Jenna turned to Kent, who stood frozen in the doorway, a look of horror on his face.“We need the make, model, and license plate number of her car.We need to put out an APB right away.”
“It's in her registration form.I'll get it for you right now.”Kent hurried back toward the office.
Jenna surveyed the room again, her trained eye cataloging details.A half-empty coffee cup.A grocery receipt from yesterday.A newspaper with obituaries circled.She was still here, still in the area, still hunting.
Her phone rang, startling her.Hugh Clancy's name flashed on the screen.She answered immediately.
“Hugh, what is it?”
“Sheriff, we just got a call from a Nancy Billings.Her grandmother, Ida, has gone missing.Nancy went to check on her after work, found the front door open, but no sign of her grandmother.”
The name Ida Billings was familiar, even if Jenna didn’t know the woman personally.
“What's the address?”
Hugh provided the information as Jenna jotted it down on the back of a motel notepad.
“We're on our way,” she said, ending the call.
She turned to Jake, who had heard enough of her side of the conversation to understand.His face had gone pale.
“A woman named Ida Billings is missing,” she confirmed.“Her granddaughter just reported it.”
The illustrations surrounding Jenna and Jake seemed to be watching them with malevolent interest.If Vivian Crane had already found her next victim, if she had already taken Ida Billings—they might already be too late.Right now, this killer could be bringing another terrible fairy tale to life.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
The patrol car already parked in front of Nancy Billings's small bungalow told Jenna that the call about Ida Billings's disappearance had been taken seriously.She pulled her cruiser to a stop at the curb and cut the engine.
“Looks like Miller and Chen beat us here,” Jake observed, unbuckling his seatbelt.
“Let's see what they've found,” she said, stepping out of the vehicle.
Nothing appeared amiss from the outside of the one-story home with its neatly trimmed hedges and mums blooming in ceramic pots on the front porch.Jenna saw no sign of struggle or forced entry.Just a normal house on a normal street, where an elderly woman had vanished without explanation.At eighty-five, Ida Billings was among Trentville's most vulnerable residents, and the clock was already ticking.
The front door opened before they reached it, revealing a female officer whose expression lightened at the sight of them.
“Sheriff,” she acknowledged.“Ms.Billings is inside.We've taken her initial statement, but there's not much to go on.”
“Thanks, Miller,” Jenna replied, stepping past her.Jake followed Jenna into the house.
The interior was warm and slightly stuffy.Family photos lined the walls of the entryway, tracking the progression of time through faded snapshots of picnics and holidays.Jenna's gaze lingered briefly on a black-and-white portrait of a young woman who bore a striking resemblance to the older Ida Billings she saw from time to time—same determined set of the features, same direct gaze.
In the living room, Nancy Billings sat stiffly on the edge of a floral sofa, her bank teller's uniform still crisp despite the obvious distress on her face.A male officer stood near the window, notepad in hand.
“Ms.Billings,” Jenna greeted the younger woman.“I'm Sheriff Graves, and this is Deputy Hawkins.I understand your grandmother is missing?”
Nancy’s hands were twisting a tissue into shreds.“Yes.I came home during my lunch break to check on her, like I always do.She wasn't here.That was almost three hours ago now.I can’t imagine … she never …”
Jenna glanced at the two officers, then back to Nancy.“Would you mind if my deputy and I spoke with you alone?”
Nancy shook her head.“No, that's fine.”
With a subtle nod from Jenna, the officers excused themselves, mentioning they would check the perimeter of the property again.As the front door closed behind them, Jenna took a seat in an armchair across from Nancy while Jake remained standing, his keen eyes already surveying the room.
“Tell me exactly what happened,” Jenna prompted gently.
Nancy drew a deep breath, visibly collecting herself.“I work at First Regional Bank downtown.Every day around 1:30, I take my break and come home to check on Grandma.She's generally fine on her own, but I like to make sure she's eaten lunch and taken her medication.”She gestured vaguely toward a small pill organizer on the side table.“When I got here today, she wasn't in the house.I called for her, checked the backyard, even looked in the basement, though she rarely goes down there anymore.”