Page 20 of Last Girls Alive
“No, I’m afraid I don’t. She came in on a Thursday and that’s my day off.”
“What’s her address? We need to double check that we have the right one,” he said and smiled.
“Oh, uh, it looks like 1457 Green Street.”
“Darn. That’s the address we have. Did she happen to leave an emergency contact?”
Cara scanned the paperwork and said, “Yes, she listed Amy Striker. The phone number is 555-2711 and the address is the same.”
“Thank you, Cara. You’ve been very helpful.”
“Thank you, Deputy,” she said, eyeing him. “I hope you solve your case.”
Katie and McGaven turned to leave and that’s when she saw the two little girls sitting side by side, each with a book. They had slightly different hair styles, but they were twins. It suddenly hit her. Katie touched McGaven’s arm before they exited the dental office. “Twins,” she said. “What if Candace Harlan has a twin?”
He shrugged. “I guess it’s possible. But how?”
“Don’t you see? That’s why the victim looks so much like Candace. Ask the receptionist if there is another patient, a family member by the name of Harlan. I know it’s a long shot, but it’s the only thing that makes sense. A doppelganger, a twin, maybe a cousin, but I think the victim might be related to her.”
Katie went outside and waited for McGaven. She paced the pavement, running everything through her mind. It was a long shot, but a sister, or a twin, was a possibility, even if there was no mention at Elm Hill Mansion about a sibling.
McGaven exited and said, “You’re right, Katie. I’ll give you kudos for this. Cara said that Candace’s sister, Carol Harlan, was also a patient, and they usually had appointments on the same day. There was an outdated contact number as well. Probably a fake one to begin with.”
“There was no indication from her file that she had a sister.”
“Maybe she didn’t know she had a sister until after she left Elm Hill?”
“Maybe they were separated when they were babies? And reunited?” she said, thinking about all the possible reasons. “Okay, let Dr. Dean at the examiner’s office know that he needs to compare the dental records of Carol Harlan.”
“On it,” he said, retrieving his cell phone. “I’ll run the system for everything on Carol Harlan as well.”
Walking up to the car, she said, “We also have an address now, 1457 Green Street.”
“That’s in the Parker Division,” he said, looking at his phone. “Looks like the Edison something company is the one doing the construction project. I’ll know when I get in front of my computer.”
“Maybe we’ll find Candace Harlan now,” she said.
Ten
The beginning of third grade was an exciting time for me—being eight years old was a new adventure. I would soon be beginning more academically challenging work—feeling like a real student instead of a child idly entertained by a teacher among a classroom of idiot children. My days were filled with the wonder of learning.
English.
Math.
And learning history made me the most content.
I was the happiest when I was away from home. It was the opposite for most kids, but not me. Not in the least. I imagined flying away to a better place—a magical place.
My home was a nightmare that had transcended into my waking life—every single day I stepped into the lion’s den praying that I would be okay—and not eaten alive. It didn’t matter what had happened that day—how fun it was, how good it was, how happy I was—as soon as I walked through the front door of my house, everything changed in an instant.
As I jogged up to the front porch with a heavy backpack slung over my right shoulder, dread always filled me. I glanced up at the outside light where the light bulb had been smashed and not replaced. Tiny remnants of the bulb still evident around the step corners were a constant reminder. The filthy step and worn-out doormat were the only things that greeted me.
The joy of school and all the new things I had learned faded away, replaced suddenly by deep despair and unwavering darkness.
My small hand gripped the front doorknob hoping it would open this time. I slowly turned it, and to my surprise it was unlocked. It was never unlocked. Ever. Gulping for air, I slowly pushed the door inward, but it jammed, only opening two inches. Something wouldn’t allow for it to open any farther. I could barely breathe. I pushed harder with all my strength, but it still wouldn’t budge.
I knew why.
