"Yes, I found out about it this morning. It's part of the school program for pregnant teens. I've asked for access to their email loops."
"There's all kinds of stuff about losing weight and breastfeeding and diaper rash and what to feed a baby. Can you believe that? They have to be told what to feed their babies?"
"And?" Finn prompted.
"Brittany's user name is Hot-dash-T. Get it—Hottie?"
"I get it." Sounded like a porn name. Why did so many teenage girls act like skanks these days?
"She connected there with someone named SKORGirl." Mason spelled the user name for him.
Finn rubbed his forehead. Daisy Taylor's face appeared at the window. He held up five fingers to indicate he'd be back soon. "Is that name supposed to mean something to me?"
"SK, then OR—it might be Serena Kinsey, the girl in Oregon whose baby Tika went missing from her yard a month ago. Brittany was emailing her before that and they were both bitching about how boring it was to be stuck with a baby every night. Then after Tika disappeared, Hot-T's mail is all about how SKORGirl didn't do anything wrong and shouldn't beat up on herself. And then last night, at nine-thirty, Hot-T sent SKORGirl a message: 'Now we're truly like sisters. I know exactly what you're going through. Because now Ivy's gone too.'" Mason paused. "Do you think these girls conspired to get rid of their babies?"
It was at least an interesting coincidence. "Which town was the Kinsey case in?"
Finn heard faint typing sounds, then, "Portland."
"Thanks, Mason. Keep at it." Finn called the station, assigned a tech to research business records on Talking Hands Ranch and call Portland for a copy of the Kinsey case report. With the desk sergeant, he confirmed that the garbage bin detail had so far turned up no human remains or baby items.
"Unless you count a lot of used diapers, of course. We've received plenty of complaints, though," the sergeant said. "The phone's ringing off the wall with people asking why the cops are wasting taxpayer dollars going through their garbage. They also want to know when the garbage
will
be picked up."
In other words, they still had nothing. Finn rubbed his burning eyelids. Ashley Kowalski's limp form falling from the refrigerator flashed though his brain. The farm dog digging up baby John Doe. Tiny corpses. Shit. Why couldn't he turn off that mental video player?
Kidnapping or murder? Where was Ivy Rose Morgan? He remembered a list of special services posted at the station. He made another call to the station, held up another five fingers in Taylor's direction, and keyed in a phone number.
"Mrs. Morgan," he began when he got Brittany's mother on the line.
"It's Ciscoe, actually," she said. "I didn't change it. But never mind; do you have any news?"
"Not yet, I'm afraid. We're bringing in a special canine team from Spokane. We'll come to your house this afternoon."
"Canine? A dog? Like a search dog? Ivy disappeared from the car in the Food Mart parking lot, not from our house."
"We tried a dog in the parking lot. It couldn't find anything more than thirty feet from Brittany's car. But now we think it could possibly be useful to bring this other specially trained dog to your house, walk him around the neighborhood. He might pick up a trail we haven't thought of yet. In past cases, missing children have been found at a neighbor's house."
Susan Ciscoe seemed doubtful, but said okay. He didn't tell her that he didn't need her permission. He also didn't volunteer that the missing children he'd mentioned had been found dead, and that this dog from Spokane was trained to sniff out cadavers.
Chapter
7
Eighteen hours after Ivy disappears
On the video monitor, Grace McKenna studied the image of a white kitten scampering across the shaggy landscape of a gorilla belly. Neema, lying on her back, threw one huge arm over her head and chuckled in delight.
Snow tickle Neema
, she signed.
Grace moved away from the screen and sat down on the braided rug next to Neema, crossing her legs. She signed
Where snow?
The gorilla cupped a gentle hand around the kitten.
This snow
, she gestured with the other. Then,
soft baby
.
So Neema had decided to name this kitten Snow. Just to be sure, Grace signed,
Snow is dog?
Neema's gorilla eyes flashed a look that implied Grace's species was the one with limited intelligence. She signed
Snow dog here
.
Before she had worked with Neema, Grace would not have believed that an ape could be sarcastic. It was great to get this sort of 'talk' on tape to demonstrate that gorillas had rich imaginations and associations and memories, much like children.
"You don't like dogs," she said, simultaneously signing the words. "I'll take the dog away." She reached for the kitten.
Neema clasped the tiny furball to her chest as she abruptly sat up.
Neema's baby
. She hurriedly drew her fingers out from her mouth, mimicking whiskers, thumped her chest and then curled her hand across it, then pulled imaginary whiskers again.
Cat my baby cat
.
"Ah, now you know the difference."
Best cat? Neema keep Snow?
Neema drew the basket of kittens closer, gripping the wicker rim between her feet.
All cats play
.
"One." Grace held up a finger. "You can have
one
. Which one do you like the best?"
All stay Neema
.
"One."
The white kitten squirmed against Neema's chest and mewed softly. The gorilla bent and brushed it with her lips, and then set it carefully on the floor. Next, she gently plucked a calico kitten from the basket and lifted it for a kiss.
What color that cat?
Grace signed.
Nest
.
Grace frowned and spoke while signing simultaneously. "It's not time for your nest now. Not time for sleeping. It's morning," she said, gesturing a sunrise. "What color is that cat? Blue? Red?"
This nest
.
"You want to take the cat to your nest?" Grace asked. "You want to sleep with that cat?"
Play now
.
Grace sighed. "Talk now," she insisted. "You must answer when I ask you a question. What color is that cat?"
Nest
.
Grace gritted her teeth. Neema could be incredibly stubborn, especially when she was bored with answering routine questions.
"Yellow? Green? Brown?" Grace persisted, flashing signs one after another.
"Dr. McKenna," Josh interrupted from the doorway. "Take a look at Neema's nest."
Grace glanced at him over her shoulder, then turned and studied Neema's nap area in the corner. She'd created a gorilla sleeping nest, but instead of using leaves and grasses as she would in the wild, she'd used an old black rug, a white blanket, and a few orange and yellow towels.
Black. White. Orange. A calico nest. Turning back, Grace regarded the calico kitten in Neema's hands.
"And some people think apes are slow," Josh said dryly.
Neema echoed, signing
slow
.
Josh laughed. "Good thing she doesn't know the sign for clueless."
"She's repeating, not agreeing," Grace retorted. "And the tape is rolling."
He looked at the camera mounted near the ceiling. "Well, Dr. McKenna, you're the Ph.D.
You
would recognize the difference between repetition and agreement."
"Either get lost or come on in," Grace muttered. To Neema, Grace signed,
black white orange cat black white orange nest
.
Nest
, Neema agreed.
"So it's finally time for a new pet." Josh knelt on the floor beside Grace. Neema now had both the white and calico kittens in her lap and was laughing her soft huh-huh-huh at the feel of their tiny claws on her legs. A gray kitten from the basket leapt up to bat at the black gorilla toes wrapped around the rim. Neema hooted with delight.
Which cat for Neema?
Josh signed.
All cats stay
.
Play
. Neema plucked the gray from the basket and added it to her lap.
"One cat," Grace insisted. Should she make the decision for Neema and remove the rest of the kittens? Or would that touch off a temper tantrum?
Some days it was hard to remember that she had a Ph.D. in Psychology. She should be teaching at a university, be
Professor
McKenna, with a roomful of dewy-eyed students looking up to her. When she'd first taken on this sign language project, she imagined working with Neema for a few hours each day and then retreating to her office or the lecture hall. Teaching gorillas sign language was a fascinating project, but the day-to-day process was grueling. When had she become this drudge, this weird mix of academic, zookeeper, and mommy? She never dreamed she'd be raising two gorilla children for the indefinite future. It was a lonely business. If only there was another gorilla mom to compare notes with.
A soft 'hunh' from the barred area behind Neema drew their attention. Gumu, confined to the 'cage' area for now, stretched his long black arms through the bars toward them. Then he stepped back and slapped himself on the chest.
Neema regarded her gorilla companion for a moment, and then signed
cat Gumu
. Gumu thumped his right hand against his chest, and then thrust the hand through the bars toward her.
Grace turned to Josh. "Do you think Gumu can be trusted w—"
Before she could get out the rest of the sentence, Neema scooted across the floor with a gray tiger kitten in one hand and the calico in the other. She sat down just out of reach of Gumu and cradled the kittens between her legs.
"Uh-oh." Grace started across the floor. Neema had always been gentle with other animals. But Gumu was a huge male, younger, less 'humanized.' And male gorillas had been known to kill smaller animals in their territory.
Josh grabbed Grace's arm. "Wait."
Baby
, Neema signed.
Soft soft
.
Give Gumu
. The thump the gorilla gave his own chest was so loud that both the kittens and the humans in the room startled at the sound. He insistently held out his hand, the huge black fingers curled upward.
Soft
, Neema signed again.
Baby
. Then she held out the gray kitten and gently dropped it into Gumu's giant palm.
Grace groaned as Gumu pulled the kitten back into the cage. He held it up in front of his face. The kitten squeaked. Neema hooted softly, slashed an arm through the air, then held both arms briefly across her stomach.
No snake
.
Love baby
.
Gumu inspected the mewing kitten, gently holding the tiny animal to his nose and sniffing. He thrust his other hand through the bars toward the calico kitten Neema still held.
Nest soft baby
, Neema signed.
Give Gumu
.
Grace gasped as Neema handed him the calico kitten.
The male gorilla compared the kittens, one grasped in each giant black hand, blowing on their fur and running his lips gently over their tiny bodies.
Baby soft
. Neema hooted softly again as she signed.
"It's as if she's telling him to be careful," Josh murmured.
Gumu set the tiny gray kitten on the floor. It scampered between the bars and pounced on its white sibling next to Neema's leg. Grace could almost breathe again.
Gumu cradled the calico against his pot belly. Its purr was audible. He placed his arm horizontally against his chest, then tapped himself again.
Baby Gumu
.
"When did you teach him
baby
?" Grace asked.
"I didn't." Excitement raised Josh's voice half an octave. "Neema did."
Neema had taught Gumu a word! What other sign language conversations were they having when she wasn't watching? Clearly, she needed to film the gorillas in the barn and play enclosure as well as during their lessons. That meant more cameras and hours of videotape to review. As soon as her grant check arrived, she'd see about buying more equipment and recruiting more help.
Neema turned to Grace and Josh, signing
Nest Gumu
. She scooped up the white kitten and signed
Snow baby Neema
.