“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?”
“Yes.” Don nodded. “We need to check neighboring towns. She wouldn’t go far, not given how reclusive she is. But we have to act fast.”
“I’ll get more manpower up here.” Peg whipped out her phone. “We’ll expand the search area. Meanwhile, let’s keep exploring the house with a fine-tooth comb. There has to be something-a receipt, a paycheck stub, something-that she left behind that would give us a clue as to what she did, where she shopped, what places she frequented.”
Claire was standing at the top of the basement stairs. “I need to go down there,” she murmured. “I know you swept the place and found nothing. But I still need to go down there. I’m not sure why-not yet.”
With that, she descended the staircase.
“I’ll bet that’s where Linda kept Felicity,” Casey said. “People repeat patterns they’re comfortable with, and Claire keeps referring to a basement. If Linda’s holding Krissy in the basement of wherever she is, she must have done the same here with Felicity.” Turning and speaking to Peg and Sergeant Bennett simultaneously, she asked, “May I go down with Claire?”
Neither of them had a problem with that.
So Casey hurriedly descended the steps.
Claire was standing in the middle of the room, looking around as if she were seeing something more than an empty basement with a concrete floor and cinder-block walls. From the distant expression in her eyes, she wasn’t even aware of Casey’s presence.
Slowly, she crossed over to the far wall, pressing her palm against the surface, then sliding it up and down.
“A bed,” she said in a soft, faraway voice. “With a canopy. The bedspread has roses on it. Roses, for Briar Rose. Princess Aurora. The bed is for her. And the canopy is embroidered with pictures of Flora, Fauna and Merryweather.”
Sleeping Beauty, Casey thought. Claire was describing Sleeping Beauty.
“She doesn’t feel like a princess,” Claire continued in that same dreamlike tone. “She’s scared. She wants her mommy, her daddy and her sister. She doesn’t understand why she’s here. And she doesn’t understand her new name. It’s not hers. She’s not who she’s supposed to be. She just wants it to go away. She just wants to go home.”
Casey stayed frozen in place, determined not to interrupt Claire’s musings. Clearly, she was talking about Felicity. This was the room in which she’d been held captive.
Claire’s words were heartbreaking. There were tears on her cheeks. “She’s curled close to this wall. As far away as she can get. But she knows it’s not far enough. Her legs are tucked under her. She’s afraid of the dark. And it’s always dark down here. Except for the night-light and the little lamp on her nightstand.” Claire pressed her palm hard against the wall. “It’s not a fairy tale. It’s a nightmare. Why did this happen to her? She doesn’t understand. She doesn’t want to.”
An odd expression crossed Claire’s face. “Pain. Resignation. Acceptance.” Her eyes flickered open. “She’s gone,” she whispered. “Gone for good.” For a long moment, she stared at her hand. Then, she let it drop to her side. She looked exhausted and utterly defeated.
“Claire?” Casey said tentatively.
Claire glanced over at her. “Felicity was here.”
“I know. I could tell by what you were saying.”
“This wall,” Claire murmured. “She spent hours pressed against it, trying to emotionally escape. That’s how I could still pick up on her presence after all these years. A residue of her energy was left behind. It’s gone now.” A shaky sigh. “So we know Linda Turner was the kidnapper. Or at least one of them. She kept Felicity in this basement. That’s why she’s repeating herself with Krissy. Another basement, another princess room.”
“Do you feel Krissy’s energy here, as well?” Casey asked quickly.
“No.” Claire shook her head. “Krissy was never here. Either Linda moved beforehand, or she chose a different location to make sure she didn’t get caught. Either way, she never brought Krissy to this house.”
Casey walked over and looped an arm around Claire’s shoulders. The poor woman was shaking. This experience had taken a lot out of her.
“Let’s go upstairs.” Casey spoke in a gentle voice. “We’ll tell the task force what you felt and saw.”
“Assuming they believe me,” Claire replied with sad resignation.
Casey couldn’t argue that one. “We’ll just have to hope ERT turns up some evidence from this room.”
For the first time, Casey understood the crippling frustration Claire endured in situations like this. It was bad enough to see the dubious expressions on the faces of the task force. What was worse was the utter helplessness of knowing there wasn’t a damned thing they could do to utilize Claire’s information. Casey didn’t care about the inadmissibility of what Claire had seen and felt. She would have jumped on this anyway, unencumbered by the limitations of law enforcement. What she cared about was the fact that she had nothing concrete that could lead them to Linda Turner.
Only the confirmation that they were looking for the right person.
“Did you find anything in the house?” Casey asked Peg.
“Nothing of significance.” Peg looked as frustrated as Casey felt. “A couple of take-out menus. A broken plate in the garbage. And a roll of red string in a corner of the master bedroom. We don’t need any of it. ERT had more than enough to establish that Linda Turner lived here. And they dusted for prints everywhere-including the basement-for proof that Felicity Akerman had been here. But, when push comes to shove, even if all the fingerprints match up and everything Claire said was true, it means nothing. Not in the here and now. Felicity Akerman is gone. We need to find Krissy Willis.”
