“Nope. Still lives in the same house.”
“You think it makes any sense for us to pay her a visit?” Rena asked.
He raised one mangy eyebrow. “You got a missing kid. You got to do everything you can and then one more thing.”
Rena nodded. “Her name?”
“Rosemary Bracken. Second house from the end of the block.”
“The parents were never suspects?” A.L. asked.
“We looked at them, of course. But they were...well, I guess the best word would be wrecked. Just wrecked. They aged about ten years the first week. After a month, it hurt to look in their eyes. They’re better now, you know. Had to go on. They had a seven-and a ten-year-old at the time. The seven-year-old just graduated from high school last spring. They invited me to the house for the party. We got to know each other pretty well over the years.”
A.L. and Rena exchanged a glance. The idea of socializing with the Whitmans in ten years because they’d bonded over a missing child who was never found made him want to throw up. Rena appeared to concur. “Anything else that we should know?” he asked.
Doug shook his head. “Your case is remarkably similar,” he said thoughtfully. “Is it even possible that it could be the same person responsible for both crimes?”
A.L. thought he heard the faintest bit of hope in the older man’s voice. He understood. The case haunted Doug Franklin. If it was the same person and he and Rena managed to find the asshole, then there could be closure here in Dover. “I don’t know. We can’t ignore the possibility. We’ve got an eyewitness who places two strangers at a restaurant across the street from the day care the night before Emma disappeared. That sound remotely familiar? These guys were described at early to midthirties. Ten years ago they’d have been early to midtwenties. Both white. One is a redhead with a sleeve tattoo.”
Doug Franklin tapped his index finger on the table. “The janitor had a kid. He was maybe nineteen or twenty. Red hair. I don’t remember any tattoos.”
Those could have been acquired in the last ten years. “You know where the kid is?”
Doug Franklin shook his head. “The janitor’s name was Trapper Frogg. I don’t remember what his kid’s name was, which is weird because it was an odd one. Old age, I guess. It’ll be in the file somewhere. I remember talking to him.”
“Great,” A.L. said. “We also want to talk to Corrine Antler’s parents. Just to see if there is any possible connection between them and the Whitmans or anybody else intimately involved in this thing. Can you set that up for us?”
“Yeah, I think so. They’re both teachers so they get off work by 3:30. Can the two of you hang around until then?”
He and Rena nodded. “We’ll take a drive by Rosemary Bracken’s house. And then spend the time reviewing the case file,” A.L. said. “Brent Smoke already offered it to us.”
“The new guy,” Doug Franklin said, his tone not complimentary. “Always wanted to shake things up. Like what we’d been doing for the last thirty years was all wrong.”
Doug Franklin had twenty years on A.L. He’d earned his “Old Guy” stripes. But still, it made A.L. uneasy. Was he on his way to being him? Pissed off about the inevitable change that barreled toward them every day, like a goddamn speeding train.
A few months ago he’d have spent no time thinking about it. But that was before Tess. Who had triumphed over tragedy and likely wouldn’t bother wasting too much time with somebody who couldn’t realize that the good old days might have been great but they were fucking gone.
“Thank you for your time,” A.L. said.
“You’ll let me know, right?” Doug Franklin said, standing up. “If there’s anything in your case that might mean something to me.”
“Will do,” A.L. promised.
* * *
They found Rosemary Bracken’s house without any trouble. The yard was mostly dirt and the house was a square box, painted a dull gray, with one lone red petunia in a small pot next to the front door. “Nice landscaping,” Rena said, nodding at the flower. “Doesn’t make me hopeful.”
“My uncle Joe lives in a similar place. Some people are just low-maintenance.”
“Right. If a fifteen-year-old girl comes to the door who answers to Corrine, I’ll remind you that you think this falls within the normal range.” She turned her head to look at the day care across the street. It was a one-story brick-and-frame building. “This is so weird. I know the building doesn’t look like Lakeside Learning Center but the location is similar. On a corner. Open field behind it. Houses. A few small businesses.”
“No psychic,” A.L. said.
“We haven’t met Rosemary yet.”
They got out of the car. Rena knocked on the door. She was just about to knock a second time when it opened. It wasn’t a fifteen-year-old girl but rather a woman, maybe midfifties, wearing black-and-red pajama pants and a faded black T-shirt that appeared to have been washed about three hundred times. “Ms. Bracken?” Rena said.
“Yes.”
“I’m Detective Morgan. This is my partner, Detective McKittridge.” They both held their badges steady while the woman inspected them. “May we come in?”
“Why?” she asked, not moving.
“We’re from the Baywood Police Department, about a hundred miles south of here. We are investigating the disappearance of a five-year-old from her day care. We understand that a similar crime occurred here in Dover about ten years ago and that you lived here at the time.”
While she spoke, Rena closely watched the older woman’s face. But there was no response. Not a blink, a twitch, a gasp, or anything that resembled a normal reaction to hearing that a child was missing. When she was done talking, there was an uncomfortable silence. Then finally, the woman stepped back and motioned for them to have a seat in the living room. There was a couch and one chair. A.L. and Rena both sat on the couch.
“I’m not sure how I can help you.”
“Do you remember the missing child from the day care across the street?” A.L. asked.
“Of course. It was huge news in a town this size. Horrible news.”
She said the last sentence without emotion, as if she might be talking about the price of milk going up. “Did you talk to police at the time?” Rena asked.
“I did. I suspect many of the neighbors did. I believe I got some extra scrutiny because some idiot reported that they saw a child on my couch, watching television.”
“Did that make you angry?” A.L. asked.