* * * *
Sam dug out her ID and showed it to the nurse manning the reception desk. "I need to see Mary Elliott."The nurse frowned. "Mind if I ask why? Mary's not in the best condition, nowadays."
She put her ID away. "What's wrong with her?"
"Short term memory loss, stroke." The nurse hesitated. "She's still regaining speech and mobility."
Damn! Why was it that every lead they seemed to get was damaged in some way? "I need to see her, if it's possible, as we think she might be able to help us with a case. If she begins showing any signs of stress, I'll leave."
"Make sure you do. I don't want her upset." The nurse pressed a button on her desk. Seconds later, another nurse appeared. "Lisa, take Agent Ryan to see Mary, please."
Sam nodded her thanks to the receptionist and followed the second nurse down the corridor. The rooms were all locked. Apparently, they were taking no chances on an inmate walking free.
The second nurse stopped at a door about halfway down. "Mary, like most of the patients in this wing, tends to live in the past. They have no concept of current time or events — if we let them wander at will, they'd become dazed and confused."
And it was a hell of a lot easier on the staff if they weren't free to roam, Sam thought grimly. "Thanks," she said, as the nurse opened the door.
The woman nodded. "Just buzz when you want out."
"Will do."
The door closed behind her. The room wasn't the glorified prison cell she thought it would be. Huge windows lined one wall, overlooking a garden that was a mass of flowers and trees. The remaining walls were a buttercup yellow and lined with brightly colored prints. There wasn't much furniture, but what there was added to the cheerful feel of the room.
A thin, gray-haired woman sat statue still on the sofa, apparently mesmerized by the children's show on the television. Sam walked over and sat beside her. There was no reaction from the older woman.
"Mary?" she said softly.
The woman turned around. For one second, there was little life in her blue eyes, then she blinked, and the right side of her face lit up in a smile.
"Josephine!" Her words were slightly slurred, but not beyond understanding. "As I live and breathe, fancy seeing you after all these years."
What were the odds of getting mistaken for someone else twice in as many days? She dug out her ID and showed it to Mary.
Confusion ran across the old woman's face. "You're not Josephine?" Her gaze darted from the ID to Sam's face.
"No. My name is Samantha. I'm a police officer."
"You look like young Josephine did."
Maybe she did — and if she was a product of Hopeworth, then it was very likely that there were others out there who resembled her. Right now, it wasn't a point worth arguing. "Mary, do you remember working at the Silhouettes Adoption agency?"
A smile tugged the right corner of her mouth. "Yes. I worked there for many years. Lovely place. Lots of bonny babes to look after."
"Do you remember a child named Rose Pierce?"
"Rose Pierce," the old woman mumbled, face locked in a frown. "The name does seem familiar."
She dug the photo out of her handbag and handed it across.
The old woman studied it for a few minutes before a smile touched her lips. "Rosie Pierce," she murmured, gently touching the child's image with one gnarled finger. "Now, there was a strange one."
"Strange how?"
"We could never settle her as a babe. She kept screaming and reaching out for something — though we never did figure out what. Not until later, that is. And, of course, no one wants to adopt a child that forever cries."
"She was in the hospital for many months, wasn't she?"
"Yes. We got her from the hospital, once it had been confirmed her parents were dead and there was no living relative to look after her."