Missing Daughter

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Missing Daughter Page 32

by Rick Mofina


  “That said, the offense of obstruction, as well as facilitating the impersonation, cannot be overlooked,” the judge said and sentenced Cole to ninety days in Albany County jail within a special jail block holding military veterans. Part of Cole’s sentence was to help counsel the other incarcerated veterans who were dealing with an array of offences and personal issues.

  Through their attorney, the Slade brothers also pleaded guilty to their offences. Again, the judge had to weigh their ages at the time as well as other factors. As a result, the brothers each received a three-month jail sentence in addition to one year of probation.

  Darrell Robert Nybee, the burglar, was sentenced to one year in prison.

  And as for the drowning of Karen’s ten-year-old sister, Cassie. After their review of the case, Zubik and Asher affirmed that Karen had no direct or criminal role, agreeing that Cassie’s death was a tragic accident.

  * * *

  Nearly two weeks after Maddie Lane’s rescue, Maya Starr Gagnon stepped from a Greyhound at the Syracuse bus station, took a cab to the home of Karen and Ryan Lane and rang the doorbell.

  “I have something to tell you,” Gagnon said.

  Astonished, Karen invited her inside, where she sat in the living room before the family, including Maddie. She was stunned to see the older girl who had impersonated her, adopted her life and lived in her room.

  “I’ve been watching the news reports, and I couldn’t go on living the way I was any longer,” Gagnon said. “I apologize to all of you for what I did. For a long time now, I’ve been lost in this world and Cole offered me a real family. He said I’d be helping you ease your pain over losing Maddie, that she was gone forever. I know now that I only deepened your suffering, and I’m so sorry.”

  The Lanes traded glances.

  Karen touched Gagnon’s hand. “When you came into our lives, our pain was unbearable,” she said. “For that brief time, you took it away. That you came back to acknowledge what you did and apologize means a lot to us.”

  Gagnon said she was going to surrender to police and face charges.

  Karen called Jill, who contacted Cole in jail and he agreed to provide Gagnon with a good attorney. She pleaded guilty. Her surrender was taken into account, and she was sentenced to sixty days for criminal impersonation and obstruction charges, and was given six months of probation.

  * * *

  A few days after Gagnon had returned, Asher advised Ryan and Karen that DNA testing confirmed Maddie was their daughter.

  “There is no doubt whatsoever,” Asher said. “We made further confirmation through her fingerprints.”

  For an hour after Asher’s call, Karen grew pensive.

  Ryan pressed her on the matter, and she took him alone into their bedroom where they could talk in private. Then after searching for the words, she pushed back on her emotions.

  “I can’t keep this inside any longer,” she said. “I have to tell you about me and Cole.”

  “That you slept with my brother?”

  Karen’s jaw dropped.

  “I always suspected it, Karen. But I never wanted to know. You two had a closeness you couldn’t hide. I wouldn’t be surprised if Jill suspected it, too.” He looked away and let a long moment pass. “I told Cole that I knew when I was beating him. Deep down my suspicion is likely the real reason I always resented him.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Karen sobbed. “It was one time. He was at his worst. He had just come home after losing his legs. Brittany had left him. He was suicidal, believing no one could love him, that he was no longer a man.”

  “Stop. I get it.” Ryan dragged his hands across his face. “I’m not okay with what you two did. Believe me. I’m not. Maybe we can get past it. It won’t be easy, but if everything else we’ve been through couldn’t break us, then this shouldn’t either. I never stopped loving you, Karen.”

  “I never stopped loving you.”

  Ryan stood, went to the window to look at the backyard and Lucifer’s Green beyond as if looking into a forest of regret and past mistakes.

  “We’ve all done things we’re not proud of,” he said. “I honestly don’t know if I will ever forgive Cole, or Dalton, for what they did. I don’t know. But now, now that we have Maddie back, it feels like a second chance to start over, to be better people.” He turned to her. “I think we should take it. One day at a time.”

  Karen flew to him, and they nearly crushed each other in their arms.

  Maddie’s case continued making headlines for weeks.

  In Florida, where she had been following the news and at times was interviewed for stories, Anna Croll called a meeting of her nonprofit organization, the South Florida chapter of Searching for Lost Angels.

  She arranged for the executive members from headquarters in Washington, DC, to be on the line, and after a short discussion, it was decided to give the reward money it had received in the Lane case to Lewis Perez, the veteran who found Maddison in Syracuse.

  The move drew more media attention when Mr. Perez told the Associated Press that since Buster his beagle was the real hero who’d found the girl, he would only accept the amount needed to buy Buster a new leash, collar and bag of dog treats.

  “I think the rest should stay with that Lost Angels group. They sound like a good bunch of folks,” Perez said.

  * * *

  Stan Zubik and Fran Asher stood at a small mound of earth alongside a grove near the Willowind subdivision.

  A few weeks had passed since they’d wrapped up the case, and Zubik, who’d cleared everything with the property owner, insisted they come here.

  They stared down at the small granite wedge and steel plaque that was only six-by-six inches. It read: In Memory of an Unknown Friend.

  Zubik had it made and wanted to be sure that the dog that was buried here had received the respect it deserved.

  “This is a good thing you did, Stan,” Asher said.

  “If I’ve learned one thing as a detective, Fran, it’s that every step is a step toward resolution. This animal played a role in the case, and I wanted him remembered for it.”

  They drove back to headquarters in silence before Asher suggested they stop at Big Ivan’s Diner.

  She smiled. “One last time.”

  They found their usual booth and made their usual order.

  “So.” Zubik let out a long breath. “All packed up, all ready to go?”

  “Leave this weekend.”

  “My loss is Homeland’s gain.”

  “Thank you, Stan.” Asher gazed into her coffee. “I want to ask you something.”

  “Shoot.”

  “Martha and I are getting married in DC in three months. Going to make it legal. It would mean a lot to me if you came. Would you consider coming?”

  Zubik looked at her. “Just try and keep me away, Fran.” He winked and patted her hand.

  She stood up, went around the table and gave him a hug.

  * * *

  When Jill picked up Dalton the day he was released from the youth home, he made one request.

  “Can you drive me straight to Maddie’s house?”

  “Do you think that’s a good idea? I mean, she’s been getting a lot of counseling. Isn’t it a condition of your sentence that you not see her?”

  “No, it’s not a condition, Mom. You can call the DA. It’s not.”

  Jill knew it wasn’t a condition. She also knew that the families needed space and distance to move forward. Between visiting Dalton and Cole during their incarcerations, she’d become emotionally drained. She could only imagine what Ryan’s family was enduring.

  “Please take me there, Mom. I need this.”

  They drove to the house and, at Dalton’s request, Jill went to the door and asked if Maddie would come to the driveway where Dalton was waiting, leaning against their car.

 
Ryan and Karen stared uneasily at Dalton for a long time. Their feeling of protectiveness for their daughter was as strong as ever. Ultimately, they’d said the decision was Maddie’s to make.

  About ten tense minutes passed before Maddie came to the door and, with her parents and aunt watching, walked slowly toward Dalton.

  But halfway there she stopped.

  She stood there looking at him, seeing him for the first time in four years since that night.

  He was a man now.

  “Hello,” he said.

  She could see he was struggling.

  “I’m so sorry,” he said at length. “I was so messed up back then. It was my fault. I didn’t know those guys were going to do what they did. But it doesn’t matter because I’m to blame. It was my fault. I tried to stop them, but it—I don’t deserve forgiveness, and I’m not asking for it. I just need you to know that no matter what happens I will always hate myself for what happened to you, Maddie.”

  She looked at him for the longest time while gently twisting her bracelet. She had no words for him. She looked down at her wrist and sniffed because she was crying, her tears splashing on the gold charm.

  Maddie turned to her family then back to Dalton.

  Since that night so much had happened and so much had changed. A lifetime had passed for all of them.

  The only thing they had left was hope.

  * * *

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS AND A PERSONAL NOTE

  As a former crime reporter I have a basic understanding of police investigations. But please know that with Missing Daughter, I took creative license with procedure, jurisdiction, technology and geography.

  I have visited Syracuse, New York, which is a great city especially if you’re a literary tourist. F. Scott Fitzgerald, Stephen Crane, Shirley Jackson and L. Frank Baum are among the few masters with ties to Syracuse. I make no claim to being an expert on the city and most of the places mentioned in Missing Daughter exist only in my imagination.

  In bringing the story to you I benefited from the hard work, generosity and support of a lot of people.

  As always, my thanks to my wife, Barbara, and to Wendy Dudley, for their invaluable help improving the tale.

  Very special thanks, Laura and Michael.

  My thanks to the ever-brilliant Amy Moore-Benson and Meridian Artists, the super-talented Emily Ohanjanians, and the incredible, wonderful editorial, marketing, sales and PR teams at Harlequin, MIRA Books and Harper Collins.

  I want to give particular thanks to Dr. Geoffrey Gay of Ottawa, Canada, for suffering my imposition with questions on dentistry. If the dental aspects of Missing Daughter ring true for readers who are expert in the profession, it’s because of his kind help. If they fell short for you then blame me—the mistakes are mine.

  Again, creative license.

  This brings me to what I hold to be the most critical part of the entire enterprise: you, the reader. This aspect has become something of a credo for me, one that bears repeating with each book.

  Thank you for your time, for without you, a book remains an untold tale. Thank you for setting your life on pause and taking the journey. I deeply appreciate my audience around the world and those who’ve been with me since the beginning who keep in touch. Thank you all for your kind words. I hope you enjoyed the ride and will check out my earlier books while watching for my next one.

  Feel free to send me a note. I enjoy hearing from you.

  Rick Mofina

  Facebook.com/RickMofina

  Twitter.com/RickMofina

  RickMofina.com

  ISBN-13: 9781488035036

  Missing Daughter

  Copyright © 2019 by Highway Nine, Inc.

  All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this ebook on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 22 Adelaide St. West, 40th Floor, Toronto, Ontario M5H 4E3, Canada.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

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