Page 118 of Secrets Hidden In The Glass
He loved that Dad didn’t tell him what he should do. His parents had taught their children to think for themselves. “I want to get my hands on the case files. I don’t think Callie’s too crazy about the idea, but I took the first steps anyway. I’ve been playing phone tag with one of the missing persons detectives down in Hartford since early this morning.” He turned back to the desk and wiggled the mouse, waking up his computer and moving to a couple of articles he’d bookmarked. “Until I can talk to him, I’m going to move forward with tracking down the waitress who found Callie. For all intents and purposes, she’s the only witness—or at least, that’s what I have to assume until I can get the files.”
“Those are good thoughts. Sounds like you’re off to a solid start.”
“Am I missing anything?”
“Doesn’t sound like it. Getting your hands on those case files is imperative—starting at the beginning is your best bet at finding answers now. But you know that.”
He nodded even though Dad couldn’t see him. “There’s a video on YouTube. It’s called ABC News Little Girl Lost. Would you be willing to look at it and give me your impressions?”
“You know I will.”
“I appreciate it. I’ll send along some articles I found—catch you up with what I know.”
“I’ll give them a once-over.”
“That would be great.”
“So, things between you and your stained glass artist sound pretty serious.”
He smiled. “We’re taking things a day at a time.”
“There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“It seems to work for us.”
“Will Callie be there for Thanksgiving when your mother and I head back to town?”
“That’s the plan.” Or he hoped it was.
“We’re looking forward to meeting her.”
“I’m looking forward to introducing her.”
“I’ll take a look at the video and anything else you want. I’m retired but I like to keep my feet wet.”
Nate grinned, hearing the new energy in Dad’s voice. “Let me know if you have trouble finding the link.”
“Will do. Bye, son.”
“Bye.” He hung up, a little less uncertain than he had been before he made the call. Dad thought he was moving in the right direction, which was good because he needed to get this right for Callie. He sat up, ready to get back to it, and clicked on the first article he’d skimmed earlier this morning dated July 8, 1995—three days after Justine Battleman had found the abandoned child and the media picked up the story. He reread Justine’s quotes—her worries and well wishes for the poor little girl—before he switched screens and entered Justine’s name and last known city of residence into his database now that he had the time to look. Within seconds a DMV photo resembling the woman in the article popped up along with her current information. “Well, that was easy.” He punched her address into the white pages and tracked down a landline number before he picked up the phone and dialed.
“Hello?” a woman answered in a gritty smoker’s voice.
“Good morning. My name’s Nate Carter with the Carter County Sheriff’s Department. Can I please speak to Justine Battleman?”
“This is she.”
“Great.” He picked up a pen and grabbed a notepad. “How are you this morning, ma’am?”
“I’m fine. What can I do for you?”
“Ms. Battleman, I’m doing some follow-up work on the Little Girl Lost case. I’m hoping I might be able to count on your help to answer a few questions.”
“You said you’re from Carter Island?”
“Yes.”
“Isn’t that in Massachusetts?”
