Page 95 of Another Girl Lost

“I can’t give out the names of hospital personnel.”

“I know. I get that. But can you tell Lynn Yeats that I think a pipe burst in her place. I could hear water gushing. I don’t know how to reach her. We’ve chatted a few times and I know she works here. Maybe you can let her know.”

The older woman frowned. “Has anyone else tried to shut the water off? Most homes have a shutoff at the street.”

“A few guys were trying to figure that out. I think the meter at the street is fused or something. My job was to tell Lynn.”

“I’ll get word to her.”

“Thank you.”

I returned to my truck, turned on the engine, and sipped the cold dregs of my coffee. I figured I had a 25–40 percent chance Lynn would come running out of this door or one of the ones to the right or left. If this didn’t work, I’d find her some other way—I needed to discover what she knew. How could she not have known Della and I were in the basement?

Five minutes later a tall brunette wearing scrubs came running out the exit on the right. I watched as she hoisted her backpack on her shoulder under the parking lot’s rising lights and pressed a remote. The lights of a Jeep blinked.

The Jeep barreled out of the lot, pausing only briefly at a stop sign before heading east. I followed, keeping a reasonable distance. She didn’t appear to be worried about speed limits. No doubt the woman was imagining soggy rugs, ruined wallboard, and soaked wood floors. I shouldn’t have been enjoying her distress, but I was. A bit of payback for living her clueless life while metal rubbed my skin raw.

She took several rights and lefts, and we wound away from concrete toward tree-lined streets. Her brakes came to a screeching halt in front of a town house. The house wasn’t particularly interesting ormemorable. The brick was new, the shutters green, and the wrought-iron rails thin. The number6240was painted on the front door.

Scrambling with her keys, she shoved one in the lock, turned the handle, and vanished inside. The keys dangled in the lock.

I parked across the street, shut off the engine, and lowered in my seat. I pictured her running from room to room searching for water, wetness, or damage. She’d find none. And soon relief would give way to anger and frustration:It’s a hell of a joke to play on a person. How could someone be so cruel?

If she thought this was unkind or unfair, she didn’t understand the true meaning of either.

When Lynn came outside, she was scowling and muttering to herself. She went to her neighbor’s door, banged on it, and waited until a young man appeared. Her animated hands pointing to her place said more than her words could. The guy shook his head, looking confused.

When she finally got back in her Jeep and drove toward the hospital, I sat in the silence, staring at the house. I knew where Lynn Yeats worked. I knew where she lived.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

DAWSON

Tuesday, July 16, 2024

9:45 p.m.

As Dawson lay beside Margo, he savored the warmth of her body and smell of her perfume.

“Tell me what’s bothering you,” she said. “And don’t tell me you’re worried about HR. You couldn’t give a shit. What’s on your mind?” She held up her wrist ringed with the red marks of his cuffs. “I know when something is bothering a man.”

He traced the red circling her wrist. Instead of smoothing his fingers over it, his hold tightened around the bone. “How did your visit with Scarlett go?”

“She’s very closed. She doesn’t remember Sandra, and she helps Tiffany because she says she owes her. She’s had no contact with Lynn Yeats.”

He relaxed his hold. “Do you believe her?”

“I don’t know. Survivors of captivity are very good at hiding their true selves. I’ve seen it dozens of times before. It’s a survival mechanism.”

“She’s completely closed off to me, but I have that effect.”

“She stares at me as if she’s searching for something. The first time we met, she called meDella.”

“Della? Really?”

“I’ve read enough of the files to know Della isn’t real, but it’s odd she’d confuse her with me.”

“You’re not the first. She’s called in reports on three different women over the years.”

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