Wanda on the sofa.
Dana was clearly debating, but at last she sat gingerly on the edge.
“So what’s this about?” she asked.
Tracy expected Wanda to jump right in and explain, but when the other woman didn’t, she tried to figure out how to begin. At last she just plunged in.
“Everybody here likes you, and everybody was worried. It seemed to us that you were hiding something, that you were afraid. And we thought maybe, if we knew what you were afraid of, we could help.”
“Did it occur to you that you could make matters a lot worse?”
Tracy wondered. Hadn’t they all believed they could make things better if they just knew the truth? Or had this just been another detective game, something they’d gotten good at when they tried to find Herb Krause’s family?
There was no tiptoeing around it. She started with what they were sure of. “We know you’re not really Dana Turner, and that the real Elizabeth Ann Turner was a child who died of a heart defect when she was a year old.”
“Aren’t you the clever sleuths?”
“It was never like that,” Wanda said. “Not about us just being clever. You need to believe that. Olivia came to us. She was worried about Lizzie. And, Dana, you do act like a woman who’s running. We needed to know why.”
Dana didn’t answer.
“Can you talk to us?” Tracy asked. “Tell us what’s going on?
Because nobody here is going to turn you in. As far as we’re concerned, your name really is Dana Turner.”
Dana’s gaze fell to the papers on Wanda’s lap. “You seem to have a pretty thick dossier. Why don’t you tell me what you know?”
Tracy hesitated. This was not the best way to approach the situation. Dana should tell them, so they could check her facts. Yet here they all sat, the papers on their laps. They couldn’t pretend they didn’t know more than what she’d already said.
Tracy watched Dana’s face. “We think you might be a woman named Carol Kelly from Stockton, California, who disappeared with her baby daughter, Sarah, almost eleven years ago. The baby’s father was stalking you, and you vanished in the night. So did he. Either you left because you were afraid he would harm you and your daughter, or…”
Dana’s eyes didn’t flicker. Whoever she was, whatever she had done, along the way she had learned to protect her thoughts and feelings like a professional. “Or?”
Tracy shook her head.
“Because I killed him?” Dana suggested.
“A man threatening a child. A mother afraid for the child’s safety.” Wanda started to pat Dana’s knee, then seemed to think better of it. “Women have killed for a lot worse reasons.”
“We are talking about a life,” Dana said, anger flaring in her eyes. “I am not a murderer.”
Tracy wondered if she had also learned how to act. The anger seemed genuine, but anger always seemed genuine in movies, too, when the actor was talented enough.
“Who are you?” Tracy asked.
“My name is Dana Turner. My driver’s license says so. I have the birth certificate to prove it.”
“What are you afraid of?” Alice asked. Maybe if any of the rest of them had spoken, Dana would have stood and walked away, but Alice, who understood fear, had so much compassion in her voice, it seemed to melt Dana’s resistance. “We want to help. We are your friends,” Alice said gently.
Dana closed her eyes. A long moment passed. Then Dana spoke softly. “I am afraid…I could lose my daughter. I am afraid…I will not be given the years I need to raise her.”
Tracy felt the words tear through her. “Are you Carol Kelly?”
Dana didn’t move; she didn’t speak. Then she gave the slightest nod. “And now, will you report me? Because I fled with my daughter? It’s not a crime, is it? Taking my child to safety? Running from danger so I can raise her unharmed?” She opened her eyes. “Would you jeopardize Lizzie’s future now that you know?”
Wanda looked almost ill. “You’ve been running since she was a baby?”
“From state to state. From town to town. Trying to get an education so I can support her. Trying to earn a living. I had family and friends at home, but I can’t contact anybody. Surely you can understand that? I can’t tell anybody I’m safe or alive. The moment I do, he’ll come after me.”
“Ray Strickland?”
Dana hesitated; then, as if she was taking a chance, she nodded again.
“But he disappeared, too,” Wanda said. “If you didn’t kill him, where is he?”
“He’s the