Page 109 of Girl Between

At first, Dana was tempted to agree. Miriam Barton appeared a feeble and obsessive woman, wrecked by grief. But when Dana looked past her frail exterior, she saw a spine of steel. There was no other way to explain the woman’s ceaseless search.

Miriam Barton may have let her home and appearance wane. But her mind was sharper than ever. The woman had systematically tracked her daughter’s disappearance, explaining her research to them. Stating how she’d collected and researched missing person cases.

First, from the surrounding states—Mississippi, Texas, Alabama, Arkansas, Georgia, Florida. Then branching out further in a circular arc. At one point, she’d even answered the question neither George nor Dana had the courage to ask.

“I know the likelihood of finding Elizabeth now,” said Miriam, her fingers going to the dainty necklace at her throat again. “But a mother never stops searching for her child.”

Dana knew the feeling. And in her experience, it went the other way as well. Which led her to believe that Elizabeth Barton was no longer on this earth. If she was, and possessed even a fraction of her mother’s grit, she would’ve found her way back to the tireless woman who’d done everything in her power to find her daughter.

“I wish we had better news,” Dana said, clutching her teacup.

“So do I,” Miriam acknowledged. “Somehow, even knowing she’s still part of the discussion helps. Elizabeth may not be here any longer, Dr. Gray. But I refuse to let her memory disappear.”

“I admire that,” said Dana, taking a moment to sip her tea and collect her emotions. They were too close to the surface. This was why she didn’t like field work. People were unpredictable. And so were emotions.

Right now, Dana was battling both.

She hadn’t expected to connect with the silver-haired mother. And she hadn’t expected to miss her own so deeply. She looked up to say so, when she noticed Miriam clutching her locket again. “That’s a beautiful necklace,” Dana commented. “I couldn’t help noticing you touch it when you talk about your daughter. Was it a gift from her?”

“Keen observation,” Miriam answered. “But no, I bought it. I bought Elizabeth a matching one. Each locket has a photo of the other inside. I gave it to Elizabeth on her first day of school and told her as long as she wore it I would always be with her.” Miriam smiled fondly as she touched the locket. “I know it’s foolish, but we promised we’d never take them off. And it’s a promise I’m too superstitious to break.”

“I don’t think it’s foolish at all,” said Dana.

Miriam stared intently at Dana, fingers still around the locket. “I swear I can feel her sometimes. Her essence. I know she’s still alive.”

“I hope that’s true,” Dana admitted.

“You know,” Miriam said. “As long as you continue to say their names out loud, they’re never truly gone.”

“Who?” Dana asked.

“The dead.”

George strolled back into the room. “We’re needed back at the station,” he told Dana. Turning to face Miriam, he offered his respects. “Thank you for your time and hospitality. If we have any information regarding your daughter’s case, we’ll reach out. I promise.”

“You know where to find me,” she said, forcing a practiced smile.

95

Dana stewedon the information they’d gathered at the Barton home the entire drive back to the station. It wasn’t much.

They’d gone over the information in the case file about when her second cousins went missing. Miriam had nothing new or contradictory to offer. She’d even been willing to answer Dana’s questions about when her daughter went missing and her friendships with the other girls and their families.

Dana had been hoping it would spark something in her mind about the current victims. But it had been fruitless. Yet she couldn’t erase the hundreds of images of missing persons covering Miriam’s walls from her mind, or her haunting final words.

“It’s horrifically sad,” Dana finally said. “How can that many women continue to go missing?”

George shook his head. “I wake up every morning praying I’m making a difference, but when you see something like that …” He shook his head again. “If I were her, I don’t know if I could keep going.”

Dana turned to him. “You can. You have.”

An unspoken understanding passed between them. “Who told you?” he asked.

“Lena.”

George ran a hand over his face, disguising whatever he was feeling.

“Don’t be mad,” said Dana. “I asked.”