Page 19 of Once Hidden
“We’ll head over there now,” Riley said.“You two lead the way.”
As Rawley and Hodge walked away toward their SUV, Ann Marie turned to Riley.“Do you think that car means anything?”
“Maybe, maybe not.But it’s not going to be easy, talking with Amanda’s mother.She sounds like the kind of person you communicate with better than I do.I think you should take the lead with that.”
“I’m ready,” Ann Marie said.
Riley was glad to hear it. She hoped that Ida Lindeen held keys to this case that she herself didn’t even recognize.Ann Marie’s upbringing in a funeral home gave her exceptional skills for this kind of situation.
At this moment, Riley had nothing else that she thought might break this case open.Her gut instinct—that unnamed alarm bell that had saved lives before—told her somewhere out there another potential victim could be moving unwittingly through their final hours.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Ann Marie stared out the passenger window as Riley drove them toward Talomaska Crossing, mentally rehearsing her approach for the upcoming interview.She knew that talking with the mother of a missing woman required a delicate touch.Even more so if the woman suffered from dementia, as Chief Rawley had indicated.
Soon the town of Talomaska Crossing unfolded before them again—a main street with faded brick buildings housing a hardware store, diner, and post office.American flags hung limp in the humid afternoon air.A handful of locals paused on the sidewalk to watch the law enforcement procession, curiosity and concern on their faces.
“I take it you’ve dealt with dementia patients before,” Riley said.
“Oh, at the funeral home, we dealt with all kinds,” Ann Marie said.“Dementia adds a whole different dimension to grief.But even with dementia patients, emotional memory often stays intact.She might not recall what happened yesterday, but she’ll remember how her daughter made her feel.”
Riley followed the police SUV onto a street named Oakwood Lane.The houses here were modest single-stories, most dating from the 1960s or 70s, with carports instead of garages.Toys scattered across some yards hinted at grandchildren or great-grandchildren.The Lindeen home was halfway down the block—pale yellow aluminum siding, concrete steps leading to a small covered porch, and a concrete birdbath that had long ago lost its battle with the elements.
Chief Rawley parked at the curb, and Riley pulled in behind.Ann Marie took one last deep breath before stepping out into the heavy afternoon heat.
“Ida hasn’t been the same since Curt died,” Rawley warned as they gathered on the sidewalk.“Memory issues started getting bad about a year ago.”
Captain Hodge asked solemnly, “Does she understand that her daughter is missing?”
“I explained it this morning, but...”Chief Rawley left the sentence unfinished as she led them up the cracked walkway to the front door.
Ann Marie hung back, letting Riley walk ahead with Hodge.She studied the property—the garden hose coiled neatly by a spigot, the faded welcome mat, the small American flag stuck in a plastic planter of withering petunias.Signs of someone’s careful attention now beginning to slip—small details that would help her guide the interview with Ida Lindeen.
Chief Rawley knocked.“Ida?It’s Linda Rawley.I’ve brought some people who’d like to talk to you about Amanda.”
Shuffling sounds came from inside before the door opened.Ida Lindeen stood before them in a faded floral bathrobe belted loosely at her waist.Her thin gray hair was uncombed, standing up slightly on one side as if she’d been napping.Her slippered feet scuffed against the threshold as she peered at them with watery blue eyes.
“Linda?”Ida’s voice cracked slightly.Her gaze drifted from face to face, confusion settling across her features.“What’s happening?Is something wrong?”
Chief Rawley stepped forward.“Nothing new, Ida.I just brought some colleagues who want to help find Amanda.This is Captain Hodge from the State Police, and these are Agents Paige and Esmer from the FBI.”
Ida’s eyes widened.Her hands, spotted with age, clutched her bathrobe tighter.“FBI?Why would the FBI be looking for my Amanda?”
Seeing the woman’s rising anxiety, Ann Marie stepped forward with a gentle smile.“We’re just here to help the local authorities, Mrs.Lindeen.May we come in for a few minutes?”
Ida stared at them.“Weren’t you here earlier today, Linda?I thought you already came by.”
“Yes, I did,” Chief Rawley confirmed patiently.“But my colleagues wanted to ask you a few more questions, if that’s alright.”
Ida’s gaze drifted past them toward the street.“Well, if you want to talk to Amanda, she’s out right now.Probably doing her job.I don’t know when she’ll be back.Maybe later this evening.”She waved her hand vaguely.
Ann Marie moved a half-step closer.“Actually, Mrs.Lindeen, we’d really like to talk with you, if that’s okay.”
Something in Ann Marie’s tone—the practiced, soothing cadence—seemed to settle Ida.The older woman relaxed slightly.
“Well, I suppose you can come in.I was just watching my show.”She stepped back, opening the door wider.
The group filed into a living room that held the faint mustiness of a home where cleaning had become irregular.The television blared from a corner entertainment center, an afternoon game show with an over-enthusiastic host congratulating a contestant.A recliner faced the screen, the cushion indented with the shape of regular use.Magazines and mail were stacked on an end table, alongside a mug with a dried ring of coffee inside.
