She suspected Mrs. Cannon wasn’t able to reach the other areas as easily. She took care of what she could.

She knocked and a woman opened the door. Midseventies, wearing loose jeans and a flannel shirt with a pack of cigarettes in the pocket. She was holding a paintbrush in one hand. “Yes,” she said.

“I’m Detective Morgan. We spoke on the phone.” She held out her badge. “This is Detective McKittridge.” A.L. also had his badge out.

Mrs. Cannon didn’t look at either. “I recognize your voice,” the woman said. She had a smudge of dark green paint on one wrinkled cheek.

“I wanted to let you know that you shouldn’t have any more trouble with your vehicle. We arrested a group of boys who are responsible. They were caught in the act of moving another person’s car. They admitted doing the same with your vehicle.”

“I knew I hadn’t forgotten where I parked my car,” the woman said. “Figured it had to be something like this. I tried to catch them. Stayed up all night but nothing happened. You can’t do that every night,” she added. “Not at my age, anyway.”

“Of course not,” Rena said.

“I’m grateful to hear something. I didn’t figure my concerns might get much attention right now. With that little girl missing.”

Rena looked over Mrs. Cannon’s shoulder and saw a newspaper spread out on the kitchen table. Knew that below the fold was an article about Emma Whitman, with a picture of her at her recent birthday party. “We’re doing everything we can to find her.” Rena extended her hand. “I won’t take up any more of—”

“It’s just like what happened in Dover all those years ago,” Mrs. Cannon interrupted.

Rena lowered her hand. Felt the back of her neck get clammy. “Dover, Wisconsin?”

“Yes.”

She knew the town. Maybe twelve thousand people, roughly a quarter the size of Baywood. About a hundred miles north. She turned to look at A.L., who shook his head. She turned back to Mrs. Cannon. “I guess I’m not familiar with that case.”

“Well, I remember it. My granddaughter, who lives in Chicago, was five, the same age as the little girl who went missing. It made me sick to think that something like that might happen to her.”

“How long ago was this?” Rena asked.

“Well, my granddaughter is fifteen now, so I guess about ten years. I don’t think they ever found that child. I hope that’s not what we’re dealing with here. As a parent, I’d want to know. Even if it was bad news.”

A.L. stepped forward. “You don’t happen to remember the child’s name, do you?”

Mrs. Cannon shook her head. “I don’t.”