The wooden house looked like all the others in the area.
It was modest, with pale blue shutters and white clapboard walls. Set back from the road, the house was surrounded by several acres of woods. The grounds and gardens hadn’t been tended to, and there were weeds growing all around the lake out back.
Clearly, Linda had wanted to block out the memory of what had happened there.
The task force, along with the Evidence Response Team that Peg had summoned, went inside first, checking the place for clues as to Linda’s whereabouts. Casey and her team stayed outside, waiting to be allowed in. Ditto for Patrick, who stood as still as a statue, his gaze fixed on the house, his hands clasped tightly behind his back.
Claire was with them, walking the grounds, stopping occasionally to lean over and touch the dead flowers in the garden, and concentrating intently. Hero zigzagged across the lawn, sniffing, his leash clutched in Marc’s hand.
Casey paced around impatiently, frustrated at being kept out. But there was nothing else she could do until ERT had finished checking for physical evidence.
Nothing but think.
She’d told Hope and Vera the basics before taking off. Edward had been at the office. Hope had come alive at the prospect of a real lead. Vera, on the other hand, had refused to believe that Linda was involved. She was stunned to learn about Anna, since she hadn’t even known of her existence. But she insisted that Linda’s daughter’s death must have made her all the more compassionate about Felicity’s abduction. Nobody should have to bear the loss of a child, she’d told Vera repeatedly. And she’d attended every one of the prayer vigils after Felicity’s disappearance. How could she have faked that level of concern?
Casey viewed Linda’s actions and statements in a far different light. But she’d seen reactions like Vera’s before. She was in denial. Even so, Casey could see the flicker of doubt in her eyes. Somewhere inside her, Vera was afraid that what she was being told was true. And that would mean she’d befriended the very woman who’d stolen her daughter, destroyed her life and now kidnapped her granddaughter.
Having heard Casey’s request for a photograph, Vera had disappeared to her room, returning to present Casey with a photo from Felicity’s soccer camp. The staff was in the back row. Vera pointed at a slender, dark-haired woman with a gracious smile that didn’t quite match the sober look in her eyes and told Casey that that was Linda.
Casey couldn’t help but notice that Linda’s height and build could easily have passed for Hope’s. She didn’t say that aloud. She merely thanked Vera and gave the photo to Ryan.
Vera looked ill. This potential truth was almost unbearable.
But not nearly as unbearable as it would be to hear Casey’s theory about Felicity being replaced by a series of other children, all of whom would have been disposed of when they hit a certain age. A mad cycle that Krissy could very well be taking her place in.
The very thought made Casey’s stomach turn.
The ringing of her cell phone interrupted her thoughts.
She answered ASAP. “Yes, Ryan?”
“Obviously, no hospital’s computer records date back thirty years,” he began without preamble. “But the hospital Linda Turner worked at does have archived records in storage. So I drove there, made a few friends.”
“Female, no doubt,” Casey inserted drily.
“Yeah, well, they just finished digging around for me. It’s bizarre, Casey. There are no records of Felicity at all. Not of her E.R. visit, not of her follow-ups—nothing. There are, however, records of a girl matching Felicity’s description arriving in the E.R. that day with a broken arm. All the dates and procedures match the ones Vera Akerman gave us of Felicity.”
“So the hospital screwed up.”
“I’d say no to that one.” Ryan had that voice again, the one that said he was about to deliver a bombshell. “According to the file, the girl with the broken arm was Anna Turner.”
Casey started. “Oh my God.”
“It’s like Felicity’s existence there was wiped clean, and replaced by Linda’s daughter.”
Linda’s house was barren. Her clothing and toiletries were gone. Her fridge was cleaned out. The evidence suggested that she hadn’t been living here for some time now. Which meant she was probably living in the place she’d set up for Krissy.
They had to find her. She was the key to everything.
The key to finding Krissy.
The FBI task force canvassed the neighborhood. Using the photos Ryan had created, they showed Linda’s picture to neighbors, local business owners, anyone and everyone they could think of. Clearly the woman had been a total recluse. A few neighbors who were longtime residents of the area recognized her, but none of them had seen her in as long as they could recall. The local pharmacy had never done business with her. Nor had any of the local merchants. And if she had any doctors, they weren’t in this area.
A core team, including Peg and Don, continued combing the house. Casey and Marc stayed with them. So did Patrick and Claire. And, of course, Hero. Marc covered the entire house with him, letting him sniff every nook and cranny, along with the scent samples ERT had collected. Even with her personal items gone, Linda had lived here. Which meant her scent was the one thing she’d left behind.
“She didn’t want to be recognized.” Peg stated the obvious. “So whatever supermarkets, drugstores, or health care professionals she dealt with, they’re located elsewhere.”
“What about employment?” Casey asked. “She’d need a stream of income—assuming she wasn’t the one who got Hope to part with the ransom money. Do we widen the search?”