently, he left her in there for over eighteen hours before anyone found her. She heard the words and lost it.”
I wanted to go to her, but after last night, I couldn’t. “Hough, this proves it’s Dalton.”
His gaze shifted from Phoebe to me. “Julian, there’s still no concrete evidence. It’s Phoebe’s memories. That’s not proof. The agents can’t take that to court.”
I closed my eyes, the words of the rhyme ringing in my head. “The last line. He called Iris Little Princess.”
“So?”
“That’s my nickname for her. No one knew that. He wouldn’t have known that. He has help, Hough, and not just the bitch in Faith’s office. No one here thinks McKellan is ‘missing,’ and you know it. He’s a dirty guard. Dalton wouldn’t risk coming out of hiding to do all this shit by himself. Find McKellan and whoever the fuck Penelope Hammond really is, and you’ll find Dalton.”
Hough’s only acknowledgement was a quick nod of his head. Confused, I turn to find Phoebe standing behind us, still clutching the yellow scarf, her eyes empty and vacant. Everything inside of me screamed at me to comfort her, but memories from last night held me back. Blowing out a rough breath, I shoved my hands in my pockets to stop myself from touching her.
“I need to tell you something,” she confessed, holding out the scarf as if it were an offering.
I looked at it, keeping my hands deep in my pockets. “I’m listening.”
Huge tears fell from her swollen eyes as she cleared her throat. “That note came with this scarf. It wasn’t the first time.”
I eyed her closely. “What do you mean it wasn’t the first time?”
“Don’t you remember? We found one on the bedroom floor when the window was broken.” She took a breath. “I found one tied to the mailbox before the baby shower. Then there was the one tied around the bear’s neck.”
“What?” I couldn’t believe she’d kept the second one from me.
“I tried to tell you after the bear arrived, but I was so out of it, I didn’t…you left before…then we seemed…”
