He nodded. Rubbed his forehead with his index finger and thumb. “Corrine Antler was dropped off by her father. He walked her into the building. She ran ahead. He was fifteen to twenty feet behind. Once he saw her enter her classroom, he left. This was the same routine that they’d followed for months. Her mother came to pick her up that afternoon. She wasn’t there and the teacher in her classroom said that she’d never seen the child.”

“You never made an arrest,” A.L. said.

Doug Franklin shook his head.

“Did you like anybody in particular?” A.L. asked.

“A few different people, at various times. There was a janitor who cleaned the building who had a short rap sheet and a belligerent attitude. But I turned over every stone in that man’s life. I found some shit but never any sign of Corrine.”

“You know where this guy is now?” A.L. asked.

“He’s dead. Three years now,” Doug Franklin said. “One of the last things I did before I retired was update the Antler file with his obituary.”

“Anybody else?” A.L. asked.

“There was a neighbor who lived across the street. Single lady. Never married, never had any children. I had a witness who claimed they thought they saw a child watching television in her living room. But we couldn’t find any physical evidence that tied Corrine to that house.”

“She dead, too?” A.L. asked.

“Nope. Still lives in the same house.”

“You think it makes any sense for us to pay her a visit?” Rena asked.

He raised one mangy eyebrow. “You got a missing kid. You got to do everything you can and then one more thing.”

Rena nodded. “Her name?”

“Rosemary Bracken. Second house from the end of the block.”

“The parents were never suspects?” A.L. asked.

“We looked at them, of course. But they were...well, I guess the best word would be wrecked. Just wrecked. They aged about ten years the first week. After a month, it hurt to look in their eyes. They’re better now, you know. Had to go on. They had a seven-and a ten-year-old at the time. The seven-year-old just graduated from high school last spring. They invited me to the house for the party. We got to know each other pretty well over the years.”

A.L. and Rena exchanged a glance. The idea of socializing with the Whitmans in ten years because they’d bonded over a missing child who was never found made him want to throw up. Rena appeared to concur. “Anything else that we should know?” he asked.

Doug shook his head. “Your case is remarkably similar,” he said thoughtfully. “Is it even possible that it could be the same person responsible for both crimes?”