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.
Ida shuffled back to her recliner and sat down, her eyes immediately drawn to the television screen.
The four law enforcement officials stood awkwardly in the small space.
Ann Marie noticed a collection of framed photographs on the wall—a younger Ida with a stern-looking man who must have been Curt, holiday portraits over the years, and several showing a woman with long brown hair that had to be Amanda.
“That man shouldn’t be on television,” Ida muttered, gesturing at the game show host. “He’s too stupid to live. Look at him, carrying on like that.”
Ann Marie moved carefully into Ida’s line of sight, positioning herself between the woman and the television. “Mrs. Lindeen, would it be alright if we turned this down for just a few minutes while we talk?”
Ida squinted up at her. “I suppose.”
Ann Marie located the remote on the arm of the recliner and gently reduced the volume to a background murmur. She knelt beside Ida’s chair, bringing herself to eye level with the older woman.
“Mrs. Lindeen, I know Chief Rawley explained this earlier, but we’re concerned because Amanda hasn’t been seen for a while. Not since yesterday evening. Her delivery truck was found abandoned on her route. We’re trying to find her.”
Ida’s face clouded with momentary comprehension before it slipped away again. “Well, she’s definitely not here, so you should go look elsewhere.”
“When was the last time you saw Amanda?” Ann Marie asked.
Ida’s eyes drifted to the muted television before she answered. “She wasn’t here to fix my breakfast today. Or lunch. It isn’t like her to leave me alone like this.” A flicker of genuine worry crossed her face. “She knows I need help with my pills.”
“Do you know of anyone who might want to harm Amanda?” Riley asked from where she stood by the doorway.
Ida looked startled by the question. “Harm her? Why would anyone harm Amanda?”
Ann Marie shot Riley a warning glance before turning back to Ida with a softer approach. “Has Amanda seemed worried about anything lately? Anyone giving her trouble?”
“No, no. Amanda’s fine. She just went away for a while.” Ida’s fingers plucked at a loose thread on her bathrobe. “She probably told me where, but I can’t remember just now.”
Ida frowned. “It’s strange that Curt isn’t around either,” she added. “Have you seen him?”
Chief Rawley stepped forward. “Ida, remember? Curt passed away two years ago.”
Ida’s eyes filled with tears that didn’t fall. “Oh. Yes. The stroke.” She stared down at her hands. “Sometimes I forget. Now I depend on Amanda more than ever. She takes such good care of me.”
Ann Marie noticed Riley and Captain Hodge exchange a glance.
“Mrs. Lindeen,” she said in a softer tone, “has Amanda mentioned having problems with anyone lately? Maybe someone who made her uncomfortable?”
“No, she’s a good girl. Keeps to herself mostly.”
Ann Marie tried a different angle. “Was there anyone she didn’t get along with? Maybe someone from work, or an old friend?”
Ida seemed to consider this, her gaze wandering to a photo of her daughter on the wall. “Well, she did mention that Marcus has been getting kind of pushy lately.”
Ann Marie watched Chief Rawley’s face transform, a flash of recognition that clearly meant something significant. “Marcus Alstead?”
“Yes, that boy never forgave Amanda for breaking up with him in high school, even after all these years.” She shook her head disapprovingly. “You’d think he’d have moved on by now.”
“And you say he’s been bothering her lately?” Rawley said.
“Yes, she complained about it just yesterday. Said he keeps following her around.”
“Thank you, Ida. You’ve been very helpful.” Rawley’s tone had shifted, a new urgency underlying her words. “We’re going to keep looking for Amanda, and we’ll let you know as soon as we find out anything.”
Ann Marie felt caught off-guard by the sudden conclusion to the interview. She’d had more questions prepared, more gentle ways to probe for information, but Chief Rawley was already moving toward the door.
“Is there someone who can stay with you, Mrs. Lindeen?” Ann Marie asked, reluctant to leave the confused woman alone.
“My sister comes by sometimes,” Ida said vaguely, as she reached for the remote control.
“I’ll call Maureen to come sit with her,” Chief Rawley assured them. “She only lives a few blocks away.”
Ann Marie gave Ida’s hand a slight squeeze before standing. “Thank you for talking with us. We’re going to do everything we can to find Amanda.”
Ida looked up at her with momentary clarity. “You find my girl. Please.”
Then Ida turned up the sound, and seemed to lose herself in whatever was on the television now.
Ann Marie turned away and followed the others outside. Once they were back on the sidewalk, Chief Rawley pulled out her phone and moved a few steps away to make a call. Ann Marie looked questioningly at Riley.
“Why did we end so abruptly?” she asked in a low voice.
Riley tilted her head toward the chief, indicating they should wait.
After a brief conversation, Chief Rawley rejoined them. “Maureen will be here in ten minutes. Now, about Marcus Alstead—he’s been a local troublemaker since he was a teenager. Multiple drunk and disorderly charges, couple of domestic disturbances with girlfriends, though nothing that ever stuck.”
“And he dated Amanda Lindeen?” Captain Hodge asked.
“Back in high school. She was one of the few girls smart enough to break it off.” Rawley shook her head. “He hasn’t been able to hold down a job lately. The interesting part is that he got fired from FleetRush Logistics about three weeks ago.”
Ann Marie caught the significance immediately. “The same company Cable Morris worked for.”
“Exactly,” Rawley confirmed. “And he happens to have a car exactly like the one Myrtle Sprouse said she saw slowing down when Amanda was there—a beat-up, dark blue Ford.”
Riley’s face remained impassive, but Ann Marie could see the slight tension around her eyes—the look she got when pieces were starting to fit together.
“We need to talk to him,” Riley said.
“He’ll probably be at home,” Chief Rawley replied. “Hasn’t been evicted yet because his aunt owns the place and feels sorry for him.”
They moved back to their vehicles, the afternoon heat making the air shimmer above the pavement. Ann Marie slid into the passenger seat beside Riley, her mind already organizing the new information.
As they pulled away from the curb to follow Rawley and Hodge, Riley glanced at her.
“Nice work in there with Ida. You handled her perfectly—the way you positioned yourself, the gentle tone, knowing when to redirect.” Riley turned her attention back to the road.
“You picked up on her confusion without making her feel uncomfortable or defensive. That’s not something they can teach at Quantico. ”
“I’ve dealt with a lot of people in shock, grief, or denial. You learn to read what they need in the moment.”
“Well, whatever that taught you, it works. Ida gave us our first solid lead. Now let’s see if Marcus Alstead can tell us anything useful about Amanda Lindeen—or Cable Morris.”
The houses grew sparser as they followed the SUV through the residential streets, soon reaching what appeared to be the outskirts of town.
Ann Marie watched the scenery pass, mentally preparing for their next interview.
If Marcus Alstead was connected to both missing persons, this could be the breakthrough they needed.
But Chief Rawley’s description of the man suggested this might not be a straightforward conversation.
Unlike the gentle approach she’d used with Ida Lindeen, Marcus Alstead might require a very different strategy.
She checked her holster out of habit, making sure her weapon was secure but accessible, still hoping she wouldn’t have to use it.