“Perhaps out here,” the woman said. She stepped onto the small porch. There was only one lawn chair. None of them sat.
“On Wednesday, in Baywood, Wisconsin, a five-year-old girl disappeared from her day care.”
“I know,” the woman said.
“And how did you know that, ma’am?” Rena asked, keeping her voice level.
“I saw it on the news. Then I looked online at the articles in the Baywood newspaper. Then I spoke to Alice Quest.”
“Do you know Alice Quest?”
The woman shook her head. “No. But what I would have given ten years ago if somebody had reached out to me and said that they understood the terror. It’s...hard for someone to understand, but part of what makes the situation so terrible is that you feel very alone. Even your friends, people you’ve known for years and imagined cared for you, turn against you. No one wants to support the person who let this happen.”
“You were the director of the day care when Corrine Antler went missing in what seems to be a similar situation,” Rena said.
“Yes. I’d been the director for over ten years. Nothing bad had ever happened. We’d never even had a broken arm on the playground. But everybody forgot that pretty quickly.”
“I’m sorry that happened to you,” Rena said.
The woman shrugged. “Of course, it’s not about me. It’s about Corrine Antler and her parents. Her siblings. But I called Alice because I’m probably the only one who understands what she’s going through.”
A.L. shifted, maybe to get the late afternoon sun out of his eyes. “I imagine you might have had your suspicions about what happened?”
“I was confident that Corrine had somehow gotten outside and wandered off. And at first, I guess I imagined that she’d be found pretty quickly. It wasn’t until we were about two days into it that I realized that it wasn’t going to turn out okay. That nothing would ever be right again.”
“Did you ever adjust your thinking about the cause of her disappearance?”
Brenda stared at them. “I never thought it was anybody from the day care. My staff. Other parents. I just couldn’t see that. But then again, I also couldn’t imagine that a stranger had gotten inside our day care and that nobody had seen him or her. So, no. I guess I didn’t. But now...now that it’s happened again, maybe I was wrong.”
Her words hung in the warm afternoon air. It was a beautiful fall day but Rena felt a chill cross her body. It had been ten years. Was it even possible that someone had taken both little girls?
“We’re on our way to talk to the Antlers,” A.L. said.
Something passed in Brenda’s eyes but she said nothing.
“Do you still see them?” Rena asked.
“No.”
Something wasn’t right. “Dover is pretty small. That probably has to happen.”
“The Antlers have never forgiven me. Once, when I was in the grocery store, I saw Mrs. Antler come in. Our eyes met. She...turned around and left the store. Left her cart right there in the aisle. Guess she couldn’t stand to be in the same place I was.”
“Did you continue to manage the day care?” A.L. asked.
“The day care only stayed open another six months. Then it closed. It was closed for more than six years before somebody else purchased the building and reopened it. I wasn’t interested in trying out for my old job.”
“Where did you work after the day care closed?” Rena asked.
“I didn’t. This is a small community. Everybody knew the story and quite frankly, nobody wanted to hire the woman who lost Corrine Antler.”
Not much to say to that. Rena looked at A.L.
“Have you ever been to Baywood?” A.L. asked.
“No.”
“Know anybody in Baywood?” A.L. came back.
“No. Although I told Alice Quest that I could drive down sometime next week if things weren’t better.”
Was it odd that she was so quick to bond with Alice? Maybe not. She and Alice were an unfortunate minority. “I imagine Alice appreciated that,” Rena said.
“I guess. She’s still in the hopeful stage that the nightmare is going to end. For her sake, I want her to be right.”
* * *
Patsy and Greg Antler lived in a two-story house at the edge of town. The paint was fresh, the leaves were raked, and while it was way too early, there were pumpkins flanking the front door. While they waited for their knock to be answered, A.L. thought about all the damn pumpkins he’d carved over the years with Traci. How excited she’d been when she’d finally been able to hold the knife and cut on her own.
Little steps toward independence.
Memories.
When the door swung open, he was surprised to see Doug Franklin. “Patsy and Greg asked me if I could stay,” the man said.
“No problem,” A.L. said.
Doug led them down the hall and into a family room filled with soft leather couches and matching recliners. Patsy and Greg sat on one couch. They were both midforties and maybe thirty pounds overweight. They stood as he and Rena entered. “Detectives McKittridge and Morgan,” he said as he and Rena both showed badges. “Thank you for seeing us.”
“Of course,” Patsy said. “Can I get you something to drink? I have coffee made.” Her tone was pleasant but he didn’t get the impression that she was relaxed. Her jaw was tight and her eyes were wary.
He and Rena both shook their heads. “Thanks but no. We don’t want to take up too much of your time,” Rena said.
Greg motioned for them to take a seat. “Another little girl,” he said. He obviously wanted to cut to the chase.
“Yes,” A.L. said. “She’s five and went missing from her day care. And while not exact, the circumstances are similar enough to yours that we wanted to have a conversation with the two of you.”
“Do you think it’s the same person?” Patsy asked. “Could it be?”
Again, there was the hope. That perhaps finally this would lead them back to Corrine.
“We don’t have any reason to think so,” Rena said, her voice gentle. “The parents are Leah and Troy Whitman. Do you know them?”
Both Patsy and Greg shook their heads.
“Troy owns his own automotive garage business and Leah is a paralegal at the Bailey Shepherd Law Firm,” Rena said.
“I’m sorry,” Greg said. “I don’t think either of us has even ever been to Baywood.”